Mad about Puka Shells
I blame Dries.
Had it not been for the Spring/Summer 2014 collection, I may have never so much as thought to uncover the bracelets of Aurelie Bidermann, or the Alaia shoes of yore and Tory Burch’s interpretation on the fractured cone snail in the form of a tiki-tiered clutch.
Alas, though, I’m here and there’s no turning back.
All I can do at this point, frankly, is lure you on board and subsequently request that we try as we might to divorce the implications previously tethered to the shells.
They’re ripe with imagery from terribly directed 90’s romcoms, chock full of young men who make younger women fall in love with them, who promise them the world in exchange for their virginity but instead leave them dejected, defiled, demoralized, with not even a lonesome white chip note to show for their compassion.
Instead, we shall fabricate new implications, ones brimming with runway inspiration and imaginings of a beach off a French coast somewhere (presumably in France) and resolve to abide by a long time tenet of the Man Repeller ethos: that if it looks like a vagina — which in a clawing, vaguely dried out way, it totally does — it’s probably couture.