I STILL NEED SHOES

 

I've got a lover. His name is Vasquez. I've got a house...or three. I've got custom made parfum by nuns in Padua in the shade of an olive tree. I bathe with a splash of JOY and then towel down with hand made turkish linens. I travel first class to absolutely everywhere. I subscribe to the opera. I drink coffee from a tiny little pale blue cup owned by Marie Antoinette. I am aware of Hip Hop. I collect young art and old books. I eat Ragu and quails eggs when the mood strikes. Sam Shepard drew my portrait on a napkin one night in Paris.  Who cares when that was? I sleep on Frette sheets by a window planted with wheatgrass overlooking the best street in New York. I drink tequila in Marfa, Texas. My silver angel earrings are made in Oaxaca, Mexico. I was doing yoga when Sting was a toddler for God's sake. My armoire is stuffed with so much Valentino the Pope would weep. And yet....

I still need new shoes.