She found the dress in a vintage shop. The color, still so rich after all these years drew her eye like a moth to a flame. The woman behind the counter, with secrets in her eyes, mentions that this dress has been returned six times. It’s haunted, the woman claims. She rolls her eyes, and buys the dress anyway, too entranced by the softness of the silk to care for the warning. But she should have paid heed. The second she slips it on, it’s like slipping into a fever dream of the past… and the soundtrack is flapper’s champagne soaked ode to freedom.
XOXO,
Casey