Once upon a time, not very far from here there lived a
beautiful blonde girl. Her clothes and
accessories were her most precious possessions.
She worked hard and saved for her designer labels and cherished the
quality of her fabulous garments. She learned how to look after them,
lovingly laundering, darning and mending them.
Her wardrobe was a gradually expanding, constantly evolving
enterprise. She had her own style,
bought new and vintage but always quality.
Nearly every piece or garment represented a memory, every one of them
special.
One day, whilst doing her favourite thing, re-arranging and
sorting her dresses, handbags and shoes, she lingered momentarily over her
mother’s favourite dress. She then moved further through her wardrobe, colour
co-ordination her accessories as she went.
She felt a cool breeze across her face.
Was she mistaken? There appeared
to be a draught coming from the very back of the wardrobe. She moved forward into the wardrobe pushing
past the silk, wool and cashmere garments and felt colder and colder. Her Vivienne Westwood pumps started to crunch
on crisp, newly settled snow.
As she made her way out from the rails of clothes she could
see the soft glow of a lamp post in the distance. She found herself uncontrollably drawn
towards it.
By the time she reached the lamp post her fingers had started
to numb and she wished she had picked up her kid skin gloves from her wardrobe.
“She’s been waiting for you!” came a slurred but friendly
voice. She turned to see a tiny Satyr stumbling around on his little hoofs,
trying to keep his balance by erratically wafting his tail around. The sweat
smell of Malibu on his breath and the half empty bottle, nestled in the snow
provided the explanation for his party eyes.
“She’s is expecting you!” he echoed. “The Grand Fashion Witch
requests an audience with you!”
Beyond her sight she heard the ever loudening sound of sleigh
bells. They came to an abrupt stop and
before her sat the cold, stern face of The Fashion Witch.
“I come to offer you cheap fashion” cried the witch. “For the price of one of your garments I can
give you a whole season’s wardrobe!
“But how can this be possible?!” exclaimed the blonde. “I save for weeks to buy a new piece of
clothing to add to my wardrobe.”
“Oh stupid child” the witch retorts “Why should you wish to
add to your wardrobe? Just buy cheap and you can have a completely new one every
season.”
“But how is this possible?” repeated the blonde.
The Witch threw back her head with a haughty laugh! “It’s
possible child because we make it possible. We keep slaves in faraway lands to
weave inferior cloth. Then small children sew them into high fashion garments guaranteed
to last for at least the occasion they were bought for!
These children work relentlessly for a bowl
of rice a day and sleep underneath their sewing machines. And if the child should become ill or dies,
no problem, we replace it with another one!”
“But this sounds immoral!” says the blonde.
“Foolish incoherent girl” retorts the witch, “these are the
very wheels that make the world of fashion turn!”
“But wouldn’t it be better” replied the blonde “to make good
quality clothes that will last? I have
some that were passed to me from my mother and I treasure them. And then the people who make them could be
paid a decent living wage!"
“Insolent, silly blonde half-ling" chided the witch “don’t try to
change things; this is how the world works! I can see I’m wasting my time
here!!” and with that the witch cracked
her whip and the sleigh sped off.
The satyr’s glazed eyes stared at the girl “You are very brave to make a stand against the fashion witch!”
The blonde turned and retraced her footsteps in the
snow. Soon she found herself back in the
comfort of her wardrobe. She began to
feel the softness of the silk, wool and linen. As she ventured further she
could smell the comforting scent of her mother’s perfume on her most coveted
garments. She was home.
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