You see, we don’t sell things. We sell the idea of their potential in her world. At first, I didn’t know if I could handle a manipulative business model. But the women I work with are truly sweet, so I convinced myself I was playing house, and it helped. Now I fold the hand-embroidered tea towels and daydream. How funny that the IRL has wedged me into a life even less real than the one I had to leave. The aprons are downstairs and the shoe cupboard’s around the corner. There’s even a fragrance that smells like angel food cake. (via (un)tidying domestic bliss 1: where the candle burns | THE STATE)
