Sartorialist Pick Of The Day

 

Power Struggle, Beauty and I: The Sartorialist

The Parisian note, of what I deemed us to be, um I mean enjoyment of fine fabrics and the aesthetic present when we begin to care each other, another. The nude hue of your heels begged for my attention, because the eagerness in visibility suffers from need and satisfaction. The need to satisfy, that is exactly what we all succumb to, well you and I for this particular moment. The more and more I indulge in you, the more I notice that your ensemble screams recluse, recluse wool, the mute fabric of the community of textures that merge to create a palette of familiar taste. The blazer knows what it holds inside, but it knows not how to inquire on anything else besides what you ask  the piece to contain. A brief introduction to the white blouse under the brief anecdote that is the knit sweater.  Who has the voice of speech in your attire? I guess you do. Your beauty measures the lecture of fabrication you allow society to reach, but are you really beautiful or just you. Just you, we ask that you acknowledge your beauty, but before you knew you were an object of beauty, a figure of visually stimulating interest, you were just you. Beauty was never created as a tool of description but a figment of amusement. I really hope you save me in Paris…save me a seat…

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