Link freely on the World Wide Web. That bustier I stashed on the top shelf a few years back was always a bit of a struggle to keep up. And those fitted power suits have such limited appeal in my present job with its bending and stooping. There's always jeans or trousers, so much more practical in the modern world, but they definitely lack the romantic appeal of the gauzy, fluid impractical wardrobe of my dreams. These additions to my wardrobe would, of course, be much admired by my hero in a statelier age.
Modern men seem to have no appreciation for the beautifully dressed female form.
To give them the benefit of the doubt, it is possible that they are too caught up in doing their fair share of the household duties after a nasty day at the office, to have time left over to gaze with rapture on my fancifully outfitted feminine silhouette. Still, I am left with the woeful thought that as a modern woman I dress merely to keep myself warm and comfortable and that any small hint of romanticism in my ensemble is there merely for my own pleasure. A world where heroines and heroes float about in hazy, dreamy, beautiful and impractical garb with never a thought for washday or iron. In my own time, I am just another network administrator hanging around in a dusty stuffy wiring closet plugging ports. It would be so much better to travel backwards through the ages and emerge as fashions darling, the toast of the towne, the belle of the ball or the latest beauty.