Vintage blazer and watch | Finders Keepers dress
I skipped fashion week to visit my Grandma on the Sunshine Coast. She has cancer. Her 83-year-old torso is caught in the crossfire between evil cells and sympathetic doctors.
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Perhaps the older you get, the more apparent it is that everybody's dying. We're all on our way to death. We think we're living, but we're breathing to death.
***
Grandma remembers everything, I realise as we go through her photo albums. She points at a group photo of her 21st birthday party.
"He's dead, she's dead, she's dead, he has Alzheimer's now. He was a brilliant pianist."
Three people are still alive. I'm standing next to one of them.
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I had my 21st last month. I wonder who will die first. I wonder what it will be like when my granddaughter points at photos with relentless curiosity.
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Grandma was a professional singer when she was in her twenties. Her house was always filled with flowers that men would give her after the shows. She was beautiful in her theatre costumes. I don't know whether to say it because I don't want to imply that she isn't beautiful any more. I settle with the term graceful, because you don't lose that with age.
***
And that is why I don't have any fashion week posts.
Chanelle
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