My image of a postmodern Holly Golightly :
1. One colourful plastic tiara bought from the kids’ department at Accessorize in Marseille
2. One long velvet dress, with a cheap shine, bought from a second hand store in my hometown
3. Snakeskin boots or golden glittery sandals
4. The heroine gives up smoking just before the photo shoot and the cigarette holder remains empty
5. She’s never been married and gives a name to every cat that comes in her way
Audrey isn’t loved in this city. People don’t remember anything about Holly Golightly and they’ve never heard of
I’ve always thought of Holly as a prostitute while reading the book. A prostitute in the noblest and most visceral way, a way that only Audrey could portray.
People hide behind words in this city and they laugh at me and my plastic tiara. They grin and think they know better.
I know I’ve never known anything but my own two legs and bones and chest and ears and the cloth in which I bathe them carefully everyday. Sometimes I cover my body in clothes before going to bed, one last dress-up before sleeping, one more imaginary photo shoot in the dirty mirrors.
If I were a model I’d still prefer these private, reflexive photo shoots to the real ones in which you don’t get to see yourself while being photographed.
What’s truly postmodern about my Holly Golightly is the fact that I don’t wear her as a costume.
I wear myself inside out, with my dreams above my skin and with glitter above my tired feet.
I wear fake pearls and fake velvet.
My tiara doesn’t have any diamonds and I keep myself far away from rainy happy endings.
– pictures made by the wonderful M.M –