Someone told me last night that I was NOT MYSTERIOUS enough to be a femma fatale. I, however, disagree. For the following reasons, I could clearly make the cut to be one of those kinds of women. Duh.
- Chanel 75. What kind of mysterious-type lady leaves the house without her kickass signature red lipstick on her lips to leave lovely lipstick stains on the rim of the very dry martini in her hand and on the lips of her lovers? I will default to the red that is Chanel 75 for this.
- Trench Coat and Large Sunglasses. When traveling incognito, these key pieces are extremely useful to easily escape from bad guys and making sure they *horror of horrors* don't recognize you. Coincidentally, these staples are also really useful for surviving Spring in the windy city with its flaky gale to showers to sun pattern.
- Mystery. I'm totally full of secrets. For sure. And I definitely don't wear my heart on my sleeve. Ever.
- Persuasive. Femme Fatales know how to get what they want. Usually with just an icy cold stare. I can glare, I can flutter my eyelashes, I can flip my hair. And, typically, outcomes are just as I'd hoped they'd be.
- Smart. Even Brian says I'm almost too clever for a woman. Cleverness always pays off when you are trying to outwit bad guys and make good guys fall at your feet. So, I hear.
- Adventurous. I am certainly adventurous in my pursuits; I even have a little taste for danger, a big taste for the unknown. I'd definitely be willing to flee to far off corners of the world to perfect my femme-fatale-ing, wreaking havoc, breaking hearts all along the way.
- Dark. Dark hair, dark eyes. A boiling white hot sea of rage underneath layers of sacchrin sweetness. Yeah, I could be dark and twisty if I wanted to be. Duh.
- I'm well read in the nature of bombshells and femme fatales. Research is always the biggest part of the battle, right? Game. Set. Match.