Literally the word means the backstage behind the scenes of a stage. The few square meters, closed to the public, whose life the show takes glossy, perfect and surreal soon to be consumed between the eyes and the applause of the crowd. A few square meters where the noise of the dryer is mixed with the smell of lacquer, where the notes of the ipod join the scent of coffee. The round brushes, slip on soft hair, creating and destroying hairstyles and trends. The brush, dipped in powder, carve faces on perfect cheekbones. The bottles of water damage support to the models, whose tired eyes tell another chapter in this story called fashion. The clothes quietly assisting this show: positioned on the stand, including hangers and signs, such as sheet music for a musician, the rhythm dell'incedere dei tacchi sulla passerella. I flash delle macchine fotografiche, le telecamere, i microfoni, le voci dei giornalisti popolano i pochi centimetri rimasti privi di vita. Gli ordini dello stilista, e dei suoi assitenti, danno un ordine a questo caos, o almeno ci provano. In questi pochi metri quadri si respira impegno, aspettative e paura. Si respira umanità ed imperfezione. Il lavoro che si nasconde dietro le pieghe di un vestito. La passione che anima le mani su un foglio bianco. In assoluto l'aria più affascinate e viva di questa settimana.
Literally the word "backstage" means "in the wings". Few square meters, precluded to the public, when the show comes to life, glossy, perfect, surreal, which will take place in a minute among the sights and the applause of the crowd. Just a few square meters where the sound of the hair drier is mixed with the smell of the hairspray, where the notes of the ipod are blended with the coffee aroma. The brushes go through smooth hair, creating and destroying hairstyle and trends. The powder brushes engrave the cheekbones of perfect faces. The water bottles support the models, whose tired eyes are telling another chapter of this book called "fashion". The dresses watch, silently, this show: set on the stands, among hangers and notices that, like the score of a musician, will beat time of the heel walking on the runway. The flash of the cameras, the videocameras, the microphones, the voice of the journalists populate the few centimeters still lacking life. The orders of the designer, and of the assistants, will give order to this chaos, or at least they'll try to. In this few square meters you can feel dedication, expectations, fear. Humanity and imperfection. The work hidden among the pleats of a dress. The passion that liven a blank sheet. Absolutely the most fascinating, and human, atmosphere of this fashion week.
Ringrazio di cuore Frankie Morello per avermi dato la possibilità di respirarne un po'.... Thanks to Frankie Morello for giving me the chance to be there.
translation of the texts Christine Martucci.
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