BEAUTE//The Fughter

If I could give this photo audio, I think I would make it one of those upper-crust mid-Atlantic accents from, like, the 1930s.



And Amy would be all, “Daaaahling, so good of you to come to my soiree, do come inside for a tipple,”

and then she’d stagger back into the drawing room and grab her cocktail and ogle the neighbor’s son with eye-shagging zeal as she sucks  the olive off the toothpick, before telling him the coat closet is just terribly full and would he want her to show him where to put it in the boudoir?