I found you in a medium-sized basket, on the floor of an old and dirty warehouse.
There was a party, lights were down, I couldn’t see you clearly.
I relied on touch and texture.
The moment I touched you, your rich, velvet fabric gave my fingers a sensorial – almost surreal – experience to remember.
I appreciated that!
I took you home.
You’ve been hanging in all my wardrobes; moving in and out of houses; moving in and out of countries.
You were there.
It’s been around 10 years now.
I haven’t worn you much.
So few memories of me wearing you, having you on my shoulders, around my waist.
Never considered giving you away, leaving you back in any of those now forgotten wardrobes.
Always carried you with me.
Folding and unfolding you in and out of that orange suitcase I can’t use anymore.
But never committed to wearing you.
Was it that I couldn’t see myself in you?
The right moment in our bodily relationship hadn’t yet come.
It was only a few years ago I felt you’d be a good fit.
Wearing you now, feels like wearing an original Schiaparelli or a Balmain; even though you cost me a few euros and I took you right out of a sad, cluttered basket on the floor of a warehouse in a country a million miles away.
I remember I smiled when I found you,
I remember feeling worried when I took you to a mender to fix your sleeves and make them even.
Worried I’d have to pay too much; that was a commodity back then.
I remember I thought: what’s the point of getting this fixed if I never wear it?
I remember I was reluctant to wear you.
You felt very elegant for my free spirit, my bohemian look.
You see, I didn’t know Schiaparelli then.
I remember I thought you were a bit too red in a time when I was wearing black and khaki.
I remember wearing you in London,
A city nothing like any other I lived in.
There’s something in London’s sky and humid air that makes me want to put you on.
You fit in here. Sometimes more than I do.
You were made for weather like this – I’m certainly not.
I remember the first time I wore you.
The lights were on this time, but still, everyone wanted to touch you.