DANCE BY LAURENCE

She slips away from reality, gently, as one closes one's eyes in the sun. One step in the shadows, the other in the light, she crosses the summer in balance. The "calfskin" embraces her skin like an ancient memory, carmine red, faded ivory, the motif of somewhere else. It is the suspended hour, the one where the wind speaks softly, where the fabrics dance without making a sound.

Long ruffled skirt, sarong tied at the waist, the look is instinctive, almost wild. In her hands, a book of forgotten addresses and that fierce lightness that one doesn't learn. Her footsteps echo on the warm stones, she strolls, but it's the world that seems to be waiting for her around every corner.

Nomadic, sunny, a little mystical, very instinctive, I cross India against the light, draped in khadi, hair undone and heart open.

With my feet in the pink dust and my soul levitating, I walk along the Ganges like a dream, fluorescent and sacred. Orange, pink, blue, I am my own holi, radiant and faded by time, like the memories we keep on our skin.

She moves gently along paths lined with century-old olive trees, through the scents of the sun-warmed scrubland. In Opio, time stretches like a silk ribbon, and her pace follows this slow, almost secret rhythm. There is a precise nonchalance in her gait, an elegance born of the landscape itself.

Her style is rooted in the earth and the sky. She wears a dress with pleats as ample as the hills, in natural tones reminiscent of the ochres of ancient walls, the silvery green of olive leaves, and the muted blue of the pines' shade. Nothing is calculated, everything is just right.

A playlist that dances between sunlight and light shadows, where the melodies are dressed in carefree sweetness. A breath of summer captured in music, to be listened to with the windows wide open, a glass of freshness within reach.

A suspended thrill, the echo of an elusive moment. Each note brushes, each harmony lingers, like a light breath on the skin.

A selection of vaporous sweetness, where the melodies strike a delicate balance between brilliance and restraint. Listen slowly, in the diffuse light of a special moment.

Aristocat and obviously feline, ballerina, mischievous, limit
teen and graceful entrechats, I slip between the drops, dancing,
undulating, I avoid the puddles until Savile Row. My taylor is rich, coat
Elizabethan wool and doe eyes, boyish trousers, plaid shirt,
oversized cashmere and total look with very British accents, I feel like a Lady,
Mayfair Lady in the open air, rushing into this Rock & Rolls Royce
metallic loaned for the occasion.

Normandy-me yes. I take on a mischievous air in my big sailor sweater, oversized and buttercups, navy blue against a gray sky, for an autumn without monotony.

A little cold snap and a touch of madness, cardigan from head to toe, vintage jeans on tapered legs, heading to the Range to hand over the wheel to the one who steals my soul day and night. I am a companion in the countryside, a city girl on a spree, an undine, where are we having dinner? Seafood and champagne, a cigarette in my mouth found in my big woven lamb bag. Let's wrap ourselves up, go back to the sand near the stars;

I marry the night in broad daylight and then finally I postpone
my departure, in a hurry to stay, bag striped with my pearly nails, well-made outfits
packed, hands wandering and finger perched on the shutter release of my
Hasselblad, click clack, I take my clicks and my claps, bag thrown
In the convertible, I drive along the coast, do a perfect job, with a bucket hat on my head,
Niro in sight, ultra-marine and yellow submarine, I put the gas in
colored cotton, eager to dive into the American night.

The sun gives, I sundance, the pearls of my pearly vest
melt, my tye & dye is fading, it's time to walk in the shade,
fruit cocktail, fruit of the moon, tone on tone on the skin, I make the
round, mysterious, in an adventure, one of my colorful inventions.
Like a bird of paradise, I sing.

Put this weekend to music, quickly, after this long week, acoustic guitar and electric atmosphere, little brother and big sisters, all together in concert in this barn with beauties, choir at heart, chic hippies, handsome hobos, nonchalant, committed, old fashion and so trendy. We're going to make a big deal out of it, the time to get together, kind of blues, plucked strings, screwed hats, choreography repeated a thousand times in life as on the tracks where we play trapper.

A collection shaped by Laurence, in which we want to curl up, to take our ease or to spread our wings. A wind of freedom, my America, authentic and rhythmic, lively, airy, aerial and down to earth. What if we escaped?