Love The Drake

Okay, remember this painting from my post on Monday?



Well, I have decided that it is high time I see the real thing.

And it is here:



In Chicago. Too close to not go see.

So the plot begins for a road trip. Girls?

If you're game, I'll get a room here:



At The Drake.

Yep. I will.

And I will bring identical outfits for all of us, composed of these:



The J. Peterman dress, ironically called The Portrait Dress. Though he intended it for portrait sitting, I think he will not mind if we use it, collectively, for portrait viewing. Can't you just see all of us standing, arms crossed, clad in black, nodding in appreciation at the painting? I love it. A portrait of its own.

And, sorry to steal your copy for my own site, Mr. Peterman, but I JUST HAVE to post what you wrote about this dress. . .

"Indian summer in Newport, the two of them alone in the artist’s studio filled with north light.

There’s a somewhat solemn stillness about her as she sits in the wing-backed tapestry chair.

He touches her cheek to turn her head slightly, peers intently at her. He presses her shoulders back, his eyes just inches from hers.

Good, she’s smiling now, and ah, look at that.

He returns to the easel and reaches for a tube of alizaran crimson to capture the faint blush that is emerging."

Seriously, who could resist buying this dress now? I need a fan. And a cold glass of water.

Okay, back to the plan.

And we'll need these:


And, of course, these:


And a few of these—for a punch of color. After all, we must represent.


And like a very well dressed version of Madeline and her classmates, we will traipse our way through the art institute in zig-zag fashion, until we find Breton's painting, and my scythe-wielding counterpart.

And there will most likely, considering my luck lately, be a sign that announces it is on loan in Dayton, Ohio or some other depressing town. But we'll still have fun.

So who's coming with me?