Apologies for the disappearance, I had a 'disagreement' with my old laptop; it just couldn't handle the volume of Nicole Kidman searches and related mess-ery committed daily. I celebrated purchasing the new one by immediately downloading all the Italian Sky Tv commercials Nicole recently filmed. Do you know in one of them she goes to a residents meeting and asks for a swimming pool on the roof?! Love.
I digress.
Fanci's little boutique escapade got me thinking about clothes; the humongous variety of styles, shapes and prices - a huge smorgasbord of cold-keeper-outers and sexifiers, most of which can be located on said Schmancy's STY of a bedroom floor.
I pondered on how I have no fashion sense whatsoever and have a tendency to look simpleton-ish when aiming for avant garde. This depressed me momentarily; how no one will ever look at me descending a staircase and say 'Wow', unless I'm descending head first, or ablaze, in an out of control wheelchair. Why oh why can I not pick the right rig outs?!
But then I remembered dear Isadora and what happened when SHE tried to show off...and that picked me up immensely. Lets elaborate!
Isadora Duncan, darling of the 1920's art scene, world renowned dancer, believed by many to be the originator of the modern dance movement - now you KNOW she'd be a fashiony showoff, just look at the picture, what a stylish GEE BAG. Well SICK, Isadora, SICKENER INDEED - look what you get...
Isadora went on a fashionable drive in a fashionable car and her fashionable flowing scarf caught the fashionable air gusting beautifully by and stylishly blew towards the ground where it got caught in the trendy wheels of the car and choked her to death, almost decapitating her hip and happening head. Seriously.
Now we move to the Isadora of our times:
Our multicultural society is a true melting pot, each novel friend from a new country can teach us about other ways of life, different ways of looking at things, mixing the old and new, foreign and local. Glorious.
Here's two things that shouldn't mix though - burkas and go-karts. A Muslim woman was recently killed in Sydney when her burka got entangled in the wheels of her zippy little mo-mo. A terrible tragedy, but for some strange reason, the newspaper article I read about it in also informs us that you can ride the go-karts for up to 15 minutes at a time! Deadly!
Another celebrity some might be familiar with is Jerry Fuchs (that's an amusing name), the drummer from !!! (I HATE that they insist you pronounce it 'ChikChikChik' - oh, here's my band name '^*£&££^', you pronounce it 'Peggy', bah!) and The Juan McLean.
Mr Fuchs was indeed fucked when he was riding a freight elevator which got stuck between floors. He and a friend decided to pull back the metal doors and make a jump for it. His friend landed safely but poor Jerry's top caught on the elevator, swinging him back into the open shaft where he plummeted, as Lydia Deetz would say, to his death.
What can we learn from these tragedies? Should we not wear anything flowy? Should we go for skin tight? Wear bright colours to warn oncoming traffic in the dark? Who knows? Not me.
At least, if you have to go - which we all do - it might be good to be remembered as a true fashion victim, whose cutting edge chic may have contributed to your doom but by God you looked great when you croaked.
There are worse ways. Like this for instance-
Tis good to be back on Blog Street
PUTRID DUNNE
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