Maribou Slippers
Tabitha Blankenbiller
Near the end of my acting gig, my Frederick’s of Hollywood maribou slippers faltered. They could practically touch the finish line, one mere show’s worth of clomping away.
When I picked up the
Near the end of my acting gig, my Frederick’s of Hollywood maribou slippers faltered. They could practically touch the finish line, one mere show’s worth of clomping away.
When I picked up the
The dress was in my periphery for a lifetime before I searched for it, before I found and bought and wore it like an explanation.
I wanted to tell her to fuck off, but I didn’t know the term yet. “Okay,” I said. It was the blandest, safest response to something I knew in my marrow there was no escaping.
We were halfway through our second-date dinner when I realized that my shirt was on backwards.
“Oh,” said Tom, a flat thud to my confession. “I didn’t notice.”
I watched him chew, staring
"If Elizabeth Ellen exists, I would tell her it was like she channeled the anthemic scorn of Alanis Morrisette’s “You Outta Know” through Anais Nin, in her own inimitable way. And if Elizabeth Ellen doesn’t exist, at least she can invent herself.
currently ON SALE for $11!
“Legs Get Led Astray is a scorching hot glitter box full of youthful despair and dark delight.”
—Cheryl Strayed, author of WILD
currently ON SALE for $9!