I would wear this outfit to the library.
This is not a party outfit.
I don’t go to parties and anyways…there’s no party I would go to in this forgotten city.
I asked my father if he stared in the same rude manner at a person being photographed on the street. He said no. He said he would look and see if he can learn something, even though he is not interested in fashion photography. He would be curious.
He’s 54 and has lived in Romania all his life. And yet he does not vulgarly stare. And yet he does not think he knows better when it comes to fashion.
I always think of my mother when I wear these kinds of outfits. My shoes are just like the ones she used to wear when she was my age. She would also wear silky white jumpsuits and plastic or golden earings. She would cut her hair short and wear crazy accessories.
I remember a picture of my mother and father, back in the 80s at the seaside. They were tanned and happy, beautiful and deeply troubled, the only way they could be while living under the communist regime, without being able to understand why it had to be so B A D.
But they knew it, oh…they felt that IT had to stop.
Just like Liviu felt he had to stop in Porumboiu’s movie.
“Trust me, it’s harder to be dead.(…) Come on, Liviu! Don’t you know that fish can’t drown?”
We just need to get to the sea.
pictures by dad