Confessions
Serialized fiction and essays on femininity, desire, and the art of dressing for oneself.
The Silk Season
She hadn't planned to stay. The robe was still on the floor when morning came, and she decided then that it would stay.
Undisclosed Arrangements
There is a particular kind of freedom in being perfectly dressed for nothing at all — in treating the private hours with the same care as public ones.
La Femme Fatale, Reconsidered
She was not trying to be dangerous. She simply stopped trying not to be. The result was the same, but the feeling was entirely different.
The Archive
Every woman has a drawer she doesn't show anyone. Mine started with one piece. Then two. Then an entire language I hadn't known I was learning.
Night Inventory
What she kept: three silk slips, one garter belt she had never worn, letters she had never sent, and the memory of who she had been before she learned to apologize for it.
Boudoir Notes
The French understood something the English refused to: that a woman's private hours are not dead time. They are the point.