it’s wedding season. love is in the air.
even though i did have the wedding of my dreams: an enchanted evening in my parent’s backyard, under sparkling stars and branches decked in flowers white and billowy. i still find myself getting whisked away in the fantasy of bridal bliss.
especially when i run across images of girls in satin skirts, peonies in full, fat bloom, and oodles and oodles of tulle.
the oh! why didn’t i think of that?!?! angst trembles.
just. for. a. bit.
i quickly remember my heavenly, floral, twinkle-light fantasy i experienced almost two years ago, and i wouldn’t want to do a single thing different.
at least that was until yesterday, whence i stumbled across this subtle, chic bauble of nuptial goodness.
where was fucking martha stewart’s guide to getting me a goddamn cheetah?
if anyone can get me this guy’s number i’ll owe you for evah.
i might not be planning another wedding, but i’m sure there’s an upcoming fundraiser for cystic fibrosis or something equally appropriate i can render his services for.
many thanks to tiger butter for sharing the awesomeness.