“this is the one and only tourist-y thing i permit myself -- and i promise, you can laugh at me right after we get the perfect shot.” they were at the trevi fountain, dalia dressed in a gauzy, strapless black maxi-dress as she perched herself on the edge with one arm stretched gracefully to the air. one shot, and then another, before she used both hands to spread her skirt out behind her, as her chin tilted up slightly with her gaze falling down. as cliché as it might be, of course dalia karolina had known every frame of anita ekberg’s triumphant anointment of marcello mastroianni by heart. finally satisfied, she bounded back to coco to peer at her phone. “i thought they’d let me go inside the water for a picture, since i’m a ‘princess’ and all-” her fingers quoted lazily at the word. “anyway - thank you, darling, you’re a gem!” she grinned over at the statuesque duchess, before moving to stow her phone back into her bag. “do you also want a picture?” ( @cvrdelia )
