Spellbound

Often I stand dumbfounded, looking at a black overcoat with a scrunched collar extending over the shoulders or or a red silk tube dress with perfect grecian drapes, wondering if these had been divinely blessed.

... it may best be described as a state of trance where a piece of clothing captivates you.- What helps is, perfectly lighted sparkling mirrors, floaty..dreamy music, dilated pupils which make you look cuter and see better, the sheer necessity for a funky teal muffler because you don't have that colour even though it does'nt go with most of the stuff you own and what elevates you and makes you hit the climax is the scramble for the last piece in a particular size- here you reach the 'what the heck state'... 2 pairs of socks to fill up shoes which are a size bigger, a white satin belt with a bow to hold up that dress closer to your waist, breathing in spurts to fit into that stunning purple chiffon skirt...

My visits to the mall (I say mall because large retail spaces with variants in different colours, fits and textures is the epitome of confusion ) almost always leave me enamoured; my impulse then leaves no room for brain. My sense of sight completely takes over and plastic reigns supreme again.

Then on one such day in quest of a smart pair of socks in black, I chanced upon a red coat dress. In my dictionary this would be classified under a 'must-have'. After the first trial I realized how irresistibly hot it looked. I played it up till the seventh trial when my adjectives stopped working, La Vie En Rose  was now devoid of any tints, I could see clearly why the last piece in size S was still there- it looked shabby with jeans and was too long to look chic with tights.  I broke the spell that held me long. Enough to prevent me from spelling broke.