“Born A Nervous Breakdown” From the beginning: you were different Outcast from society. Restrained from the freedom of mistakes Bypassing millennial enrichment. Its effect underestimated. Distracted by couturier talent Under the Dior armour: your feelings masked. You see beyond the creative norm: yet are blind to realism Outside your creative capacity you struggle to exist, Leaving your soul decaying. Designing your fashions like the reality you saw Rich with black.
Fashion your domain Fame your virtue Master of the woman’s body. Creating your own lines to colour within. Success in your own hands lead a glimmer of hope Exhibited by colour adorned collections. A desire to shape the modern woman Emerging ready to wear, ready for life. A tapestry of art and fashion unveiled your niche Piet Mondrian the inspiration to your first master piece. For the moment the crumbling of your soul lay dormant
Cracks surface in your shell: you stand intoxicated by meaningless fog. Drawn to the escapism drugs offer Left longing for more The shoulder you rely on slipping. Withdrawn and ignorant to what you already possess Suffocated in a world watching everyone breathe. “Fame is the dazzling mourning of happiness”- Pierre Berge If fame reflects success was your happiness the sacrifice? Your intensions were strong Women attained power Your name lives on, Yves Saint Laurent.