Romantic, gothic dresses from the Victorian Era; like a Valentino wedding dress yellowed with age, the dress fitted like a corset around the perfect mannequin. Eyes wound around and around the twirls and contours of the dress; despite the intricate details and patterns, my eyes followed the spiral, fulfilling the perfect silhouette. The most beautiful dress, that I would never wear, of imagination stood in the closed store. A dress meant to be locked in time, perfectly untouched. Never opened like Pandora’s Box.
The store’s walls are a maroon red. The ceiling, a tapered black cloth that limps loosely as dangling masks decorate the fixture in the most eerie manner. Oil brushes, palettes and sketches are plastered to the wall, hanging amongst dark nature. Always closed, the only notice is a post-it with a phone number:
The designer is everything you would imagine him to be; only he is not a she. The long, shaggy and unwashed hair that fell over the large eyes held up by dark eye circles is only the beginning. Black clothing, secluded corner of the store, and calmly sketching away as if he’s only here because of extra time. The only thing you never imagined him to be was funny, talkative and sociable. You would never speak first, but the rare occasion that the locked wonderland is now open, your mouth moves non-stop.
Looking up, you see the delicate light fixture. Bear, rabbit, fox and a mannequin’s hand, a group of masks that have no correlation is the perfect design. Your finger poises before letting the shutter snap, and you swear, as you take the photo, the fox’s face moves. No doubt –
You are in a dark wonderland.
click for the story behind the story:
inspired by a store in TST and the artist