First Love

Fashion is constant sensory overload.  Dizzying paisley prints demand your attention, the clink of multiple gold bangles invade your ear, the ripple of pleating against your palm - our senses take a lot of battering from fashion.  But as much as it's a battering, each punch is sealed with a kiss.  How do I know then, when among all this beauty, I truly love something?  I love a lot of things in fashion, but only when...

...I find myself wandering within the crevices of beaded embellishment, sweeping my eyes across each and every stone.

...I'm stunned by the sharpness of strict, angular tailoring, or lulled by a soft, caressing cut.

...my heart aches at the way a dress drapes and floats ever so perfectly, making every second feel like a precious, fleeting moment.

...I have a profound urge to reach out and feel the tickling of a feather plume, the ridges of a snakeskin bag, or the cool touch of metal hardware.

...I dive into a fantastic colour, deeper and deeper until the colour saturates my swimming mind.

...I'm seduced into another era, exploring rich history; or thrown into another land, tiptoeing through uncharted paths.

...I'm lost in the vertical slices of knife pleat skirt, or swept up and gathered in Grecian ruching.

...I have no greater desire than to open up a jacket and examine the flawless construction and straight seams - every designer's true signature.

Fashion as poetry, written for my first love.

Image Source: Photo 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8