Black magic for white poetry of burning metal, and like a magnetic transgression, the man from Castille had enriched Parisian fashion with feminine sculptures in polyethylene and metal?

His sewing is chemical and fantastic, it was phenomenal, but also pheromonal at the sight of his dresses surges an ocean of oxytocin .

I remember; he was there kneeling in that human distress of the true creators, and you could feel the passionate fervor in his black eyes. He would pull his hands back behind his back to show that he was the slave and not the master of his sewing. He leaned his head against the bottom of the mannequin’s throat, and on his side he clipped a metal ring like a child adoring the Madonna as a devotee, receiving the host of notoriety.

The sun is down. Now, the long grass sways languidly in the evening wind at the edge of the Iroise sea, the bird has flown away from this grey granite stone to find some warm nooks and crannies to nestle in.

Listen, here is the hour, here is the dreaded moment for you, don’t you feel a flood of strange sensations on your soul, forerunners of a rougher power that comes to take you in the spray of the setting sun of the pink granite coast. Have a good trip my friend, go and join all your brothers, Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Givenchy, and many others… to finally talk about real fashion and real creation.

For Paco Rabanne who died today on 03/02/2023