Couture Commune

Since I was young, the idea of a glam rock commune has been my perpetual mental escape (and this was so many years before I knew anything about Warhol's Factory). With the tension of finding a job/internship for the Spring, coupled with a return to Bloomington from New Orleans, and an ever-growing exhaustion from bad fashion, I'm about to mentally retreat through the winter.

There's always been an abandoned warehouse, dilapidated and worn down, broken up in to living spaces and creation spaces. A place where beautiful and beautifully dressed men and women could live in an aesthetic abode, create art and life, live decadently but sustainable. It's not unusual for me to joke that inside would be a garden and animals, and we'd roll around in the mud wearing Dior, flinging our bodies to the bare and concrete walls. That we'd screen print the walls and ground, throw lavish masquerade balls and themed parties. We could run around in costumes for the sake of wearing them, and appreciating them. It'd be a place where, at the end of the night, we could escape from the pressures of our jobs and peoples of the "real" world and be free to live like in our fantasies.

Communal living is a concept that intrigues me. Living with others has always been inspiring, lively, active, and engaging. Living around others who have an appreciate of art, life, magic, glamour, sensuality, who inspire and perspire to make the world a wonderful and surreal place sounds like heaven. Because face it: while communal living is a great idea, overall environmental hygiene is also important to me. Because, really, who wants to live with slobs who infringe on others' rights to clean space?

For now, I suppose I'll have to alternate between revising and editing cover letters and resumes, and fantasizing about the enormous shoe collection that would exist in such a place...