I often think my life would be better and more complete if I'd been a ballerina. I'd be fit and have the gracefulness that has eluded and tantalised me my whole life. Completely unfounded is my certainty that I would have been good. I could not tell you why I think this, I just feel it.
Shows like the Viktor & Rolf make me ache for that life that never was. Members of the Dutch National Ballet served as the models and danced down the runway. The hair was a little Grudge-like and the light somewhat eerie but it was creepy in that beautiful, fragile way that makes me fall in love with a Poe, Munch or Burton. The idea of blurring the boundaries between skin and cloth, making the two work together symbiotically, is again, somewhat creepy, almost like the garments were alive. But what mysterious, wonderful creatures.
Can I live in that world that looks like animated little birds have flown in to dress me?
(Images from vogue.co.uk)
No comments:
Post a Comment