Peter’s Crazy Aunt #8: Some Dancing to Remember

Edward G. Nilges, “State of Peter’s Crazy Aunt as of 30 Nov 2010″, acrylic on canvas, 20×30”

Edward G. Nilges, “State of Peter’s Crazy Aunt as of 30 Nov 2010″, acrylic on canvas modified with Gimp, 20×30”

Her mind is definitely twisted
She’s got the “Mercedes-Benz”
She got a lot of pretty pretty boys
Who she calls friends
Seem them dance in the courtyard
Sweet summer sweat
Some dancing to remember
Some dancing to forget

The Eagles, Hotel California

The wash chiaroscuro is finished: the grisaille has been started.

The shoulder further away from the viewer needs to be a veritable cascade of light going down from where it hits her hair.

Her hair is a memory of an experiment with dreadlocks.

There is a lot going on on her tummy and legs.

Above all, she dresses not to entice nor entrap but for comfort and to survive with part time work as a model. Part of my inspiration is passing through Hong Kong’s International Financial Centre on the way to work, and working to survive as a film extra.

IFC is often the locus of model shoots especially in the small hours of the morning, and sometimes one sees positive troupes or herds or flocks of models, smashingly dressed at their own expense, clomping towards an assignment. This, and working recently as an extra where we had to look much more fabulous than real airline passengers, but played real airline passengers, brings to my attention the reality, oh the humanity, of fashion models.

Indeed, I have a vision of a near-future society in which the actual wealthy become so twisted in their souls that, in a Picture of Dorian Gray, they are all ugly, so they hire fashion models, working at minimum wage, to represent them. For to me the pictures of fabulous people one sees all over Hong Kong are no longer pictures of fabulous wealthy people, but of people, working for next to nothing as fashion models and English teachers simultaneously, loaned the expensive clothes, and, as it were, warriors for the working day.

I need only to put on my little bespoke Hong Kong suit to become the glass of fashion, like Leonard di Caprio in Titanic. It is all surface.

There is, perhaps, a one to one correspondence between the body and the soul.

She has two hands. One graceful, on the Happy Sun Dress. One absurdly clumsy, the problem being a monster thumb. This shall get the Pentimento treatment.

What started as a simple neckerchief reminded a serious Fashionista of my acquaintance of Lanvin jewelry. So I looked at Lanvin’s baubles. My word. Big and clunky seems to be the rage.

Basically, women are sold clothes with less fabric than men because this cuts costs. Men insist on clothes that more than cover their bodies, which are more twisted and stunted by industrial and office life: they got de board shorts, absurdly long, they got de Brooks Brothers shirts with the sleeve over the base of de hand.

Whereas women are forever pulling down the shirt that reveals. They didn’t mean to wear it to entice, they have instead been told that it is fashionable, just as I am (at times literally, as in Kailua Kona) told to lose the Eighties running shorts and get board shorts.

In the case of Peter’s Crazy Aunt, she figures that the Knucklehead top is to be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, since it settles the question of what shall be revealed once and for all, and comfortably. Plus it’s hot outside the terminal…very hot. For the overly cool plane she has any number of layers in that magic bag.

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