Guest
Once upon a time, down a sordid Soho alley, in a pink room that smelled of Morroccan roses, seduction and musk, there were three shop girls and their sassy store manager. All day long these girls folded tiny clouds of lace and silk into black lacquer drawers; they wrapped beautiful women into straps of glittering crystal and they guessed the cup sizes of flustered mens’ lovers. And they loved it. Because they were working in the sexiest shop in the world. From the pink and black gift boxes to the flashing
