L'Amour, la mort, les fringues
They stick to our skin and soul, our clothes. We believe we buy them, they own us. Warning ! these rags are traitors: far from dressing us they expose our complexes, our moods ... Clinging to their hangers, to our memories too, they exercise an underhand dictatorship. Snuggled up, huddled together, they build a bulwark against oblivion in our closets. Often stained for eternity with ink or redcurrant, impregnated with perfume, tears sometimes, piled up or messed up on our shelves, they remain forever linked to the happy or unhappy chapters of our life. It is through the evocation of their wardrobe that Gigi, Eve, Marie, Nora, Françoise, Amanda, Lisa and the others evoke the past, missed appointments and those that changed their lives, the joys and childhood revolts, giggles, disappointments, dramas, parties and hopes too…
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