What's the story here?

It was eleven o'clock in the morning. We were on the corner of Rue St. Honore and the Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau in the 1st Arondissment, sitting at a cafe and sipping a cafe creme.

She crossed the street, coming from the Rue de Marengo, walking with a young guy in jeans and a tee shirt. She wore a short tiered skirt, a wheat-colored satin corset over an ivory lace camisole, and in her dark hair she wore a hat with a blue-frosted feather. Pale-colored stockings and taupe high-heels, mary-janes tied with bows.

Her friend disappeared out of sight, but she stood on the corner, uneasily shifting, toeing in her feet, adjusting the corset, sighing impatiently, hands on hips. The workday commuters passed her by, paying little attention.

Bored. Pensive. Impatient. What's her story? Let's write it.