Dancing when the evening fell

Thanks to all who were so kind and sweet about the last post.
It's a sad truth, isn't it?

Which I suppose, in this truth, lies one of those tensions in fashion. The tension between wanting something so desirable - wanting to drape yourself in those gorgeous Rodarte gowns, or shaping up in stark Junya Watanabe, or playing fairy with Chisato Tsumori - when we feel so incomporably dirty and ugly and insignificant.

Or at a more local level, why keep getting photographed when you feel so ugly? I used to shy away from them. But somehow not anymore, a sort of liberation that came from extreme vanity. It's strange eh, that funny dynamic between narcissism and insecurity

How can we be so confident? Then so shy? So high, then so low? So lovely, then so loathesome?

Paramore asked, Why do we like to hurt so much?

I ask the same question.