It would include buttons and snaps and clasps, as in 'keeping my pants (and therefore my dignity) together.' But also duct tape, control-top panty hose, prescription medication, to-do lists...all those trinkets and doo-dads we use to maintain our illusions of safety, security and control.
Although now that I think of it, it doesn't have to only be photos...it could be the actual objects styled into interesting installations. Hmm.
*Wheels Turning*
Regardless, I went to the textile district near the base on Montmartre to putter around in the fabric shops, which are essentially rooms full of rainbows as far as I'm concerned.
It was like visual dessert. Delicious colours and textures galore. Order. Disorder. Weird little mannequins with 'serving suggestions.' The sound of fabric ripping. Price tags with that specifically French style of handwriting. The smell of the leather shop. Swathed street displays that looked like crowds of Muslim women in full (and colourful) burkhas.
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