White lace is everywhere I look,DV
A sojourn in Bangkok, where sweltering heat has all but engulfed me, frying my fingers as they hit the keyboard, making the pavements sparkle with mirage and giving my skin a post-sauna glow. But there’s one bright oasis in the heat: white lace.
White lace is everywhere I look, on countless hangers in the weekend market, clothing the delicate framed Thai girls in diaphanous tops, and the tourists in little shorts. I’ve succumbed to the temptation and bought lace by the armful. It’s addictive.
Its the effect of delicateness thats required, not the realityDV
Lace gives the promise of purity and sweetness. Its very fragility infers femininity by proxy. Wilting on the subway, squashed against your neighbour, pushing through crowds of tourists on your way to work or college, you may not feel like a fragrant, hothouse flower, but you can pretend to be one.
What better way to disarm them at a meeting or presentation. In moderation, perhaps, at work: think detail on a shirt or skirt, rather than the full meet-me-in-the-boudoir.
With white lace: think detail, rather than the full meet-me-in-the-boudoir…
Its the effect of delicateness thats required, not the reality, for despite the poetic forays of ancient scribes, we are no longer frail and in need of careful handling, we are a coalition of complimentary forces.
We are amazons and we make our own rules.
Her body is not so white asanemony petals nor so smooth—norso remote a thing. It is a fieldof the wild carrot takingthe field by force; the grassdoes not raise above it.Queen Anne’s Lace By William Carlos Williams
Photograph – Instagram: @dear_velvet