First Love
I believe in love at first sight. When I first discovered this photo it was as if Cupid had struck me with an atelier arrow – Danielle, meet high fashion; your soul mate.
I was a junior at a boarding school in Nova Scotia, where Gossip Girl was over a decade away and polyester tunics and cotton ties were the extent of our daily couture. Our greatest form of self-expression was how we decorated our dorm rooms, or of course, how we worked our latest pair of penny loafers. Not many things added glamour to our everyday life (knee socks only came in so many styles) so I turned to the many fashion magazines my Mother sent me in monthly parcels. This image was the first to act as a shrine on my wall. I sat on my bed and stared at it whenever I suffered from whatever teenagers suffer or procrastinated during our mandatory homework sessions.
Attired in a Crayola-box of matching minis, the supermodels we now know and love utterly fascinated me. They were so connected as a group and yet so individually strong at the same time. I was hooked, and at 14 I had outgrown Seventeen. Soon I was collecting all the Versace ads as fervently as the boys were collecting hockey cards. I knew all the key players by name, what brands they were campaigning and what shows they were scheduled to walk. My room became a collage of glamour shots, floor to ceiling, which even landed a spot in the yearbook.
Discovering a world of splendor in the pages of Vogue, Elle and Bazaar was awe-inspiring. I owe much of my appreciation for all things glamourous to this photo. It will always be my first love.
I just remember the George Michael video!