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It is Friday! Pardon my weeklong absence, dear readers. I’ve missed you!

We are upon a three-day holiday weekend, which is wonderful because I’ve scarcely had time enough to recover from the last.

Last night M & I celebrated five years, to the day, of the exact night that we met, with French 75s and premature Valentine’s Day candies.

Yesterday morning I woke up (late, of course, bangs sticking straight up, shuffling sleepily from the bedroom to the french press and my – well, M’s – laptop) to a world without Lee Alexander McQueen, a true genius, a would-be visionary, a brilliant legend. Ever the late bloomer, I explained to a dear friend that it wasn’t until it dawned on me that I was a lesbian, at long last in my very early twenties, when I truly became interested in fashion. Not in any deliberate, studied way, at least not that I can remember. So it’s really just the last decade or so that I have lived with this heightened sense of it all, the awe and skepticism and obscurity and blatantness.

It is more than enough time to recognize that the man was really and truly something else. It’s not fair to lose that mind and all the incredible, staggering, in-your-face beauty it produced. Loving what he made often required you to bend and twist your mind in ways other designers haven’t and won’t, and I’ll miss it all dearly.

You were beautiful and terrible, McQueen.

Y’all love hard on Sunday, you hear?!?!

Because I said so.

PS. Silly me. The ring is also Laundry by Shelli Segal and the gloves are vintage.