A few weekends ago I was walking down Michigan Avenue doing my “rounds” around the Gold Coast* when I happened upon this adorable girl. She was running back and forth between the steps of the historic Water Tower and the fountain in the center of the plaza. She radiated pure, unbridled joy. I think we can all connect to the spirit of this young child, whose enthusiasm and lightness is inspiring in its simplicity. Every one of us has memories that stretch way back to when something as elementary as doing somersaults down a hill created so much enjoyment. I’m sure that’s exactly what her parents thought as they sat on the steps, watching her play. They smiled at me while I took a few snapshots, and I’m sure they thought I was thinking the same thing. And they were right.
*In my defense, I spent this past weekend and the weekend before shooting in Wicker Park. I’m so behind that I’m still playing catch up with old photos.
My words are insignificant next to such tremendous beauty. If I were wealthy enough, I would lounge around in Haider Ackermann all day like his muse Tilda Swinton famously does. His designs speak for themselves. I think of his aesthetic as if Rick Owens’ post-apocalyptic warrior goddess left behind battlefield Earth for a fabulously wealthy alien planet in a far away galaxy. Now instead of fighting all day, she lounges around in noxious-gas colored silk ensembles with her new coneheaded extraterrestrial friends. This is a totally ridiculous story I just wrote. Staring in the face of abject beauty does that to me. See, I told you my words had no meaning.
