My name is Étienne-Alexandre, I'm 15 years old and I don't care what my mother says: I'm going to have my baby. In this case, my baby is fashion. Who is The Father? The Father is creativity, the pulsing stream of Energy which flows through my every vein and artery and pushes itself ever faster towards my ever more passionate and perverse brain. Within my slowly swelling stomach swims the fœtus of fashion. It is screaming, crying, kicking, clawing. It is desperate to release itself from me, to emerge from between these stubborn trunks of these legs of mine and be born into a world of near-infinite pain and suffering.

In a world where one child dies every minute from poverty-related disease, crime or famine, Fashion is the last outpost of self-expression available to all of humankind. From the dumpsters of Deli to the condominiums of California. Everyone wears styles their look. Malawian orphan girls rearranging their sun-dried hair so as to be more readily accepted into their white adoptive home; New York street-walker girls rearranging their tights so as to more readily accept into them their latest client. Yes, indeed, no matter his origin, each human has his fashion. His statement. His self. He may wear it on his back for all to see.

We are all transient images flitting across the veilèd eyelids of the universal æther, to more poetically paraphrase the conclusions drawn by the Franco-Belgian scientist Démarq in 1890. Thus must we make use of our transience to beautify our world and ourselves. Pleasure is the mechanism by which this is achieved. Wear, then, what makes you feel overcome with pleasure, heady with delight. Surely therein you will find the truth: PLEASURE MAKES YOU BEAUTIFUL.

Apart from fashion and philosophy, in my spare time I enjoy butchery, babysitting, creative masturbation, restoring 18th Century Viennese four-poster beds and I work nine to five in McDonald's. I'm lovin' it.

My URL :: http://lookbook.nu/babysitter