I’m going to try this.
Kinda crude, kinda stupid, I know.
But, still, kinda lovely, too.
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Exquisite textures. I can see how that story about the champagne glass having been inspired by the shape of Marie Antoinette’s breasts could be entirely plausible.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?” she asked.
“Please,” he replied. She smiled and disappeared into the crowd. She seemed to be gone longer than necessary but finally she returned carrying two champagne flutes. He thought it odd that she held them up to the light as if comparing them. Smiling, she handed him the one in her right hand and, standing on her tiptoes, whispered something to him over the noise in the room.
“Really?” he said, as if in disbelief. He then held the flute up to the light and then, slowly, began to smile. No one noticed his knowing glance.
Nor did they notice that he held the flute carefully near the rim or that he periodically held it up to the light or that he politely insisted on keeping the same one the entire evening.
Or, after the party was over, that they held hands and giggled like kids on the way to their car.
Just a thought in keeping with the occasion…
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The little black dress? You bet. But I suppose that not all women could pull off a little red dress (if
you’ll pardon the expression). Martina Hingis is one of them, though.
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Christ, this is hot. She would be the perfect complement to my nude sushi table flanked by the two contortionists with flowers in their cunts.
This disarming painting plays on the apocryphal story about the origin of the saucer-shaped champagne glasses known as coupes. The legend is that they were designed 1.) by Louis XVI in the shape of the breasts of his wife, Marie Antoinette or 2.) that Empress Josephine designed them as a gift for her husband, Napoleon Bonaparte. An examination of the dates will tell any investigator that neither version can be true but I don’t care; Napoleon was shocked at his wife’s champagne extraordinary bills and it is well known that they enjoyed an intense sexual relationship (he once sent word that he would return home from battle in two weeks and ordered her to stop bathing). So it seems the least I can do is evoke her memory with every glass of champagne that I raise. (The wonderful painting is by Lisa Falzon, by the way.)