by Iris Herriot

“Until the final typescript of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which is set to be auctioned, the author had planned to call [the heroine] Connie Gustafson.”
—The Guardian

The heavy dark frames on the little chic face;
The gestures so saucy and sprightly;
The happy confusion of grace and disgrace:
I’m calling her Connie Gustafson.

The little black dresses; the innocent greed;
The gold for the powder room (nightly);
The cigarette-holder as long as a reed:
I’m calling her Connie Gustafson.

The crocodile heels as they twirl on the brink;
The pearls that are beaming so brightly;
The vision of youth that is lost in a blink:
I’m calling her Connie Gustafson.