"Now Marie pushed the door all the way open, but instead of ushering him inside, she leaned up against the doorjamb and crossed her legs and folded her arms underneath her breasts and kept staring at him and chuckling. She was wearing high-heeled pumps with a black-and-white checkerboard pattern worked into the leather. Sherman knew little about shoe designs, but it registered on him that this one was of the moment. She wore a tailored white gabardine skirt, very short, a good four inches above the knees, revealing her legs, which to Sherman's eyes were like a dancer's, and emphasizing her tiny waist. She wore a white silk blouse, open down to the top of her breasts. The light in the tiny entryway was such that it threw her entire ensemble into high relief: her dark hair, those cheekbones, the fine features of her face, the swollen curve of her lips, her creamy blouse, those creamy flan breasts, her shimmering shanks, so insouciantly crossed." (19)
Wolfe, Tom. Bonfire of the Vanities. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1987.
Without being up on fashion, how do you know when something is "of the moment?"
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| Donald J. Pliner pumps, c. 1980s. From GoodGaudy on Etsy. |
Wolfe, Tom. Bonfire of the Vanities. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1987.
Without being up on fashion, how do you know when something is "of the moment?"