August 5, 2014 |
Imagine you are a fabulous and fruity woman. So much so, legend of your fabulosity and fruitiness has spread across the length and breadth of London town, and even past its borders. People stop you in the street and ask if they could please, please, please take just one picture of themselves with you to show their friends. Some even wear a silk turban printed with exotic fruits in tribute to the one you wear, as wearing silk atop your head rather than hair is your signature. That and a ruffly something on your lower body that swishes as you move. But you’ve noticed recently that more and more people are wearing ruffly somethings that swish as they move on their lower bodies. You’ve even seen such ruffly somethings in the windows of – shock, horror! – shops on streets referred to as “high”. It seems that those people who so often compliment you on your fabulosity and fruitiness have started to steal it for themselves. “How dare they?” you cry internally. “Mother and Ms Vreeland were right. To maintain panache and one’s status as style icon for the ages, one must always stay one step ahead of the masses. To retain the fabulosity of my fruitiness, I must change. I must reclaim what is rightfully my fruitiness. The ruffly something that swishes as one moves must move up the body. It must be customized. Turned into a fabulous and fruity cropped top with the help of scissors and some thread, and the excess silk printed with exotic fruits must be turned into voluminous sleeves that billow as I walk, and a jaunty little bow must be affixed to the front of my turban. On the lower body, the ruffly something that swishes as you move will be replaced by a sleek sea of blue. From this day forth, until the day they copy me again and try to steal my panache, I will wear jeans of blue denim. The blue of a summer sky on a clear day. I will wear Levi’s. As Ms Vreeland said, ‘Blue jeans are the most beautiful things since the gondola.’” And do you know what makes them beautiful? You. You and your silk turban printed with exotic fruits. Which is why when, every evening, before you sleep, you serenade your Levi’s. “I yi yi yi yi I like you very much,” you sing. “I yi yi yi yi I think you’re grand. Why why why is it that, when I feel your touch, my heart starts to beat, to beat the band. I yi yi yi I like you to hold me tight. You are too too too divine. If you want to be round someone’s legs tonight, just be sure the legs you’re round are mine.”
By Natalie Dembinska
