the mule in ivory satin

your something nou

Late one afternoon at the Beverly Hills courthouse,

the nou girl said "I do".

For the occasion, she air-dried her hair, chose her shoes before anything else, and picked a Tuesday because it was her second favorite day of the week.

No orchestra, no aisle, no procession of chiffon. Just the afternoon light slipping between the city hall buildings and the hum of the world bustling around her.

She walks into the courthouse unannounced, as if she is stepping into her favorite bar. Certain of what she wants. A leopard pillbox hat stands in for a veil, because it would not be her day without a trace of print. Her father’s watch circles her wrist. Antique stones lie cool against her skin.

A silk set skims her frame as though it has known her for years. An oversized opera coat effortlessly hangs from her shoulders. Her father’s watch circles her wrist.

She collects what has been loved before.

And then there are the shoes. Her something nou. Unforgettable, yet never pleading for attention.

Luminous ivory satin mules, cut with a peep-toe that reveals a subtle pop of red.

At her ankle, a stone glints larger than the one on her ring finger. She prefers the imbalance. It makes people look twice. Tradition has never impressed her. She keeps what feels true and leaves the rest behind.

There is a supermarket bouquet, a vintage purse holding nothing but a lucky penny from the year she was born and a lipstick. For her, marriage is not a spectacle. It is an exercise in self-love. If she can live with herself, she figures, she can live with someone else...The rest is just logistics.

She does not live to do things the way they are expected to be done.

Never confusing volume with meaning, the nou girl understands that elegance is an art in restraint, in resisting what the world tells her she should do or be. She moves through life with the certainty of a woman who knows forever is built on choices, not grand gestures.

& she lived
happily ever
after