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Champagne? It’s not really my drink is it now? If I’m really treating myself, a good spirit or liqueur is more to my liking. A nice scotch … or – benedictine, perhaps.
For me the luxurious decadence of champagne isn’t about the beverage – it’s about the rich images that populate my colourful imagination.
Burlesque. Lush textured champagne coloured feathers against red velvet curtains and plush leather lounges. Cigar bars – not that I’m particularly partial to cigars. The two times I indulged, however, were as memorable as the lingering taste of cigar the next day – which, to be honest, was quite disgusting. One evening was a boys night out to celebrate the birth of a baby boy with the proud daddy. I was quite the minority being one of two women honoured with an invite and an Aussie amongst a small crowd of European men from all over the map. The other occasion was some wacky-on-a-whim night out with friends. You know how those things go – you suddenly out-of-nowhere get the idea to go out for a drink. You call a few friends and end up on a wild ride full of cocktail bars, magicians, cigars and the question of whether you’ll answer the phone if the stranger you gave your number to happens to call.
Oh… where was I? Ah, burlesque – feathers, velvet, leather, champagne glasses - and bathtubs that one imagines full of champagne. Lush costumes. Glitter, glam, lingerie, the stage… the costumes (oh the costumes!), the sparkle… the bubble of excitement and a taste of the decadent. Fabulous stuff.
I close my eyes and there I am – the excited and low tones of the audience as they take their seats… the hush as a slight movement on the stage is spotted from the corner of the eye… the silence full of anticipation as the spotlight lights the wooden floor boards of the stage. AND then… the unconscious leaning forward, closer to the stage as the music starts and the emcee steps into the light. There’s the sounds of awe at the physical dexterity on display; laughs of appreciation at the repartee – all mixed with a smidge of healthy voyeurism as we watch classic glamour and the tacky, sometimes vulgar, wonders merge into art. All too soon, the show is over – what to do now? Surely it’s too early…? can’t we just…? oh.. and how about?
My mind wanders off to other luxuries… a hot bath in an aged and worn claw footed tub. Candles flickr lighting the walls as music fills the room. I lie back, listening as the suds whisper their last breath. I stretch my toes and arch back, arms folded toward one another above my head as I sigh happily. My hand reaches out, wrapping around the thin delicate neck of the glass. The fizz and pop of the bubbles in the glass is complimentary to the bubbles covering me and it makes me smile. I lay in the tub, warm and content not wanting to move but knowing that I must, lest my skin become wrinkled and puckered – beaten by the will of the water. I stand and water cascades back into the tub, dripping on the floor as I step on to the thick mat. I pat myself dry and wrap myself into the luscious towel, half yawning – sleepy and relaxed as I head to my bed and curl into the rich silken champagne coloured sheets, my senses fulfilled.
Champagne? It’s code for luxury, decadence… lush textures… bubbles… sparkling goodness… hedonistic scents. It’s divine and awe inspiring. It the things that tease and tantalise the senses.
Colour sample for Luna Jubilee’s 52 Weeks of Colour Blogger Challenge II
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* This post was brought to you by the letter M, the number 1 and the colour of champagne.



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