My kids are going to grow up thinking they were adopted if for no other reason than I have no photos to prove they weren't. I can never figure out how to extract myself from the moment in order to point a camera in their little faces. I regularly encounter a similar phenomenon during Fashion Week- I find myself glued to the action so much so that I have trouble pausing to comment. But the above number by Tocca stopped me dead in my tracks. Myriad questions flooded my mind:
Where are the pants?
Did my former ballet teacher sneak back stage to subvert this fashion show?
Didn't Black Swan (and its ballerina inspired fashion backlash) happen in 2010?
I have ceased trying to make sense of this calamity. Instead I choose to comfort myself by focusing on this pretty and simple piece from the same "collection" (what one has to do with the other, I have no clue).
I bet in retrospect Emma Fletcher wishes Fashion Week photographers were like me, unable to extract themselves from this moment in order to capture it for posterity.