And so she slipped behind the curtain and in front of the lens of the camera. But to everyone's dismay, the image began to break apart in a series of vertical, positive/negative stripes. To be quite honest, she was hardly amazed.
Thinking her arms were perhaps in the way, she lifted them so the technician could get a better shot. The image began appearing and though we could see something was there....it was hard to determine the identity of those masses. Were we witnessing some sort of internal growth? Fashion has guts? No, she thought. Fashion has not advanced in years. It resists new technology. It HATES the now and the future. It remains comfortably in the past. Snap another shot, technician dearest.
No bones about it, something was clearly there. A skeleton of a structure. But why is everything new always topsy-turvy, chaotic without a cause?
My goodness, now I'm seeing double and triple. But I still don't know what's under it all. 1950's, 60's, 70's or 90's...Is style simply a repeat of itself, mass produced over and over without thought or soul? Is the point only to look good externally without any semblance of depth?
Or am I simply over reacting, over thinking the concept? Slave to fashion, I am doomed to relive its history, over and over and over again.
