So here I am again. Thinking. Just working and trying to explain myself how it’s going to be. I may go with someone, but I could also go by my own. Madrid. What about its fashion? Does it represent our country? Even better! Does our country have its own fashion? Do we have our own style? That’s the reason I’m impatiently waiting till the day I’ll go. ‘Cause something’s happening between us –Madrid, fashion and me-. Imean, do you know when you can keep an affair open? So that’s exactly what I’m trying to do –although, obviously, with the Spanish stamp-. ¡Just to keep a stable relationship with it! And fall in love as a well done citizen.
The Spanish fashion week is now deciding the new things to come –and, by the way, kicking what they don’t want anymore- and they’re named, one by one, to create a solid face for each one of them. Yes! We are allowed to ask ourselves which are our expectations about it by asking stuff like:
<<Will there be anything new? Will anyone look special? Will anyone dress in a weird original way? Will we find new arguments to create new trends? >> Nobody knows! And the only single thing we can do until Cibeles Madrid Fashion Week open its doors, is to guess –or, as a desperate option: to pray-.
While I’m writing this I can’t stop asking somebody up there <<¿Does anybody hear me? I need the press credentials… And I need them right now! >> I know I can seem –as the little, pretty, teeny blogger I am…- quiet nervous about getting this. But, in the other hand, I feel anxious thinking of writing about what I see, to report what’s gonna happen in the fashion wave –pretending to climb up, of course-. Anxious to follow the catwalk, to be next to the stage, near –no matter they are good or bad- the trendsetters of the coming season. Thoughts about Ana Lockin undressing me come suddenly to my mind… Leaving me naked for dressing me up again with the amazing luxurious Andrés Sardá’s underwear –or just for removing the oldies Bridget grandma panties-. Mr. Dolphin’s season show has me intrigued by feeding the idea of <<What’s next? >> that rounds my head. Then Ailanto’s foreign colors appear as a rainy rainbow in my mind. That picture is followed by an inside laugh to realize that Vittorio & Lucchino’s collection could perfectly fit my uncles comedy clerk costumes! Then –and it was weird it hasn’t happened before…- I fall in love –again- with the slim fit spanglish designs made by El Ganso –God… what a man!-. While I’m dreaming about my next –possible- British boyfriend –by the way almost all El Ganso models are gay-. I get terrified by the idea of seeing Agatha Ruiz de la Prada’s Show –Oh! I really get sick!-. Why that kind of childish grownup is deserved to be on the top of the Spanish designers? Are circles, hearts, clouds and flowers first row designs? –of course not!-. I’m really depressed about the dismissed opportunities we have had, but it’s just hierarchy stuff! Not every day a girl has the chance of marrying with the Manager Editor of one of the most popular newspaper in the country! – Maybe now you find easier to understand why that amazing original fashionista is where she is, isn’t it?-. Following the line and positioning me forward at the widest depression borderline, Custo appears. Yes! Custo Dalmau! That one whose lack of creativity keeps him engaged with his always the same prints. Well, as hope exists, I’ll still waiting something new by the hand of Amaya Arzuaga and her uncommon volume costumes –original, at least-.
I might go crazy… Maybe this is the right time –or maybe it’s the wrong one-. Maybe this is our opportunity to fulfil the Spanish dream: Become someone in a huge frozen design world. Is this hoping too much? Would I find after all these years that oasis I’ve been waiting, built as an impressive fashion instant in the middle of a hopeless design enviroment? Well, I just want to fall in love as I do with the oldies –and I mean the real oldies-! It’s just that! Giving creativity the opportunity to cross the nowadays prejudice lines.
¿Am I asking too much?