Who Are You?

Now darling, you turn, hover for a moment, then fly off...but just once. She's MAGnifique and she wears it well, brilliant but uncomfortable. You put her wings too high, lower them...women re-imagined for the nuclear age. You don't just create, you galvanize, and I'm galvanized...I also have GREAT plans.

AND THEN THERE WAS A HANDSOME PRINCE

He doesn't eat and he doesn't sleep because of THAT GIRL. His happiness depends on the twirling of her hair.

AND THEN THERE WAS HER

Now? Who am I? When I was young I was very ugly. A dentist wanted two thousand dollars to fix my teeth. That was too much so I leave my mouth open like Pat. Pat was my rabbit. He died. You want to know who I am? Sometimes I wonder myself. People take my picture. People take my picture every day, and every time they take my picture there's a little less of me left. So what will be left of me in the end? I'd like to know. It's a game about fame, just a game others help me play, help me WIN...a masquerade. I wouldn't trade places with anyone.

YANKEE DOODLE DANDY

The cutie didn't say much, just nonsense...it's how she is, but the surface IS reality too. If she's hiding behind a mask pull it off. What do you find? Just another mask, and another. For me THAT GIRL doesn't even exist. All those girls are unhappy. You'll find the truth beneath the make up, just a young lady in Texas...a girl who married a PRINCE. You have to be careful with princes, but she was a real PRINCESS.

YOUR LIFE IS A COSTUME BALL

"You're still the little girl from Brooklyn." Fashion was once for the rich but now its just for teenagers...androgynous little red riding hoods and itty bitty women. Fashion is about money and illusion, to sell and dupe people, it is powerful magic...a mirror of fantasies. Are you scared? NO. I must confess that when I look back on my life I see one dress...one dress of shirred fabric with little sky blue ruffles. It was charming. People watch movies too closely, you know.

YOU'RE MODELS! WALK LIKE STARS! LIKE CATS!

One two three, it's ME! Personal diary, today I learned one expression, one proverb, and three new words. I did fine on TV. It was easy. What else is new? I learned a French dance, "paso doblo". This morning, I bathed and put on perfume. It's perfect. I smell like chocolate all over. I read in the paper that the demands of fashion are more rigorous than those of philisophy. 

SILENCE

(take one) Very calmly, ready? Once you're queen you'll never need to walk. FETISHISM, MUTILATION, SUFFERING. Fashion in a nutshell. The Erotic nature of the sport revealed...fashion is, above all, EROTIC. DIVINE. Tell me, who creates fashion?

(take two) Ladies, act like we're not here. This is merely an illusion. Did you find out who I am? YES. The lunarian type. A large, pale, round face with soft cheeks, and round, blue, prominent eyes. Your expression, at first glance indecisive, reveals frequent flashes of intelligence. Your turned up nose denotes falsity, vanity, extravagance and fickleness. You walk like a sailor. Everything means SOMETHING and you're always posing.

MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?

What plant would you like to be? What work of art? Historic figure? Inferiority and castration complexes...both characteristics of narcissism, frigidity, and fear of gaining weight. Spinach and carrots? ROCKETS! Most complexes resolve themselves on their own as sublimation takes full effect. Like fashion. Fashion endures because it changes. What doesn't change dies. What's NOT crazy about you? It's stupid putting on make up, dressing up, staring in the mirror. They play with you like you're a doll. FINE. You're a doll. It's still stupid. Stare in the mirror all day and you'll become a monster. 

ARREST THIS MAN, HE'S CRAZY

Is your face round? Everything round is beautiful. Rearrange the lights and shadows yourself. You have NO idea how important your expression is. Be careful, your eyes speak VOLUMES. In just a wink they've said it all. Goodbye, razor.

WE ENTER AND EXIT HERE

March two three four, march two three four. Her eyes should go BEEP BEEP. She's a rocket that goes BEEP BEEP. Goodbye, rocket...BEEP BEEP. Your life is a masquerade. You have no heart, you are a pain in the ass and you failed every test but I love you and always have. You have a telegram, from the Prince of Solitude. 

YOGA FOR EVERYONE BEEP BEEP.

(images from google)