The Copenhagen Fashion Week is on full steam, but it has been a long time since I was drawn to the unbearable hype that surrounds it. The fashion trade fairs are supermarkets, with departments for both delicatessen and staples, and the customers are simply trying to stock that fridge at home properly for the next season. But from the big hoo-hah you would think that a ticket to any show or fair is a trip to heaven. I used to feel that way about parties, so I can relate, but I can not get exited about it. Not like I do about street art, flea markets and taking pictures.
That is not to say I don't tear up with I get my hands on the perfect fringy cashmere scarf, or a new pair of impossible boots too beautiful to wear. I love good pieces and great cuts and quality, colors and prints. And more than anything I love accessories. But, dear Fashion, having it served up on famished fifteen year olds is getting... well, old.
It's raining like you wouldn't believe in Copenhagen, and it has been all day. I decided to spare my camera the water damage and not go hunting for the wet models in the streets, but I could not resist this shot:
Living close to the ground in a crowded neighbourhood, you are on display.
(sign reads) I'm sorry, did you have the peep-soup?