That’s all there is.

That’s all there is.


Mes fleurs, I realize I haven’t yet showed you around le Château. It’s high time that I remedy that, because someday you’ll end up spending the night after a fabulous fête and you’re going to need to know where the bathroom is. I have eleven, and we’ll get to them eventually.

For now, here is a peak into my hall d’entrée. I love how spare and serene it is. Glitz and glam and all of the naughtiness that comes with it are great, but I live in a château. I treat her like my great-great grandmother and this thing just isn’t going to cut it. Respect.

All I’ve placed here are two chaises covered in delicious green velvet. Pepito installed those nail heads himself and we were almost divorced by the end of it, but aren’t they fabulous?  And that giant sea shell above the door leading to the salon? I want to curl up in that shell.

That’s all there is. There isn’t any more.


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