Sat
Feb
7
st. barts
once in a long while, i have a longing to be wealthy. it crept up on me in st. barts, the island of the most, of the oh so high style, of the french. the expression of quality is written here. somehow luxury is almost made clean. and everything on this island— everything— is chosen. because there is not enough rain to support agriculture, 100% of everything is imported. italian linens. limes from mexico. cuban coffee. red tile roofs. gazebos. the sleek rockefeller house gracing the cliff above, with the mark of frank lloyd wright. and the shoes… ahhh, it must have been those shoes in the window… that got me.
