Culture

About fanfiction

Last week, one of my friends asked me to write a short text for her website. She wanted it to be some kind of fanfiction about the impressionist writer Rainer Maria Rilke. Well, she didn’t actually employ the word “fanfiction”, but she wanted me to invent a story about why the writer had spent a part of his life in Paris, mentioning, that it hadn’t necessarily need to be true – so basically fanfiction.

It’s very funny how things happen in life. Only a couple of days before, I had read an article about students being much more into literature than their teachers would have expected. They invent alternative story-endings, or add some funny details to their beloved book or movie characters lives, letting them experience great adventures and unexpected relationships. Although the author of the original book might not be too happy about the fan’s rich and wild imagination, I think that fanfiction is a very interesting and delightful way of interpreting a story. And in some cases, it even gives space to new productions, like Snow White as a horror movie. Well, this is more of a reinterpretation than fanfiction, but I think that it’s pretty close, though.

While reading the article, I was already thinking about what I would do to the characters of Harry Potter. And since the book is so incredibly detailed, I found it quite hard to imagine anything which still would make sense to the book, but be totally new to the story. Also, I’m respecting my childhood heroes way too much to imagine them in a threesome or anything of this kind. (According to the article, people’s imagination is endless and touches all areas.) And so I came to the conclusion, that I would probably never write anything which can be categorized as fanfiction. Despite of all that, I surprisingly did, just a few days later, on the request of my friend. And it was fun! And since I had to do some research as well, like finding out more about Rilke’s biography, learning more about historic and cultural events which were important at that time, I actually upgraded my general knowledge.

And le voilà the text I finally wrote:

The Story of a Youth to Discover Paris

“Why Paris of all cities? That’s a good question.

It mostly was thanks to my friend Auguste Rodin, who had had a big influence on me taking this decision, after all, it was him who had offered me the position as his secretary. I could never have rejected such an offer, particularly as I have always been a great admirer of his artwork. And of course, Paris is a very scenic city, considerably more charming than London, which seems to be a little too gloomy for my taste. And considering that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle probably found the inspiration for The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes in current events, then I’m feeling a little uneasy about England. Besides, the weather there seems to dampen one’s mood and to make one miserable. I  do not want to deny at all that the English culture has its appeal and that it produced quite a few great and brilliant authors and artists, let’s just name Charles Dickens or William Turner. But it seems as if Paris was more pleasant after all.

I find it especially interesting that the Russian culture, which has always aroused my enthusiasm, has been following the French example. Who knows, if my friend hadn’t made this offer, I maybe would have traveled to Russia first. I think it’s a fascinating country.

Paris isn’t any less splendid, of course. Art and beauty are always celebrated there, even in everyday’s life. Just think of Parisian fashion! This makes me think of how impassioned my mother used to talk about French couture. From my very early age, she tried to share her love for French fashion with me. I suppose, and Sigmund Freud would certainly agree, that the enchantment my mother felt for the French style has left its mark on me in a manner that it explains my curiosity for Paris. Besides, I’m convinced that there’s almost no other city which could be more suitable for an artist. Magnificent beauty always surrounds you, everything is incredibly picturesque. Not to mention the remarkable architecture. And the gardens! They’re just a true paradise. If you have ever been to the Jardin du Luxembourg or the Jardin des Plantes, you know what I’m talking about. It’s almost impossible not to find any inspiration in those places and not to be impressed by Paris.”

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Paris

Autumn in Paris

Now that November arrived, it already becomes less easy to find eccentrically or very well dressed people in Paris, mostly because they are all covered in black winter coats. That’s something very Parisian, by the way. As soon as summer is over, people change their (sometimes overly) coloured clothes against much darker items. Especially when it starts raining, the national grief about the end of those two weeks of summer, which nature gives to Paris every year, can be particularly well observed. There is no single umbrella which isn’t black, except the transparent ones which mark a new trend, and except the funny umbrellas tourists use when they’re not wearing one of those bin-bag-like raincoats. And it’s not only the dark colours which make the city look like a grieving widow, but people suddenly also start to walk with their heads down, and not only when it’s raining. And besides of being very annoying, making a slalom run through all those people who might or might not bump into you can also be very entertaining. What I personally also find very funny is when people approach till a few centimetres close until they finally see your feet and stop walking. The look they give you then, as if you were Albus Dumbledore who just appeared out of nowhere, is priceless. I have to admit that I sometimes force this situation, just for my own amusement.
But I’m getting carried away, because I actually would like to present you two styles which I like a lot.
On the first picture, you see a very good friend of mine who is wearing a cool combination of jeans and leather. Black leather jackets by the way happen to be of my favourite items, amongst others. Except for very few people, they immediately give you the coolness of James Dean. And even dorky girls like me suddenly look like some hot biker chick that could also be in some calendar for guys (except that we keep our t-shirts on, and also our pants). Usually, people combine leather jackets with jeans. My friend also does that, but she’s wearing a jeans shirt. And you don’t see that very often. That’s why I like her look.
The second picture was taken in the Marais. This girl walked by and it was a coincidence that I noticed her amazing coat. So I, crazy person as I am, started running after her, telling her to wait in French. When I finally reached her, I found out that she was American and that she wasn’t afraid of me, but that she just didn’t speak French. She also told me that she had made the coat herself.
I just love the simple elegancy of her outfit and the little golden details on her shoes and her bag that match perfectly. I’m still happy about having run after her.

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Fashion

PS Paris Fashion Week

Since I kind of announced it in y last post, I think I should actually share the few pictures I did mention. So here they are: One picture showing André Leon Talley after the show of Maison Rabih Kayrouz, and three more pictures of bloggers whose style I highly appreciate.

