I can't believe that we have come to this point, but here we are... at the end of a three day fashion week that might as well have been a lecture on the latest development in farming equipment. It is like the lips are moving, but they are not talking to me, and neither of us care to make the effort to understand one another.
It is not that I don't still appreciate a good cut, mad colors, proportions and above all the accessories. Maybe it just have to do with the fact that I am not a stick woman with a million dollar clothing budget, I am not a lady who lunch and I don't care to dress like one either. I do, however, get a rush from hunting for clothes, preferably vintage and at a price that will still allow me to eat well and travel as often as possible. There is something magical about bringing home a newly discovered piece that will fit into the "family" and stay until it falls apart. The long-term relationship. I am not above buying something regrettable just because I need the fix, but the really good pieces, somehow always a case of love at first sight, come at their own pace.
Fortunately for the good people of the Copenhagen Fashion Week there is no shortage of people who would give their right arm to report on the latest thing. Not dragging myself through it like I am having my teeth pulled is the kindest thing I can do for everybody involved, trust me. Anyway, for some reason I really feel how short life is at the moment, and I only want to fill mine with what touches my heart. And my eyes:
Tell me if you have ever seen a sexier saddle?
-or a finer use of medium and negative space?
Love the city at night. (I do)
That's a kindergarten in the background with all the stuffed animals in the window, in case you were wondering. This may sound strange, but I find this bench really inviting. Except for the fact that I took this shot with my back turned to four dead swans on the lake, but that heartbreak is for another post.
God loves you. Bench therapy for the religiophobic (hi).
(reads:) He makes patterns on the ground with the tip of his shoe. No space disappears with growth and development: the global will not replace the local.