The fiery buxom, Ms. Lilliana McClae held a certain air about her, as if lifted from another time and place. Being a gypsy, that may all well enough be true....But pass down old hallways of classic, romantic artists long past. Gaze at the many voluptuous models that haunted the painter's tireless brain, marvel at the vixens and soft, cherub maidens that completely enrapture not only their sculptor, but countless generations of admirers to come and pass.
As tribute to her own perfect imperfections, a testiment to buxom beauties across the times, the gypsy witch chose one of her favorite artists, Alphonse Mucha...
Her hair, and elaborate, yet simple updo with a garnishing crown of live, enchanted florals; poppies and forget me nots to adorn her ethereal presence.
The dress; a sweep of supple fabrics that billowed and contoured, rippled and flowed with every motion; slaves to a decadent, yet delicate brocade of stitchery and beads crafted from raw, earthen fruits fresh from the mountain's grit.
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A little stretch of one's imagination might even let the onlooker believe a fine touch of magic went into the crafting of this ensemble. A witch, is a witch, was a witch...
Always a witch.
