Fashion, (quand) m'êmés.
Some girls just can’t say No.
To Fashion, Clothes, The Outdoors (No. hmmm that was easy), Gold barrettes, Chocolates (NO! Hmm that is not registering), Books in a corner cosy fireplace oversized wing-backed chair, The Great Gatsby themed parties, Afternoon Tea with the Girlfriends, Amuse Bouche plus the 6pm-(sharp) no-jackets required Apéro at the corner 6pm Pub, and the Usual Smoke-Inflected Large Room Loud Launch Parties.
Is this the meta-fantasy of someone locked in her own world for years onwards after moving place after place? Doubt it.
It is a careful mastery of self, intersected with extreme heat and frustrating lack of high-bandwidth device encryption, also being the centre of the nerdiest content streams on air (or earth), and being quite temperature controlled, pressure-aggrandised, and subtle-savoury can be the formula for you guessed it: unusual penchance for sub-versive sub-stantiated self-authored, self-stamped creativity.
Or whatever you call it.
This September, I will be making my first film feature - or what is at least a feature on all the stills compiled in the last ten years. And this was sparked by this film, the film. That i had attended the launch of at the Capitol Piazza theatre downtown. It was inspiring and was launched by a guild of artists based in Asia - and now, some delayed-long-time-wanting 7 years later, i am able to get my inertia on. (Ugh, that word.)
This post is dedicated to the Originals, and the people (not just the awesome women necessarily, though it helps we were borne by them) - who pursue their craft, their interest, and the fact that they need not to apologise to anyone, at any point in time, at all.
The premise of LabourDay in May, would stress that we are to expand ourselves - in the space that permits us to be fully who we are, in our minds (the architect of our instances), to the actual physical reality that we cull all our experiences, in real-time.
Start with a journal. And write here. Right now.