Fashion lives on its own.

No matter if you love it or not, care for it or don’t, play dress up or put on old jeans and shirts every day, it exists. It for sure doesn’t care about you, no matter if you love it or not. Like a King, Fashion is doing its own business,  and has his servants – fashion designers, who create laws, icons, known, worn, wanted. They create history, day by day. There is no woman, who knows about Michael Kors, Galliano, Cavalli, Ralph Lauren, Marc Jacobs, Carl Lagerfeld and doesn’t want at least one item in her closet from their fairy-tale, wonderful stores. The joy of buying a new pair of shoes or just planning of so is magnificent for every ‘big city’ woman. The feeling of putting a small, black, luxurious dress from Chanel on and then wearing it – even more magnificent. Adding some red lipstick, mascara, choosing shoes from the closet – is there anything more awesome that that? Getting compliments not fishing for them – glorious.

Fashion is definitely a drug, once you get addicted there is no way back. It’s an irreversible trend, which has been in the air for a while. If you are a candy, alcohol, anything addict, there is always a way for you to be cured. If you are a fashion addict, it is getting worse all the time. Al over the world, addicted read Vogue, the bible of Fashion, from cover to cover, and put new names, items, brands to their wishlists. This epidemic is not known to everyone but  whoever cares for Fashion is its slave forever.

I am.