Wednesday, February 1, 2012


They were all there for one reason. If you were attentive enough, you could capture momentary glimpses of them posing, smudging, adjusting themselves. They did so in the vast hall of gilded mirrors that were somehow reminiscent of the opulent halls of Versailles. They did look beautiful, with their tightly fitted tails, bespoke top hats and brass-topped wooden canes. The men opened their snuff boxes and secretly admired the women, dancing feverishly in their silk night dresses, the cream-coloured folds undulating in the dim candle-light. I could only look at their reflection in the mirror, for I was too embarrassed to partake in such decadent revelry.

Madam suddenly piped up, "I want to go home."

Flashes at the Café Royal, London

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