- Visitor
Sign in
With the social season fast approaching, Rhys insisted on taking me to Fifth Avenue for a new wardrobe.
“I don’t want to go,” I resisted. “I’m not in the mood for shopping right now.”
“You have to,” Rhys said, his tone leaving no room for argument as he draped a coat over my shoulders. “As Mrs. Foster, you can’t be seen in last season’s clothes. This is a work requirement, baby.”
We walked into Bergdorf Goodman—the favorite department store of Manhattan's old money.
Sign in with Google
By proceeding, We will assume you have read and agree to our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.