compulsion sometimes comes in the form of an orange dress. an orange dress, a blue skirt, and a black angora capelet to be precise.
also compulsion doesn't quite know when to stop. because after telling various people about said compulsions i proceeded to surf the online shops for something else to catch my fashion fancy.
and what's sad is that i found stuff! there's this cute pair of green silk kimono shoes i think will match nicely with some outfits i have at home. then there's this necklace that will match the shoes. and some sweaters and skirts that i can wear with coats i have already bought.
then the buyer's remorse starts to creep into my psyche. remorse and reason. and they ask of me, "just where the hell do you think you're going wearing an orange dress?" hmmm. indeed. where
am i going? well, i like to think my social life is available for fancier dress, that there are occasions where an orange dress may come in handy. like say, when gentleman drinker throws his orange day parade and party. but that day seems so distant and imaginary that i dare not hold my breath.
yet there's something bordering on talent and art in acquiring pieces to a hand-picked wardrobe. hues and materials are to be carefully considered, then paired, layered to create a smart and seductive ensemble. a discerning eye employed to find the right balance of dark and light, soft and stiff, where the palette includes textures as well as colors.
take a plum chiffon dress with billowy sleeves and complement it with a slash of red ribbon across the neck. call it "bluebeard's bride." here a deep v velvet neckline in chocolate brown over high-necked ivory lace blouse, cinched waist with olive belt, peacock blue satin bustle, suede buckled boots - "velvet bluebell of victoria." i can almost sense the brush strokes, the music forming, the cold shape coming to life...
if only other people understood the madness/genius of my disease, recognized the complexity of the art. i would feel wholly justified in my pursuit of fashion.
