thrice struck

The first instance I recognised a piece of clothing I really liked was when I came across an article about a particular paletot and a bulbous cape I saw in a magazine article. The creator had passed away a good few decades before. I came across the article by chance, as it was kept in the house-helpers' room, and a few times I sneaked away from rote learning to read and re-read the article. I was not even fourteen when this took place.

A few years later I went on an art class trip to this museum. During the requisite guided tour, I saw my first saw-it-in-books-and-like-it-even-more-in-live painting (a Rembrandt with amazing cut gemstone rendering). After the tour I went over to the bookshop section and bought a book on... beautiful clothes. Of all things. In hindsight, I'm not sure if my art teacher felt joy or exasperation that I bought something which was related to the exhibition by merit of being next to it.

So business school came into life, and with it the RWL (manga central, coffee table colour books, no studying please). I hung out there regularly to get an eye-hunger fix. One of the books that I revisited repeatedly was this.

Can you guess the fashion designer whose name was fixed onto my mind?
His name is Cristobal Balenciaga.
I came across his body of work three times without remembering his name and each time I liked it. That man is a genius.

This is my little patch of motivational memory, the one designers conjure when they get asked why they got into fashion. It was only after I was out of college did I remember the events and marvelled how I kept on gushing over 'this designer I just read about' on three different episodes, and they all point to the one and same person.

And thus thrice struck was I by the Cristobal - Balenciaga the dead, I'd clarify to friends at college.

Good night.