Passing by a window display, staring at the faceless mannequin, a sense of wonder touches me. Why, most of the time that faceless thing wears an outfit classier than mine. That awkward moment when it can pull off an outfit better than i can. So i tried to fit in all the sizes, trying so hard to replicate that thing and suddenly end up buying just to boost my self esteem.
That moment when i thought that fashion is all about name and not feelings. How can a faceless emotionless mannequin tell me what’s good for me and what’s not? I look into it and i suddenly see myself. A clueless expression covering my real emotions. The inner voice whispering that fashion is you, only if you truly feel it. Not how others see you nor on how the trends define you.
Fashion is never wrong. It’s like the clouds that change its shapes and the sky that changes its color. To be engulfed by it is like eating a cake and licking an ice cream. Some days they’re so sweet, some days you don’t feel it , not because your mood dictates your taste buds but only because you think time is the culprit. It changes as fast as that ice cream melts long before it touches your lips so you better have it.
So different from Art that time is not a chief antagonist but a friendly ally. Fashion is an art, but art can never be fashion. Art is timeless. So next time i look at the faceless mannequin and see a beautiful window display, i just smile. I know i will never be Fashion. I will always be an Art.