Last week, The Sartorialist posted a contest that challenged readers to write a 200 words or fewer story inspired by three of The Sartorialist’s images. Winners recived access to a private party at Danziger Gallery in New York, a hotel stay, and a free bag.(original post here) Not a bad deal! Which is why I convinced my sister, a writer, to submit to the contest. Unfortunately she didn’t win, but I thought her stories were too good not to gain some credit. Celebrate the start of Fashion week by reading her stories, below.
This city is a trick coin. It appears two-sided, a light and a dark, but it’s all the same. She knows this, perhaps is the only one who notices. This is a snow globe of a city. Eerily bright, but underground a revolution brews. She walked into the day like one walks into a painting.Toulouse-Lautrec reds and ugly women in beautiful clothes. This city is a kaleidoscope. When it turns,the colors and the shapes collide, but does it really ever change? When she slipped into her heels as the sun rose that morning, she knew the only way tobring color into this city was through the soles of her shoes.
There is a time to mourn and a time to dance. The incense had curled up beyond the alter, past the stained glass angel with his sheathed sword and eyes upraised. A wisp of white had clung to existence, reluctant toleave this world in very much the same way she had. They danced the jitterbug.They fought over dinners of baked pasta and wine. They grew a family, in whoseears danced the words “hard work” from birth to, for one, premature death. The children were there with him this day as he watched the white smoke float upinto the church’s rafters, but he had to leave even them behind. He needed towalk alone, for the first memorable time, without her. His cap was well worn,but he donned it today day anyway. She had given it to him for their thirtieth anniversary. Then was a time, as it is even now, to dance.
To read more of Angie’s writing, check out her blog here.
*Photos from www.thesartorialist.com