I enjoy being wealthy

How my heart loves to spend a dollar! I’m not sure quite what I would make of myself had I been born into the wretched conditions of Orpha the servant girl. Verily, I couldn’t engage in that type of drudgery, nor spend long hours breathing the repugnant air of the hearth; my hands simply are not mannish or coarse enough, my lungs not robust enough. My constitution is befitting of a lady of my stature: weak as a snow crystal, and as beauteous and rare. But then, had I been born into her caste, I imagine I should have also been born with the vulgar composition that her ilk favors.

I do so love the feel of paper money in my slink-gloved digits; indeed, I pine for its very aroma. Papá says ‘tis not befitting for a lady of means to perform her own marketing, and that I should leave such tasks to those who reside beneath me on the social scale, but I must confess I see no harm in strolling in-to town and visiting the finer boutiques for sundries such as plumed hats and eau de toilette (though naturally I would never deign to purchase my own food items – the very thought! Not having any practical skills regarding maintenance of the home or preparation of food, I sha’n’t know exactly what to purchase!) It doesn’t matter what it is, the very newness of Objects causes joy to course through my veins! The newest novelty lyrical sheets to set before the piano après dinner…or an Edison disc to amuse the family and servants alike…a small pearl comb for my tresses…cosmetic powder to blanch my face further…fine linen paper for corresponding with fellow elites…a small box of chocolates to nibble on when I feel faint at tea-time.

I am not quite certain why the lower class persists in its attempts to drag the rest of us into the muck of their own creation, à la the tracts of Mr. Upton Sinclair, and the strikers of the steel and jute mills. If they believe I am going to cast off my wealth, and, with it, my superiority, as evidenced by the natural weakness that becomes a proper Lady, why, they are simply fools! I sha’n’t be dissuaded from my pursuit of possessing Delicate and Beautiful items. These rapscallions who insist on bemoaning their plight are simply un-Patriotic, possibly Reds and Anarchists. Fie!

Ah, my heart swoons with bliss!

Orpha has only ever held these in her hand! I titter!

A smattering of my purchases of the morn:

1 comment:

Matt said...


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