Today was the day.
It finally arrived.
The September Issue.
916 delicious pages ushering in the fall, and all things beauty and fashion. A celebration of the luxurious. And as an added bonus there are always wonderful human interest stories tucked inside.
Every August I anticipate this day. It has been my annual ritual since I was 14. One late summer afternoon per year, this monstrosity of a magazine arrives in my mailbox, much to the chagrin of my mail carrier. I fall to pieces. I’m like Steve Martin in The Jerk, when his dimwitted character Navin Johnson jumps for joy at the arrival of the phone book.
I will spend my night quietly curled up in my favorite chair, with a cup of tea and my treasure in my lap. I will study it carefully, oohing and aahing at the beautiful things that grace the pages.
I guess I’m easy to please.
And I’m one happy girl.