I was sitting in the fifth row, trying to concentrate on what the lecturer was explaining on 19th century art when I heard the girls from the back talk about fashion. This distracted and took me to another cosmos which resulted in experimental poetry (at least that’s what I call it).
The backdrop to this, is about a girl who loves fashion and does not have the resources to venture into the industry. She hears some wanna be fashion divas critic her favorite designer’s new collection while window shopping and this was her response:
“Mantyhose and tight jeans, Tell me what does this mean?” “Mankini or a Murse Which one's worse?” Here I am, hearing this all, Sitting in a corner, pressed onto a wall, Wondering fashion... Is that what it's called? My mother says fashion is a wheel, Rotating archetypes with a six inch heel. Although she'd like to brag, There's more to this than a piece of rag, Cutting edge technology and creativity, Defines fashion's longevity. Caveat! Get the right combination. Lest, you fall into condemnation. Some feel, outfits on the runway appear out of bound, Believe me, that talent is scarcely found. Intricate details hidden within the fabric, Only few million could grasp that tactic. So the next time, you say something mean, for apparel on the mannequin. Imagine how it'll seem, For a true fashion paladin.
I know it needs editing, but like I said, it’s just experimental.
Feel free to comment, critics welcomed!