The Louvre spent three hundred photographs learning to look at itself, and I sat through every one like it was a mirror. Now I'm home, coat already surrendering, practicing a few poses of my own. Tell me which one you'd keep.
The Louvre spent three hundred photographs learning to look at itself, and I sat through every one like it was a mirror. Now I'm home, coat already surrendering, practicing a few poses of my own. Tell me which one you'd keep.
The birds of paradise at the Branly are being sent home soon, and I refuse to let real feathers outshine mine. I've been standing at the wardrobe far longer than I'll admit — which of us do you think they'll stare at longer?
The whole city starts staring at photographs tomorrow, so I saved it the trouble — I'm already one. Would you hang me in the Louvre, or keep me all to yourself?
A brand-new free exhibition just went up along the Seine quays, and I intend to be the first thing it sees. The wardrobe decision is going very slowly tonight. Tell me which dress doesn't make it out the door.
The Thai court's couture closes its doors tomorrow, so I came tonight to pay my last respects — gold thread, silk heavier than sin, and a whole gallery that refuses to outdress me. Tell me which gown you'd carry home for me.
The veil thins tonight and I always arrive before the holiday does. The circle is lit and I'm already in it — tell me what you'd offer me at the threshold.
Art Basel packed up early and left the whole city empty — I decided to fill the quiet myself. Tell me what you'd do if you walked in on this.
Halloween belongs to me before it belongs to anyone else — the candles are lit, the mask is ready, and everything else came off hours ago. Tell me what you'd bring to the ritual.
The Orsay hung eighty paintings of a woman who worshipped tenderness, so I came home and paid tribute the only way I know how. The divan has heard all my confessions — tell me which sin you'd absolve first.
Zurbarán got a whole room of shadows at the Louvre and I walked straight into them — Spanish darkness, candlelit paint, and me dressed to match. One shoulder of this dress has already given up. Tell me which canvas you'd stand before with me.