“We leaned even closer and pressed our foreheads together for consolation, as a promise, fingers entwined, and it was like the last application of color to the canvas, the moment when you know this is what had been waiting to be completed, this is what had existed somewhere, even if just in your imagination.
You have brought it isn't the richness of being. Layer up on layer of color, and when the final one is applied, gold bursts upon the back of your closed eyelids.”
―
Jeanne Mackin,
The Last Collection: A Novel of Elsa Schiaparelli and Coco Chanel