My husband and I walked into the elevator of the hotel, holding hands, and pressed the button for the lobby. Every so often, we like to have a special date night, a sort of vacation without traveling. So we get tickets to see a show, we book a nice hotel room, and we have a fancy dinner out, all without leaving the city. It feels really nice to get all swankified every now and then. This particular evening, we were heading to an upscale French restaurant, and then to the local opera to catch a performance of something famous and Italian.
I had taken the opportunity to get entirely dolled up; I was wearing a dark green cocktail dress with a halter top, the kind that hugs a lady’s curves in *just the right way* while also necessitating a braless night. Over that was a silk shawl in a variety of jewel tones, draped over my shoulders as protection against the evening’s mild chill. My husband was looking incredibly dapper in a well-fitted black suit, with a black shirt underneath, and a forest green tie that matched my dress. His long, dark hair was pulled back neatly, while mine tumbled down over my shoulders in a very carefully arranged but careless-*looking* way.