I am one of the women in this painting by Gustav Klimt. The other figures are of the readers who leave comments on my posts. They are also their lovers, children, friends, spouses, all the people that they tell us about.
I am entangled in the web of words that they leave. They are my joy each time I dip into The Diary of the Vixen.
I’ve done this before, and I’m going to do it again – suggest that
Coco Chanel said, “A woman who doesn’t wear perfume has no future.”
As of this Valentine’s Day, at least one American woman can be guaranteed a future, because she’ll celebrate Valentine’s Day wearing Ubar, the perfume from Oman.
I know this because I started my Friday off early by knocking on the door of my friend Peter’s home. Remember Peter from Ah Have Always Depended Upon…..? He’s the man who carried my 9-foot-tall Norfolk Island Pine up three flights of stairs as if he were carrying a tea cup.
This morning he turned all that strength to the delicate task of tenderly picking one heart out of a bowl filled to the brim with pink and red hearts. Each heart represented one new subscriber to The Diary of the Vixen Divorcee, or one previous subscriber who had recruited a new subscriber.
I wish I had the resources to give a bottle of perfume to everyone who qualified for the
Between my last Valentine’s Day as a married woman and my first as a divorced woman, (see Valentine’s Day), I spent my one Valentine’s Day as neither one nor the other holding hands with a handsome, dissolute, notorious lady’s man named Marius.
The setting for our tryst was La Perla, a restaurant on Playa la Ropa in Zihautanejo, Mexico. Our table sat alone, the furthest from the restaurant, the closest to the shoreline. Moonlight, starlight, gentle waves, warm breezes, the sweet sound of soft voices and laughter drifting to us from the few boats in the bay; this should have been the setting for The Vixen Divorcee’s First Kiss, right?