When you acknowledge the fact that a dress is, basically, touching you all day long, all night long, from the moment you put it on, it’s love, yay, and when you know your mom had the dress tailor-made when you were seven and you’ve kind of had it in front of your eyes ever since and, twenty years later, you put it on and it touches you, how can you ever even consider saying that clothes are just clothes? Whooh!

You can, I’m not saying that you can’t. I’m just saying where would the fun be if we’d only get dressed and arrivederci? I mean if we are to get dressed anyway… It would be great if we weren’t, too, but since we are? Every day, maybe even a couple of times a day?

I could go on an on, I feel it, too.

You can, I’m not saying that you can’t. I’m just saying where would the fun be if we’d only get dressed and arrivederci? I mean if we are to get dressed anyway… It’s great when we are not, too, but since we are…? Every day, maybe even a couple of times a day?

I could go on an on, I feel it, I feel you.

To enjoy fashion, you don’t have to, necessarily, stay front row at fashion shows, although God, I like them! I love clothes for how they make me feel and the power they have to get the best out of us. To transform us. You can be whatever or whoever you want to be!

Butt nakeeeed(!), my brother’s baby girls used to say when they were babies and ran butt naked throughout the house.

Or you can be a wolf and not wear any shoes, nor clothes.

Clothes affect the world much more than the world, actually, acknowledges and fashion is a trillion dollar business, fyi. That is 10 to a power of 12.

I wore the dress on a night I almost hadn’t gone out,

but once inside the dress

and out of the house,

I felt like it was eight in the morning,

not eight at night,

this is how much of a kite I felt like.

High as a kite.

Some heels might’ve made it all even higher, but then I don’t think jumping on pillars would have crossed my mind. Or would it have? #firstworldproblems

I, vaguely, remember of anything else but the light of the day I took the picture with my mom wearing the dress. With my mom and me. The air. Crisp. Mom. Crystalline. Mom, was it on the first or the last day of my first grade at school? It seems like it might’ve been any of them, judging by my face in the photograph. In your first grade, who cares…? Holiday, school, life, same.

Oh, the air…

And without any connection or with the greatest connection of them all: