I spent a day in Aspen napping, reading, listening to books, and soaking in the hotel's rooftop hottub watching storms pass down the valley. I'd call it a waste of a day in Aspen except for the scenery and the sleep, neither of which I could get enough of.
In the late afternoon I achieved enough verticality to windowshop a little more. By the time RDC found me in a boutique, I was modeling a fabulous jacket. It might not have looked as good if I hadn't been wearing a brown linen skirt, but look good it did: luxurious soft fawn suede (fawn-colored, not made of--I think), lovely embroidery, foolish clasps closing the asymmetrical front, completely impractical and over the top. And beautiful.
The shameful thing is that its price, while ridiculous, was not out of range. It was out of sense and reason, but not range. For the price I'd rather fly somewhere--somewhere more exotic than Connecticut. But it reminds me of RDC's and my first Yule together, when I had fallen in love months before with a violet glass and worked "silver" perfume spritzer-flask thingie in a William Morris style, and I thought it was enchanting. We did not spend money on completely impractical and solely decorative things, except he did on this occasion. The difference in their prices and our reactions to them illustrates the change over the past 14 years. To be clear, no, I didn't get the jacket.
I had wanted to get s'mores from the St. Regis to bookend breakfast from the Main Street Bakery and Café but after dinner at whatever the restaurant now in the Howling Wolf's space, my energy was spent. More sleep.