1.0Soft Sensibilitieshttps://kimberlypearl.co/blogKimberlyhttps://kimberlypearl.co/blog/author/kimberlypearl-92gmail-com/rich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="APELYhpMRZ"><a href="https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/bag-whore-lady-dior-2/">Bag Whore: Lady Dior</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/bag-whore-lady-dior-2/embed/#?secret=APELYhpMRZ" width="600" height="338" title="“Bag Whore: Lady Dior” — Soft Sensibilities" data-secret="APELYhpMRZ" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /* <![CDATA[ */ /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); //# sourceURL=https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/wp-includes/js/wp-embed.min.js /* ]]> */ </script> It’s ironic, isn’t it, that the words “whore” and “lady” should appear in the same line. I suppose it’s not entirely paradoxical if you so happened to be mid-sentence summarizing Julia Robert’s transformation from a common whore to a high-society lady upon meeting Richard Gere in the ever classic film, Pretty Woman. (Actually, there’d be issues if someone never saw Pretty Woman…) But, as always, life surprises you, and there are firsts for everything. I have had my fair share of little features for my blog that, somewhere along the way, fallen to the wayside: petite novellas, Why Don’t You, Things I Love Thursday, What’s In/What’s Out, etc. Few have survived the ordeal: Maintenant (updates on my oh-so-fabulous life in the New Jersey suburbs) and The Stylist’s Notebook, to be exact, are the survivors. A third is to be introduced, glamorously named Bag Whore. It’s simple. It’s straightforward. Not prettified nor Frenchified (which I’m quite guilty to doing much too often for my own good). Bag Whore. It is what it is, glorified in all its cheekiness. There’s a ring to it, non? Why Bag Whore, though? Pourquoi, you ask? Ah, because I am one. Admittedly, I may love clothes, I may have an addiction to nail varnishes, but my one true vice lies in my…http://lacouturiernyc.files.wordpress.com/2010/06/ladydior1-01.jpg