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Fashion

Paris Fashion Week – thoughts & weird situations

Before you start reading my today’s article, you should be aware that this one might contain a lot more criticism than everything that I’ve posted before. After having read it, you might even say that this is a text of some frustrated wannabe girl, and maybe that’s even right, but I still want to underline that what I’m writing is nothing more than my personal opinion and that I’m not trying to discredit anybody or anything. But mimosas should abstain.

It’s the climax of Paris Fashion Week and it feels as if people go crazier than the days before. Having received a last minute invitation to a runway show today, I was rather looking forward to it and I even got up unusually early for a Saturday, which means 11 am. The show was scheduled for 12:30 at Place de la Concorde, and although I wanted to be there earlier, I was running late because I hadn’t been able to decide what to wear earlier this morning and so I had to change at least three times before I was finally ready to leave my apartment. (The fact that I changed a several times probably seems unnecessary, but you will shortly see that it’s actually important for my story.)
I arrived at Concorde slightly after 12:30 and went straight to the building where the runway show took place. Unfortunately, the only impression I got from the show was an incredibly huge crowd. I’m still wondering how I managed to get in this place which was packed with people. I think there were about 200, maybe even 300 people in a room where only half of this number would have been comfortable. Of course, every single person was there on invitation and I should also add that it was more than just a few people who left before even trying to get in, just because of the sight of the enormous crowd who was already inside. Anyway, since I got up early just to go to that show, I was determined to stay and to get in, and so I did. And there were so many people. I’m really tall and I was also wearing heels, but still, I saw nothing except rows and rows of heads in this ocean of people. And it was a completely useless attempt only to try to get some pictures – the runway seemed to be way too far away and completely out of reach. I was lucky though. I was standing next to the DJ set and the music was great.
Since I was only able to catch a few glimpses on the models, I was mostly people watching, which was very enjoyable. There was a very particular crowd where any kind of character or style was represented. There were the nouveau riches with injected lips, who had just arrived from Monaco or Biarritz. Then there were people from Germany or Switzerland who were dressed in very casual sports trousers, wearing white trainers and looking as if they wanted to head to the gym right after the show. There were also girls who made it quite obvious that they wanted to become the next fashion icon; tourists who just stopped by right in the middle of their shopping tour in Paris and who had probably received their invitations by pure coincidence. And of course, there were bloggers, many, many of them. It’s funny that it didn’t strike me before, but when I was standing there, I suddenly realized how vain this whole fashion environment is. People don’t mind standing in line for I don’t know how long, just to find themselves in a packed full room where it’s almost impossible to breathe, hoping to catch a look at the latest collection by this or that designer. And that’s just the frustrating scenario you’re experiencing if you actually are lucky enough to get in. Still, people aren’t scared off by the prospect of being treated like animals in a slaughterhouse, because being to some exclusive place, even under the worst conditions, still feels like a great achievement. And in fact, everything that counts is being there and being seen, to the extent, that the actual runway show suddenly doesn’t seem important at all. The fact that runway shows usually aren’t longer than only twenty minutes doesn’t help there, either. The real show takes place when the runway is empty.

When I stepped out of the building, there was this very peculiar spectacle in front of me. All the bloggers gathered around, taking pictures of each other, complimenting each other on their extremely creative outfits. It seemed as if it’s not even about good taste or about any sense of fashion in general. What I saw today were people who would take pictures of anybody who didn’t look ordinary, in the good or in the bad way. If maybe I had walked around there in a bunny costume, they would have gone crazy just because this would be a non-conformist outfit, no matter if it has anything to do with fashion.
By the way, I’m pretty sure that it’s the behavior of this kind of people which creates all the fuzz about the Fashion Week, and I have to admit that I started to feel a little sad while I was watching this funny scene, which was nothing but a vanity fair where the event itself is pushed in the background while people try to draw attention to themselves, taking far too serious what they’re doing. But in my opinion, and contrary to the fuzz that turns the Fashion Week into a myth, this kind of circus is not what fashion is about. Fashion is not an absurd kind of self-marketing, but an art form which stays accessible in order to make your everyday life more enjoyable.
Still, I wanted to soak in more of the Fashion Week atmosphere, because here’s the crazy thing, all the artificiality and all the superficiality makes me throw up as much as it fascinates me and so I decided to walk through the Jardin des Tuileries.

It’s incredible, there’s no other event than the Fashion Week I can imagine which can first make you feel really bad, but one second later, it makes you feel great. Anyway, it happened to me when I was walking through the Jardin des Tuileries. Since most of the biggest runway shows take place over there, the place is full with photographers who are waiting for the celebrities (like Iggy Azalea and Anna Dello Russo, who also were there today) and models to come out after a show is finished. It’s the best place for people watching. So I was just walking around when suddenly, a girl stopped me and asked me if she could take a picture of me. I agreed, ready to continue my walk and people watching after that, but then more and more people wanted to take pictures of me as well until I had this huge crowd around me. I felt really weird and I was wondering if they knew that I was nobody who, in addition to that, was all dressed in H&M. But I guess that this is the thing about bloggers and about human nature in general: if you show a special interest in something or somebody, then you also suggest to other people that your object of interest must have something desirable, which, of course, makes it also appealing to others. By the way, that is exactly the reason why I decided not to take pictures of other bloggers, no matter how fashionable they are, because I find it highly annoying that, while having a look at a couple of different blogs, you see the same pictures. There’s nothing interesting about that. Even worse, the person, the outfit, whatever, loses its original charm because it suddenly becomes banal. All exclusiveness is taken away. So I’m sorry that I have no pictures at all of today’s events. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this text. As for me, I totally can say that I had a lot of fun during my five shallow minutes of fame!

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