As an arrangement of colours: the reds moving through to pure oranges, intensifying even more in the flesh tones up to the chromes, passing into the pinks and marrying with the olive and Veronese greens. As an impressionist arrangement of colours, I’ve never devised anything better JAMW
The waiting game / Is not the name of the rain // If the house is aflush in aflame /// The speed of light //// Is not the flight of the kite ///// If the house is asound asleep in the night ////// The sit tight, and hold steady /////// Is not the change of the breezy and ready //////// If the house is awash in awhale of confetti 🎉
Subjects of heavenly beauty / Make objects of pure desire // Idle hands and haste /// Are the devil’s elegant play //// Affluence summons the lift /// The goddess takes the stairs // In the garden of original feather / There isn’t even a fear
The fulcrum of fashion flourishes the future in finesse forever. It fucks your eyes into flight but forgets you fast in its fickle and finicky fancy. Its fundamental freedom is a firm, forceful, and fountainous factor in its fleecing fee. Fashion is the first F in feel and the final F of faith in the fistcuff of fear itself Lanvin
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