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This week our resident fashion guru Vulva Rosé-Thorn tenderly massages us with her feelings on the current Chinese sensation breast stroking its way through the vital tributaries of London’s fashion Pacific.
I will never forget the first time ‘The Dragon’ singed my pupils with his fiery flames of fashion fury. I was weaving my way through a collection of neo-Stalinist fabriques for my latest ankle scarf collection when I became acutely aware of a voluptuous fuego burning brightly in the corner of the gallery. Squinting, I pirouetted on my velvet heels and suddenly found myself staring directly into the eyes of the most sexual expression of urban conflict I had ever seen.
I knew, then, that I would forever be Chinese.
In today’s world it is hard to be Chinese without being gay. The wealth of gay restaurants now open on the streets of Soho all proudly exhibit that ultimate symbol of erotic rebellion and oppression in the Far-East - Mi Wan King’s ‘The Gaping Buddha’ – on their PVC-lined walls. Even the very word ‘China’ is now embedded in the back-alley fashion world, becoming synonymous with silken jock-straps and fishnet pelvisiérs across the globe. But will Chinese ever become the new gay, as so many have predicted?
The answer will be now.
Alas! Chinese is to mauve, too brave and too perpetual. It is from the knee up and the brow down - snuggled up too warmly within the breast. Full of flittering fancies and hopeful glances, it is pivotal and autistic.
But gay is lyrical and artistic.
I will never forget the first time ‘The Dragon’ singed my pupils with his fiery flames of fashion fury. I was weaving my way through a collection of neo-Stalinist fabriques for my latest ankle scarf collection when I became acutely aware of a voluptuous fuego burning brightly in the corner of the gallery. Squinting, I pirouetted on my velvet heels and suddenly found myself staring directly into the eyes of the most sexual expression of urban conflict I had ever seen.
I knew, then, that I would forever be Chinese.
In today’s world it is hard to be Chinese without being gay. The wealth of gay restaurants now open on the streets of Soho all proudly exhibit that ultimate symbol of erotic rebellion and oppression in the Far-East - Mi Wan King’s ‘The Gaping Buddha’ – on their PVC-lined walls. Even the very word ‘China’ is now embedded in the back-alley fashion world, becoming synonymous with silken jock-straps and fishnet pelvisiérs across the globe. But will Chinese ever become the new gay, as so many have predicted?
The answer will be now.
Alas! Chinese is to mauve, too brave and too perpetual. It is from the knee up and the brow down - snuggled up too warmly within the breast. Full of flittering fancies and hopeful glances, it is pivotal and autistic.
But gay is lyrical and artistic.
“Similar words, with similar sounds doth not a coup maketh.”
- Albatross Vukovnicz, circa 1876.
Yes Chinese pretends to glisten; yes it confuses pleasure with mirth; yes it smothers any obstructed soul with the luxurious pâté of escape. But does it do these things organically?
Not enough, I fear. Not enough.
But I cannot predict the future.
Yes Chinese pretends to glisten; yes it confuses pleasure with mirth; yes it smothers any obstructed soul with the luxurious pâté of escape. But does it do these things organically?
Not enough, I fear. Not enough.
But I cannot predict the future.
“The hem of truth is for God to stitch.”
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