The Glamorous Gorgon That Gave the Globe Gianni (Or Gianni the Globe)

High fashion’s

Not created in blind passion

It’s precise and mathematised

Dazzling, flash design

That’ll catch the eye

And magnetise!

It’s skill and talent

Meticulous needlework

Sewing patches

Mood boards

Pairing tones that match

Follow the rabbit

Into the hole, like Alice

Coming into the industry

You’ll start low on the stairs

But keep your nerve

And demonstrate a flair

For folding fabrics

And don’t be deterred

By the smoke

Blown by odious dragons

Who control

Who goes from tier to tier

The progression of which

Is usually slow and static 

To unlock the doors

The keys must turn

And there you’ll see

The open passage

It’s so cut-throat in fashion

A continual contest

Between who’s fresh and cleaner:

Sue, Jess or Tina?

Designers create shirts

With random slogans attached

Such as,

‘The Incredible Hulk Hogan goes “Smash!”’

And, ‘Deus ex Machina’

Crew-necks

In-season blue vests, and sneakers

Smooth chests, perfume, sweat

In mirrors

Even the dudes flex and preen cause

Everyone’s gotta be a stupendous diva!

The mood’s set

For the show to begin

The models

You can see the bones

Through their skin

Hopelessly thin

As poles, sticks, twigs

Strike a pose

Cameras go “click, click”

Make-up colour, rose lips

Wigs - white as snow

Stilettos, at least a whole inch thick

Contours, foundation, hairspray

Line up, down the stairway

Onto stage - left

Take breaths, smile

And walk straight - a smooth gait, steps

Greatness, style, in killer heels

The costumes from Jackson’s Thriller’s still

An inspiration for innovation

The audience clap, applause

On the stage we’re collectively

A “cat” that “walks”

But really we’re a pack of dogs

We’ll tear each other to scraps

With chat and gossip

We’re so fabulous and immaculate

Everything that you’re not

Fashion houses act as God

Dictating what people wear

Anna Wintour

Gives an evil stare and gaze

Behind a stunning, black

and regal pair of shades

But what goes on

Behind the scenes

It’s secret, rare

I doubt you’ll get a glimpse

“Oh, look - have you seen this - her?”

“Oh my gosh, she’s actually got on leather - pink,

Peacock feathers and a dress that’s leopard print”

Photographers flash! 

We’re so opulent, that’s an obvious fact

Original, no-one can copy us

Cash, is what we’ve got in our bags

Through clothes

We control the populace/mass

And we are the reason

For trends and consumer fads

We’re what’s hot - a volcano

That’ll never dissolve into ash

So here’s to you, fashion, our queen

We raise our goblets and glasses