When you almost can’t name a dress a piece of clothing (or you can when you acknowledge the fact that clothes are, basically, touching you all day long from the moment you put them on) (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 consider even of saying that clothes are just clothes? Whooh!
You can, I am 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, but since we are? Every day, maybe even a couple of times a day?
I could go on an on, I feel it, too.
To enjoy fashion, you don’t have to necessarily stay front row at fashion shows, though 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 you want to be!
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 dollars business, fyi. That is 10 to a power of twelve.
I wore the dress on a night I almost hadn’t got out, but once inside the dress and out of the house, I felt like it was 8 in the morning, not 8 at night, this is how much of a kite I felt like. High as a kite.
Some heels would’ve made it all even higher, but then I don’t think jumping on the pylons would have crossed my mind. #firstworldproblems
Or who knows?
I vaguely remember of anything else about the day I took the picture with my mom wearing the dress but the light that day. The air. Crisp. Mom. Crystalline. Mom, was it on the first (first!) or the last day (of the first grade)? It seems like it might be both, judging by my face in the photograph. In your first grade, who cares? Holiday, school, life, same.
But the air…
And without any connection or with the entire connection in the world: