More Fashion

If you've ever wondered about the fashion industry, i'm about to give you a profound insight.


^"I've always wanted to play Luke Skywalker! Now thanks to Australia's Fashion Week, I CAN! Where's my lightsaber?"



^If she were any happier about her catwalking abilities, her face would fall off.


^Fashion embraces all kinds of body types. Even those with three or more breasts!



^"Of course i would actually wear these glasses in public. See i'm already doing it on the catwalk!"


^Homage to all conservative Muslim women who want to take the next step in the fashion industry.



^ You can tell she really loves wearing 20 pounds of decorations on her head.


^The girl on the left is running the risk of having her bones poke holes through her skin. The girl on the right was kidnapped and forced into fashion modeling. (check out the hair...no brushed in weeks!)

Model this

The models have hit the streets with their tiny arses and stileto shoes. The cries of a million malnurished women have been silenced with smaller dress sizes. Australia's fashion week is here again.

With a polite nod to political correctedness, i am curvey. So it is perhaps my curves that cause sense of decency to run and hide when a model of 2 pounds is seen as "normal" for the catwalk. The thighs that do not touch saunter down the aisle, daring the skin to make contact with skin as the model scizors her legs along. Hair is pulled drastically away from the face so the limpness does not cause stares and the protruding cheekbones mark the face as gaunt. Her eyes are hollow but overshaddowed with enough makeup to secure a make-over to the residents of a small country. The hands are boney, with fingers like spider legs. The miss-hung clothing hangs off the model revealing parts of a woman that even her closest companion probably didn't know about.

And this is what is toted as the epidomy of fashion. This is what i should strive to achieve. A boney frame that might break upon a hug. Eyes that are vaccant and clothing that hangs from a starved body.

I will take my curves that do not fit into every article of clothing. I will keep my flushed cheeks. My hair will continue to shine and allowed bounce with my steps. Because i am a woman who is loved. I have a body that is loved. I do not need the high fashion skelotons to tell me i'm not good enough. My lover is not bruised against my protroding bones. My nails are strong and beautiful. I can walk more than the length of a catwalk and i can definately see through you.

survived by three cats

Death is a morbid topic. (It's a bit redundant to put it that way, but i was hoping to catch your attention with a clever opening line) No one wants to think that every one they know will eventually end up pushing up daisies, but at some point your mind will go there and if your quick enough to turn it back to something else, you're much more clever than I.

Wikipedia is a fascinating source of information of a vast array of different people, places and things. Today I skipped places and things and went straight to people. I read the biography of Capucine. She was a beautiful girl who was a model and actress from the late 1940s - 1990. She was a bright girl with a B.A. in Foreign Languages. And like all girls, she had a few strange ideas. She was once quoted as saying, " A woman needs to know that the man is her master". She also was a manic-depressive. She was fabulously happy one minute and tragically suicidal the next.

Although Capucine was seen as a sex object to men around the world, and she obviously had some interesting ideas about men's roles, she never had a long term relationship with a man. (and there is no evidence that she was a lesbian either so you can get that thought out of your head!). She had affairs. The longest known was two years with a man who was married and known to have been "in love" with her friend Audrey Hepburn. But none of her affairs really lasted.

After other suicide attempts, Capucine finally jumped from her 8th floor apartment on 17 March 1990. Her obituary read that she was survived by her three cats. Either the columnist didn't like her much, or she lived a very lonely life.

Forgive me for being a bit morbid today...but this was a life glimpse I thought worth telling. Hopefully our obituaries will have more to say than "survived by three cats".