I looked a lot like a Vogue magazine/ Perfect and smooth, they all called me a dream/Flawless and loveless, no intimacy/I only lived to be seen/Not to be touched, too clean…

Judith and Mabel were sitting on their favourite bench, watching the ducks going at it. A group of drakes were pestering a female to mate, whilst nearby, a male that had already successfully copulated with her was preening iridescent feathers with his bright yellow bill.

Judith wiped the spittle that had gathered at the corner of her mouth before letting out a prolonged sigh.

“Why are people suddenly repelled by the skeletal? I haven’t had a date in weeks.”

“It’s all fashion dear. People will alter their preferences on all manner of things, depending on the majority. That is, the young majority.”

“That can’t be right. Beauty is beauty.”

“In prehistoric times, it was the hefty that were revered.”

“Really?”

“In ancient Rome, small penises were thought to be more attractive.”

“Oh me oh my. We are a fickle lot, aren’t we?”

“We certainly are, my love.”

“I think I’d rather like bulbous noses to be the rage next, and pointy heads!”

“The monobrowed haven’t had much of a run.”

“Yes, and the pigeon-toed. They should have their time in the sun.”

“They all will dear. That’s fashion.”

“How nice. I suppose I could be the most sexually attractive thing on the planet soon, if luck smiles upon me.”

“I shouldn’t think so dear.”

However, the very next year, Judith’s distinctive suite of features became the ideal. Young women began to draw on wrinkles, knock out teeth, and sag their skin by attaching weights to their arms, neck, and breast. Judith died between a model and a movie star.

That’s fashion.

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*Title of post taken from Funny Face by Sparks (Mael/Mael). A terrific song.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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