Sunday, October 3, 2010

A confession...

Ok.  I have a confession.  I am currently, secretly obsessed with exposed undergarments under sheer fabric, architectural elements in clothing, metallic foil nails, and epaulettes.  
As I scan Tommy Ton’s latest slideshow ( of the streets of Paris fashion week I see so many looks from the Spring/Fall 2010 collections in action and my eyes are drawn to these show stopping elements.  In my head they whirl together and end with a vision of myself in a 1940’s structured bustier and boy-short under a black sheer breakfast at Tiffany’s style dress.  Like the movie I too stand on a city sidewalk and as the breeze picks up I swirl on a dress coat somewhere between black and royal blue, perhaps it is a black and royal blue small tweed or plaid but whatever the color, striking and beautiful, the epaulettes seem to fasten themselves at my shoulder perfectly placed and effortless.  I stand neat in my coat like the military uniform of yesterday that inspired the epaulettes.  My metallic wrapped nails fasten the center button in the side by side button rows.  The top of the jacket flaps open so that even in the chill of the air there is the sheer dress peaking through creating mystery.  In this scene my shoes are fierce, platformed, patent and shining, my coat is tailored and screams of strength but the peak of sheer dress, and the feminine foundation secretly whisper of vulnerability.  Sigh, alas this scene exists only in my mind. 
There are so many of these similar juxtapositions that strike my fancy these days.  Tailored leather for the office.  Industrial embellishments with silks and chiffon.  I feel this so describes the woman of today.  Rather not to speak for all women, but i think this is a combination that suits me.  I am armored in the streets but underneath it all I am demure.  At least I like to think so.  
I have been told the 1940’s structured bustier and boy-short alone under a totally sheer dress is not acceptable in Ohio.  But I am working on a way to make it so.  Or perhaps if I just wait until Spring it will have made it over from Paris with love.  I tell myself this waiting for warmer weather is my friend, time to thrift my own interpretation.

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