All for Nothing

This quintessential uber-dandy of  the Fin de Siecle in this portrait we snapped in the Musee D’Orsay is clearly the ideal portrayal of the “True Man”

Monsieur D’Aubignay looked contentedly at his face in the pier glass. Behind his immaculate figure was reflected the exquisite Art Nouveau details of his delightful apartment on the Rue Cardinal Lemoine. He almost adjusted his remarkably long waxed moustache but fortunately realised it was already perfect the moment before his delicate fingers disturbed its symmetry.

Giving the vermilion carnation in his buttonhole a tender caress he picked a piece of invisible lint from his cuff and turned his gold cravat pin of a serpent with two ruby eyes a fraction to the right.

Grasping purposefully his “Monday” cane, with its top of ivory carved in the form of a writhing and blatantly nude naiad he stepped outside, deftly rearranging a peony in the Japanese vase on the way past the hall table made especially for him by Majorelle.

His hand ran along the Guimard stair rail and he stepped out into the street, the air heavy with the scent of the chestnut trees, treading directly onto a huge dog turd.

“Merde!” He said.

 

Fin

Thanks to Priceless Joy for supplying the prompt for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.

The prompt below is an image from the Storyteller’s Abode and the charming street made me think of this little tale of woe.

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