Afterward we went wandering through the shops (which howdy-do are open LATE) and bien sur I wanted to stop at the Chanel boutique. I was idly perusing the shoes, when le monsieur pointed to one pair I'd been eyeing and said, "those are nice." (He'd had a Manhattan too, and has even less alcohol tolerance than I do.) I tried them on, and was surprised and delighted to find them quite comfortable.
Without further ado...
And at least I walked out without the jacket. Yes, jacket. It was blue and white classic tweed, cut like a blazer (narrow lapels, nipped in at the waist) and the sales associate insisted I try one on. It fit like it was Made. For. Me. Not boxy in the least. I almost swooned, it was that gorgeous and looked that good on. I still had enough brain cells functioning to remind myself that it was completely out of the question.