There is always (should always be) a story behind a great vintage piece.
A blank canvas kind-of-day was ahead of us and we decided to stroll the streets. The day lead us to a smokey junk store and naturally we strolled right in. I laid eyes on this and knew it was mine.
Ben hopped across the street to the atm to get cashout for what was my rightful find.
I believe the weather was at least 92 degrees. The cape got flung over my shoulders and worn to lunch that day. The same day I found my wedding ring diamond.
It was never worn again [on my part].
Ah, they joys of selling vintage. Sometimes the things from your own closet have to go.
No comments:
Post a Comment