i am in love with decadence and decay, so catch me dancing circles in a soiled edwardian wedding gown with the silk splitting at the seams, or walking to the drugstore in old furs and faded lace lingerie from the ‘70s. my closet is an ode to luxury that has lost its luster, like an old hollywood star fading into the 21st century, face blurring with age but her old grammy sits tarnished on the mantel.
in the age of fast fashion and blogging we are racing against time to stay fresh, but i say, to hell with your outlets and five dollar deals. give me organza and raw silk, tiaras missing diamonds, old prom dresses covered in cigarette ashes with that sickly peony scent lingering in the folds. i want to bleed for fashion, so please bury me in chanel.