She had met Miss Wabor in the Marrakech souks. She was drawn to her instantly. Those were the days when Miss Wabor was in her "before" incarnation. Her style was understated. She wore only the simplest, perfectly cut, cream shift, bare of any ornamentation. But she had fine bones, a trim figure, and there was no denying her loveliness. The blogging girl -- prone to conversations with strangers -- made a gentle query, which was answered and reciprocated. Then one thing led to another. And that was how their friendship began.
Over the last months and weeks, Miss Wabor had.....well, changed. (Marrakech has that affect on some people.) She became.......almost altogether different: freer, more bohemian, more worldly. Perhaps, Miss Wabor became more of her true self. (Although, frankly, the blogging girl's lack of psychology training made her opinions on this matter somewhat suspect). But -- at least on a superficial level -- one couldn't help but notice that Miss Wabor's style had altered dramatically. Gone was the pure, elegant attire, replaced by something rather more...eccentric. She was now even prone to what some might deem excessive accessorizing.
The last time she saw her, Miss Wabor was wearing a vintage orange and green hand embroidered tunic from Pakistan, a kilim bag from Iran, a breastplate with odd old charms from the Sinai, beads from who-knows-where in Africa, a vintage embroidered Miao belt (and as if that weren't enough, a second belt from Sri Lanka covered with beads and shells) and a vintage Indian mirrored apron of some sort. One could only wager a guess as to what Miss Wabor might be wearing next time....a turban? Why nothing would surprise the blogging girl at this rate.
Strangely enough, despite their deepening friendship, a certain formality remained. She continued -- somewhat mysteriously -- only to refer to herself as Miss Wabor. The blogging girl couldn't help but wonder.........about her first name......
