The sky is broken and I haven't dubbed this digital chronicle of fashion "cloudline" for nothing. How else would a purveyor of nebuli aka scribbler and invariable below photographic subject validate the unapologetically obscure "Cloudline Chic Flows" name without committing to dress like chic flowing cloud conglomerates?
A textile appearance which comes in the form of a dream-like cumuli apparition and a neatly choreographed re-enactment of "chic" by my one and only A Pink Moon Camera, articulate what I have unsuccessfully tried to put in words through the years: How do cloudlines aka troposphere gangs really are chic and flow at the same time? Having established their preponderance in the shadows of my mind's meanderings, clouds somehow flow in their cursive effortless journey toward skywatcher eyes. Poetically echoing the way fashion unfolds, clouds ascend to the spirituous heights of creative process. They "write" the story in the free flow of a hyperrealist and well I, am the studious watcher who occasionally flies away with them.
Photos by A Pink Moon Camera