I envy the stylish model
her styrofoam perfect *******
those legs that never need shaving
the sweet smile that needs no rest
the hair that’s always behaving
the pose that teasingly arrests
she’s a icon of current fashion
a flower neatly pressed
but no love will ever find her
no one cares if she’s undressed
she’ll never accomplish anything
never mind - I’m not impressed

Fashion’s symbolic sensuality draws eyes, stir passions and maybe even resentments!  =]

Of course, maybe you’re above worldly conceits, above fashion. YOU, go through life as unaware as sinless Adam and you’re excessively handsome, or pretty, obviously.

But for the rest of us - fashion is the medium of our beauty and God created Paris for fashion.

We’re pretending we’ve come to Paris (our immediate, pandemic safety-pod-family) for a family reunion - but REALLY, we’re on safari - a freshmen, college-wear, “back to school,” ensemble hunt (for meeeeeeeeeeee!).

Step 1 (there’s only 1 step) - go to the Rue Saint-Honoré.

This year, I like-like Anna Molinari - most of the ready-to-wear daily-trash I snapped-up is hers - all hers. It didn’t start out that way - but she sould me on an uncharted course at first sight.

Other designers seem to be pushing old-lady-looking floral prints this season. Eeuw! Why?? DIAF.

My gran-mère (grandmother) told me - 6 days ago - as she attempted to tame my run-away hair: “You need to be unpredictable, petite beauté, not some comely young automaton. Then everyone will find you interesting and watch to see what you do next.”

Thank you, gran-mère - I’ll settle for looking interesting any time.

at age 8 i stopped wearing jeans because they were uncomfortable.

at age 14 i wore high heels, fish nets, and skirts to school and a man once asked my mother if she really let me leave the house looking like that.
i also wore checkered pajama pants and shirts with holes in them to class, i dressed up and down because everyone else seemed to dress in the middle.
i dressed however i wanted to because my mother told that guy to shut the **** up and mind his own business.

at age 16 i wore crop tops the size of sports bras and pants so tight i understood why they called them skin-ny jeans
my **** and *** would be flying all over the place,
but people with larger **** and larger bellies, people like me, weren't supposed to be wearing those sorts of things so i thought i must.
or so i thought.

at age 18 i started dressing in oversized shirts and formless dresses
i didn't believe my body needed to be objectified and put on display anymore,
i didn't need to prove that my waistline was small enough,
i didn't need to wear the spanx i wore every day at 16.

at age 20 i stopped wearing make up or a bra,
my **** sagged and eyes bagged but i wanted to show people that ***** aren't always perky even on twenty year olds.
i also stopped shaving my armpits
i thought they were cute.

at age 22 i stopped shaving my legs.
i didn't think they were cute.
but i realized not every decision i made about how i presented myself needed to be in order to make myself more beautiful.

and at age 24 i shaved my head.

a man once asked me,
as he looked at my college ring wrapping itself around my pointer finger,
if i always did things differently just to be different?
and if id always be doing things just because someone told me not to?

i should have looked at him and asked him
what has he ever been told he cannot do?

Camera, lights, action...
Wake up, get up and don't forget to stay up.
Sway n walk but remember not to drop,
this is what we are going to call fashion.
Bring your hips left to right, stand up tall
and try not to fright. Bright lights up in it,
cause every gentleman loves to stare as the
senorita walks up the stairs in her high stilettos.
Smell of fresh fabric and the grip of leather tights,
take it and wear it because tonight you're the Queen
of the ball baby, coming out through the dark light.
We want fashion, poise and something to call Sensuous.
Do the cat walk
Strike a pose and tip to your toes,
cause tonight is fashion.
Competitive looks and reading books, you know you're in
it for the game to win it.

there's secrets, hidden beneath the corduroy
a world of wonder
where admission varies
guest to guest,
it's a game of guess
at whether you're let in
or you're like the rest,
corduroy's the fashion though
for sure
they'll be others
that hold you high up
just to push you down under

The color of passion, the color of pain



The color of delusion, the color of flames



I slip my swollen soles into your hallow hysteria



Cracked, fragile feet from the frost bite



  of a West Virginia snow



Size six, ruby red stilettos



and I push



and I pull



and I scream



and I sigh



and I try and I try and I try



In my six, ruby red stilettos



Freezing poetic lullabies



Until I can find a place to call my own



  

Sparks of scarlet bloodlines



Dripping down my spine



Wrestling through rivers



between the spaces in my mind


My heart is much too loud for a place like this



My lips are much too quiet for a place like this



I dance with him in



The color of courage

The color of fame

The color of charisma

The color of strength



The color of my lipstick when its fading through my lies



Much too broken



Much too bold



Bursting into a violet plum



until I am in pieces—



until I decide to throw myself back together again



In my size six, ruby red stilettos



and it wasn't my intention to force them to fit



and I push



and I pull



and I scream



and I sigh



and I sell dignity of my poverty



to get them to come off of me



but once I started dancing



I fell in love with the sound



of my heels clicking



the surface of the floor



and I made myself a home



in my size six, ruby red stilettos.

Wrap myself up in Saturday
Tighten the day around me
Relaxation should be fashion
With a stage of people lounging
Letting the week fall away
Wouldn’t that be luxury
A runway show
Of casual mornings, easygoing evenings
Affordability in the convenience
Drink down fancy coffee and hot chocolate
As Saturday becomes a world renowned designer
Of my relaxation