I’ve always thought that you’re either a robe person or you’re not, and I think it largely runs in families. I’ve never been someone who bothers with robes–or at least I wasn’t, until I became a pinup. Suddenly the concept of a robe had so many more possibilities than just those bulky, drab toweling robes that…I don’t know, people presumably put on after showering if they can’t be bothered to dry off immediately?
Now robes could be slinky little numbers thrown over silk slips in the morning while brushing out my pincurls and applying my vintage makeup. They could have billowing bishop sleeves, indescribably soft marabou trim, yards and yards of fabric that swish as you walk, recline, answer the phone to the latest in the long line of suitors desperate for your company. They could be decadent. Since I met with this robe revelation I’ve picked up several of those short slinky numbers perfect for getting ready in, but I’d yet to get my eager hands on any of those truly luxurious options. That is, until now. And my word, once you go Glamour Robe, there’s no going back.
Miss Amy May 