The very best dinner dates are not ones with cute boys, but with your very best of friends. Pass the entrées, dear sir, and let’s have the dessert menu straight away please. A decadent New York cheesecake with fig, drizzled with the finest lavender honey? Or a classic chocolate cake, three layers high? Both please, we’d eagerly ask, served with a piping hot cup of coffee; it wouldn’t be long before two forks would be digging into both cakes. Let’s be adventurous, gluttonous, risk-taking, cake-eating pioneers in the honeymoon phase of world-wide weight-loss resolutions!
I wore something simple (and forgiving on the tummy to follow) for the occasion:
Wearing an old favorite by Canadian designer Anastasia Lomonova. It’s a go-to for a number of reasons; by now it’s no secret that I have a penchant for all things black and off-the-shoulder (read: Flashdance-y), and this gold-threaded number adds just the right amount of luxe into a simple basic. Even so, it’s the memories that make it special.
I had just begun my first internship (!) creating and writing fashion content for the now folded Dujour magazine, and Anastasia Lomonova was one of the first designers I did a profile piece of after prowling the Internet until the wee hours of the morning. I was floored when the designer herself thanked me for the piece and as a token of thanks, gifted me something from her current collection. I remember thinking that this couldn’t be, that this wasn’t happening, that this sort of thing only happened to big-time writers and famous bloggers. What? (Evidence that clothing is not as superficial as they make it out to be!)
That was at least three years ago. I’d say it counts as a defining moment, no?
Speaking of all that glitters and is gold, an insta-snap of more indulgences. I don’t believe things get more hedonistic than a spritz of the ever sensual Tom Ford Black Orchid and a baggie of Godiva truffles. The night’s taste test: a champagne truffle (mm) and my personal favorite, the “Open Oyster,” a creamy hazelnut praliné nestled between two chocolate shells.
. . .