Celena | Butterfly Colorblock Dress
Natasha Couture 'Barriewood' Bangles
Round Beaded Earrings
Audrey Brooke Beverly Suede Sandal
Tortoise Cockail Ring
Franchi Edith Handbag
Have you ever experienced a moment in life that was so… fireworks blasting in the sky wonderful… you wish you could repeat it? But along with wishing you could relive a specific moment, do you ever wish you could also redo the outfit you wore? (As in, what was I thinking wearing those comfy, but ugly red shoes! Those wedges I found the other day would have been perfect with that dress! Or why didn't anyone tell me my boobs were hanging out of that blouse?)
I think about this type of do-over quite a bit, especially when the glorious moment is caught on video or scattered through photos. As seasons change, trends come and go, and my sense of style changes, I look back to how a number of beautiful memories could have been that much more perfect if I were only wearing a different ensemble.
Case in point, my best kiss moment.
There I was, sipping away cocktails at a downtown restaurant with friends. I had carelessly tossed on a gray wrap dress with a wide black belt and casual black work pumps. My hair was thrown into a high ponytail, and the only spot of color I had on me was my blush and cherry red lipstick. In a nutshell, I looked a little boring. Nine to five chic, perhaps. But it was a Saturday night! I should have been balls to the walls prepped and dazzling. But no, I had been running around all day planning an event and when my second energy drink failed to kick in, I had thought to myself… I'm not going to make an effort tonight.
Of course, halfway through the evening is when I saw him (or rather he saw me)… and you know who I'm talking about… it wasn't just any guy… it was THAT guy!
It's the guy that knows how to make you crack a smile, the one that sets you straight after a bad day, the one that challenges you to be a better person, the one that is George Clooney handsome with both the wit and charm that floors you.
He's also the guy that's just your friend. You may flirt, but you will yourself not to fall for him because you both don't want to ruin your friendship. Plus, he's damaged from the she demon he used to date, as are you from the he demon you used to date, and the only thing either of you want to do is enjoy life, void of romance and all those conflicting little buggers known as emotions. To top it off, he's honest and upfront with you about all of his issues, which makes him even more endearing and that much harder to resist.
So, there he was in fitted trousers and a vest layered over a crisp dress shirt walking with a group of friends. (Did I mention that he also dressed exceptionally well?) He spotted me through the open doors of the restaurant, and after grinning at me with a look of surprise, he mouthed the words that he would be right back. I remember being excited, but at the same time, refusing to believe he would return.
I erased him from my mind by mingling with my friends and taking silly photos to celebrate my best friend's recent accomplishments. It was during one of those peaceful interludes where you are listening and enjoying your present company, that I felt a pair of hands on my waist. I knew those hands. They spun me around, then gently guided me by the wrist through the bustling crowd to a free space by the bar. He proceeded to place his right hand at the small of my back, followed by his left hand on my cheek, and then he kissed me, slowly at first, gradually increasing to a rhythm that suggested we wouldn't live to see tomorrow. Was it the intensity of the moment or the two drinks I had prior that made me feel as if the earth were spinning on its axis exclusively for us? I steadied myself by reaching up to grab the nape of his neck, which eventually led to twisting my fingers through his hair and caressing the silk fabric on the back of his vest.
And then... it was suddenly over. There was a nip on the lips and a gasp for air, the two of us staring at each other, his hand still on my cheek and a boyish expression of wow. We finally let go of one another, ordered a drink, exchanged bits of news, and then he left to meet his friends and I went back to mine. That was it… my best to kiss to date.
Which (after a long pause where I relived that moment for the hundredth time) brings me back to my horribly boring outfit, because how could gray be the anchor for such an incandescent, physical experience! A little black dress would not have sufficed, bedecked in colorful gems or not. Nor would a smoking red hot number do. (Too obvious.) No, if I could relive that moment I would wear the outfit above. Shades of blue and yellow to provide the silhouette of an ardent flame, lightweight fabric to reflect my euphoric mood, and accessories with a retro twist because I imagine the fleeting scene could have played out in a number of silent films - an age old story of girl likes boy, boy likes girl, but the timing was never right.
Cheers to fashion,