Under the golden dome of an ancient temple, Where dreams are adorned with divine fabrics, A ballet of shadows and lights awakens, The curtain rises on a hymn to textiles.
With a white thread, the past whispers to the lapels, A masculine coat, austere and sculptural, Opens in cadence on the velvet of a dream, A dress undressed, draped in mystery.
The colors rise like fiery notes, Burnt orange, deep purple, eternal black, The silhouettes soar, chiseled and free, Capelines hemmed with a thread of desire. Jackets curl up in protective cocoons, While belts embrace the waist, Closing with one gesture the promise of the evening, Opening with another on a shiver of audacity.
Sharpened legs, undone buttons, Freedom runs under the caressing fabric.The wind clings to ethereal blouses, the silks whisper forgotten stories, the tips stretch, the seams sing, a fabric opera, an ode to the ephemeral.