A FASHION HOUSE OF LOVERS

From London a gent of consummate manners
From Paris an homme of great charm
From Berlin a männlich so determined
And a New Yorker set out to disarm

It was from this fashion house of lovers
Svetlana felt she needed to choose
Just the one who she saw as her soul mate
Be the one she did not want to lose

Yet herein lay her dilemma
For all had both good points and bad
After pondering, soul searching and brooding
The whole episode was driving her mad

For the Englishman could be quite boring
The Frenchman she felt he might stray
The German had no sense of humour
And the Yank wanted sex night and day

The day came rather sooner than later
When Svetlana faced up to her dread
Instead of selecting just one of her beaus
She would let them all share her bed

Plainly not at the same time
For she did have scruples you see
Yet on balance and after a great deal of thought
She decided she’d stay both wild and free

So what if her plan was not perfect
Indeed her game of love needed strict rules
Yet in London, Paris, Berlin and New York
She had her ‘perfumery of fools’

Should my recent work take your fancy, herewith the links. I believe the Kindle thingy is free; the paperback inexpensive;

Copyright © 2020. All rights reserved. Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, and lending, prohibited although in a crisis I’ve no issue with any reader using the pages of said books as emergency’s loo roll.


34 thoughts on “A FASHION HOUSE OF LOVERS

    1. Cheers, Ms S. Very kind of you to say so. I missed you and the others when down in the proverbial dumps through most of last year. Now I’ve come to accept IBS isn’t going the disappear, day to day life has become more tolerable. By the way…it shows just how far I’d lost the plot that it made me laugh…Shirl was proofing/reading, what I’d called ‘the standalone sequel’ to Blue-Eyed Cat when she told me, in no uncertain terms, that it was not, in part or at all, ‘standalone’. Reviewing the thousands of words she’d ‘ringed’ I had to agree. It was rubbish…good rubbish, mind…but nonetheless, rubbish. My how we laughed! That said, all the very best to you and yours. Regards, The Old Fool

      1. Oh sometimes you do laugh. It is called the seven stages of suck. Where you start thinking.. I (in bold) wrote this? The it’s I wrote this (As in cant’ get over. how clever I am. ) all the way to I wrote this? (seriously) to how could i possibly write this. It’s shite,. SHirl has added another level though as a reader. But mind. Watch what you bin okay. Stash it somehwere xxxxxxx

      2. I’d score myself about 8 out of 10 for the English, maybe 1 out of 10 for the tale. I gave it a ‘1’ because it was the best ending I’ve ever penned. But really, all I’d done with the main story, in hindsight, was little more than a cloudy mirror copy of the original. I had no idea I’d done that at time of writing. None at all.
        I always listen to your fine advice these days…hence I have spent hours collecting the worthy parts of what I wrote to use again as and when. I don’t know how you professional writers stay sane, yet you do. Have a fine weekend. Regards, The Old Fool

      3. Mike, you’re every bit a professional writer. Don’t think for a second you’re not. Great that you have kept the bits. Let them sit a bit then go back with fresh eyes and the ten word elevator pitch. Seriously that is the if you had to describe what this is about in ten words, what would they be. Sounds impossible but honest, you go to the bones of what it is about and that is then your focus for everything else.

      4. Splendid advice. My thanks. You have my little grey cells working again. Given non-stop rain, predicted to last to eternity, I now have something to think on. Have a wonderful weekend, you and yours.

    1. My thanks. It’s an interesting song, without doubt. It came into being back in 1969 and I’ll admit, what with the overdose of supreme artists at the time I never gave it much heed. Over time I’ve rather taken to it, although I’ve yet to sing it out loud…if I did the missus would probably kill me as I can’t sing a note.

      1. HEh,heh, this guy I used to work with, we faced each other across machines, so I well remember how whenever this came on the radio he’d be so full of it! HE was about 15 years or so older than me, so for him it was a song of his heyday – he was a curious fellow for sure – he had lived on the last coal barge in Oxfordshire, or Berkshire, or somewhere round there, he used to tell me stories about it all. One time we were walking together after work and someone bibbed the car horn to tell us to get a move on & he climbed on the bonnet and sat on it cross legged! He was such a card! 😀 😀

    1. My thanks, Pam. The snap, in all truth, is genuinely that of dear Svetlana herself who once cared for my every need. It was taken on a period of leave from the Carmelite convent of silence and humility. My how I miss her purity for she really was as pure as the driven snow, as you can clearly see from the photograph. Regards, The Old Fool

  1. LOLOL!! Fab poem TOF.
    So, this Svetlana… you were in her stable?
    There’s perfume in the air!
    Very nice song. Hadn’t heard it before.

    1. Ah, Svetlana. What I diamond gal. There was a time when blogging/writing etc. when I called myself Twattersley Fromage MBE, TP, UFC, WNKR of the First Order & Jolly Decent Chap. Twatters was renowned for his loyalty to Queen and country, yet when it came to the gals he was an idiotic English buffoon. All the gals he fancied left him yet he never understood why. At the time I was running out of storylines for him…then, enter Svetlana (a real person) of the sexy Eastern European accent. Shirl & I were in the Russian café at the time. Svetlana, possibly the most stunning human ever to walk the globe, was the new waitress. A confident young lady, to boot. That was the day she became Twatters muse, but unlike the others this gal didn’t leave him. Aware of his great riches she tagged along always in the knowledge she’d inherit his fortunes, not that Twatters realized that…what with him being a twat. There you have it, young Resa. Regards TOF

  2. What a perfect name for a group! And yes, better to be wild and free, as any one of those commitments would lead to unhappiness. I could feel the pressure on Svetlana to make a choice–that was the growth–the realization that she didn’t need to make a choice at all. Masterfully done, my friend!

    1. My thanks, young Ms Lee and aplogies also for taking so long replying. Now I’ve finish the idiotic story of my life I hope to post more on WP. Best wishes from England, The Old Fool

      1. Hey, NEVER apologize. I’m still struggling to get on here more than a few times a month. It’s a struggle to sneak from the school yard, to be sure!

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