spotted, at the steps of the met

Or in the ladies’ room, rather. No, not S., or B., or A. or C.

Moi!

A quick snap of my museum-going-outfit from Saturday, shot ever-so-professionally in the mirror of the ladies’ room while every stall was occupied (I’m shy about this picture-taking business!). I promise you those are not harem, drop-crotch pants – just a high-waisted, loose-fitting linen trouser:

I’m currently attempting to organize my notes and thoughts about the Alexander McQueen exhibit into a comprehendible review. It’s long, to say the least – I’ve had to extend my self-imposed deadline to a later time this evening.

In the interim is a preview of what’s to come (if you’re interested in my opinion, that is). Since no photographs were allowed, all I have to offer, unfortunately, are my horrid sketches and hastily written notes; my notebooks are always a pretty accurate reflection of how my mind words…

.   .   .

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