GLITCH

My cousin came over to my place for the weekend so I took her for dinner at the little dusky Villa Danieli that was cozily rustic and pastoral. We had lots of warm Italian loaves, milky raviolis, apple pastries with gelato and shredded duck salad that tasted of sweet bitterhood. We went through the dinner discussing the science of our own boyfriends (our lovely men originated from the same place) and the politics of our family, particularly our ever-so-kooky grandma and her cats. We met up with my sister later for a photograph or two in front of the the charming eating place and the product was a living testament to my wardrobe malfunction:

Jacket, Wet Seal; Dress, Miss K Boutique (the ruined one!); Shoes, Montego Bay at Payless Shoes.


If you inspect carefully, the delicate string of my halter dress that I was wearing broke and left my chest exposed (without me noticing for god knows how long). For every step that I took, the dress slowly lowered, almost revealing to the world my embarrassment. The evening wasn’t over yet because my sister was resolute about going for a three-hour karaoke session (a family ritual, believe it or not, next to the movies) so I had to resort to tying the body of my jacket with the broken string before we left. Problem fixed but I don’t think I’d dare buy any halter dresses with frail strings ever!