I'm either very stylish or a French whore.

First, Ebay is bad. Very bad. I'm convinced they have somehow hypnotized me, are sending me subliminal messages though their website or at least have cast a strange spell on me luring me back to their site. Evil bastards.

I started the evening just looking for a poster of New Oreans. A nice print
either something large for my not-so-decorated bedroom or something smaller for my even-less-so-decorated master bath. I found these two great New Orleans Cabaret prints. Very vintage looking. See? Darling isn't it? They're very small. 8 x 10. My husband will shit. Simply shit. But it mentions chocolate and he has come up with NO suitable suggestions for blank wall space. And she looks very happy. Doesn't it make you want to stay out all night and then eat beignets with a huge cup of coffee from Cafe Du Monde?

Then, I just thought maybe I'll peek around at what vintage clothing they have. I now have a new obession. This is not good. Tonight, I won these little babies:

They're vintage Dior and fabulous. This is EXACTLY what I need, to start collecting vintage french lingerie. Good idea. My first thought was how great one of these would look hanging outside the door to my closet. My husband and I have separate closets so this could fly.

Then I started the inner struggle. Does this scream, "Wow, what stylish and unique taste!" or "Hi! Just call me Lady Marmalade!" I've decided against the latter and I could give rat's ass if anyone agrees with me. I reserve that right. Besides, you cannot deny they are absolutely gorgeous.