“Clothes mean nothing until someone lives in them.” – Marc Jacobs
Lace and silk snuggled in close Each quietly tipping out beyond the rest Awaiting claim by the girl Who floats among their creamy white nest. She touches gently the fabrics They crinkle and swoosh as few are plucked Having caught her eye for trial and critique For one with perfect color, cut, embelishments, and fit. We who watch the girl watch herself Recognize quite well the dizzying emotions Reflecting back from the magic mirror While tears escape her signaling this is the one. In this moment the girl transforms She envisions her love, their day, their future And brightly smiles about this little white secret That is hers until she greets him on the aisle.