there is a certain 'realistic' futility that embodies every aspect of today's mundanities. i just finished brushing my teeth. whilst doing so, i was gazing at my painterly sea scene shower curtain and thought of similar hues mr. mcqueen used in his spring 2003 womenswear offering. then thought about how hollow it just felt to simply shave, as if smooth skin wasn't enough. to lose a force like his provides reminders of the buoyant quality of artistic skills of that magnitude. to think of a future without any additional contributions from mr. mcqueen truly makes this life a little less than nirvana. the man made my insides grin. he made the paris collection experiences just that. i miss him every other minute. [source: schmoses].