Meditation with a Mint Julp.

She had gotten carried away. Her body felt like is was lulling along on top of dewy mist, akin to walking while in a drunken haze. She was always a sucker for a man who could really work a suit. Not just wear a suit but really owned the suit he shrouded himself in. She had almost an eccentric obsession with men's fashion, the clean lines and loose fit. Nothing was ever too tight or too over powering. A man could just put on a suit and suddenly he would instantly gain more glances from women. She longed to find a man who wanted to wear nothing but suits even though she knew this was an utterly ridiculous fixation. But, she couldn't help herself. Business men and business attire were her fetish.
Most would find all of this in one word pathetic, a sort of prehistoric preservation of the early tertiary 1950's period. Which during barbaric cave men ruled the land laden in Brioni or Brooks Brothers. All the while wielding giant gold gilded pocket watches and stainless steel monogrammed money clips. Clips that would unfold only at the mention of their spouses allowance. Her personality wasn't dwarfed by the 1950's female persona. On the other hand she was quite out spoken and kept to herself just fine. She didn't need a man nor really desired one. She just enjoyed men. Thoroughly. Utterly. And completely enjoyed everything about them. There was something she couldn't quite explain about the appeal of the delicateness of cuff links , a tie clip, or a nicely detailed handkerchief.
Perhaps she should have been born a man. But, then she wouldn't be able to worship the world of fashion without be called a fop she mused. No, she knew she was indeed supposed to have been born a woman.
A woman who longed for a man who could wear a suit. One who got as captivated by The Great Gatsby as she did, a man she was pretty sure she'd never find. Then again we never wholly ever get what we ask for...
Then again if she ever did find this man he'd be more then deadly to her health.