L'autre Petite Mort.

Inspired by New York Fashion Week, I have been contemplating my look for the next season. Contemplating very hard over a weekend bender which I emerged from emotionally unscathed and physically not quite as perfect. Not so bad weighing up the photographic evidence of the unseemly debauchery.

Anyway, I seem to have lost a few thousand brain cells and am decidedly more pallid. And then on Monday: genius!

edith: i think my look for the season is going to be bruised circles under the eyes. makes you look delicate and devious
caroline: A LITTLE DEATH AROUND THE EYES
edith: is it really a "look" if it's just the way your life turned out?
caroline: do we care if we are hot?

And just like that, the denouement! The look for the season: A Little Death.

It's nice sometimes to find there was a point to all the drugs and alcohol we've consumed - I mean, a point other than peer group pressure and social lubrication.


(Now it's almost 6pm, I figure it's a good time to start putting on the make up. At the rate I'm going, I'll be all dolled up in time to leave work and head straight to a bar. Any bar. Although given that right now I look like Marcel Marceu attacked by a slut stick, perhaps I should favour areas where I'm known to just look like a whore, not whore it out too. Ho-hum.)