“I don’t always feel like getting dressed, sometimes I just want to cover up. Not because I’m cold, but just in case. One more year, I let Flor and Chloe dress me; another-provisional-version-of-myself. I couldn’t stop wondering if someone might recognise me. A mix between Tonya Harding and her mum. It wasn’t a costume, but close. A circle of friends outside the club. The sequin I found in my pocket weeks later. In the end I’ll wear the look that was Adela’s, that was Lucía’s, that was María’s, that was Erika’s. Nothing is fully decided. One held her coat shut from the inside with one hand, unknowingly protecting herself. On the ground, a half-finished pompom. She left barefoot, couldn’t find her shoes. Another shed layers without looking. ⋆ The truth is, there are clothes I can’t remember if they’re mine or if they simply stayed with me. If I hold onto them it’s for what remains, not on me, but inside. I believe memories are also built in layers:
C / F / V / M / P / J / N / J / A / L / C / A / C / A / M / P / J / V / M / G / L / A / E / A / E / M.
This is for you, for me, for us. When your glitter transfers from your cheek to mine as we take a selfie. When you hold her skirt so it doesn’t catch under the wheels of a scooter, as if holding the fabric were also holding the moment. When someone paints lipstick on your lips without warning. And for everything we can no longer give back.”
⋆ These could be memories, or premonitions, framed within Aurembiaix Collection 4.
