THE FLAIR OF OFF SHOULDER DRESS WITH PENCIL SKIRT

In front of the portico the headlights fade; the door swings open and the white bodice appears in the darkness, sharp as an inscription on marble. A heel brushes the asphalt, the black skirt falls in a single line and the noises retreat, yielding to the rhythm of her steps.

She climbs the steps one by one, the white band rests on her shoulders and pulses with her breath. Ahead, the vestibule unfolds; its arches guide her toward the hall while behind her they seem to close. Chandeliers tilt their glow onto the white, velvet walls soften every colour, the marble floor magnifies the click of her heel. The whole architecture frames her like a silent backdrop, guarding her figure at the centre of a pristine space.

The threshold opens once more, night air slips across the silk and the black-and-white contrast flares under the portico lights. The theatre closes behind her, leaving only the echo of her heels. A hand opens the car door; the fabric gathers at her knees, the engine stirs to life and the night absorbs her outline.