|More Fashion Stories|
Fall Fashion (9/29/2010)
The Fash Bash! (5/12/2010)
Kiss me (2/10/2010)
|More from Christina Kallery|
Upper story (6/20/2007)
Beatific DIY (5/30/2007)
Precious metal (4/25/2007)
Photo illustrations by Cybelle Codish. Clothing modeled by Ingrid Bushamie. Hair styling by Scott Hulbert of Birmingham's Red Salon. Makeup by Barbara Deyo of Birmingham's Touch Spa.
As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed
into a gigantic insect.
Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis
All I want are high heels, high heels. If I was a girl, I'd wear a lot of high heels. High, stiletto
Isaac Mizrahi, fashion designer
4/25 - You just know it's gonna be a strange day when you wake up and find
you've grown 3 feet overnight and your legs have sprouted like wayward branches over the edge of
the bed. You know things will only get weirder when, within a few hours, you're stooping to walk through
the house. Cut to midafternoon and I'm metro Detroit's walking B-movie refugee, looming large
as a high-rise and stopping traffic with my looks literally. In fact, I've caused three jams
already today. Oh, dear.
Something told me not to pick up that glowing meteorite and bring it home, but I just couldn't help myself. I'm a
sucker for chartreuse it's so '70s. Now I could use a taxi for a clutch purse or a stop sign for
a brooch. Only luckily, I stowed the alien orb in my closet for safekeeping and my wardrobe's super-sized
too. So at least I'll be a well-dressed giantess.
4/29 - Spent a lovely afternoon sunbathing in the park. Had to flick away a few pesky patrol cars and angry picnickers, but this larger-than-life thing isn't so terrible after all. I can stroll wherever I please, sunbathe on rooftops, spy in apartment windows. I've always wanted to be taller anyway. Giselle, eat your heart out. And you can't imagine the view! This evening, I think I'll throw on my favorite little (um, I mean big) minidress and go relax by the river to watch the tiny freighters floating by and the sun sinking into a halo of pink and orange clouds.
5/2 - You won't believe what happened today. Someone wrote me a love letter. I'd noticed this handsome fellow several times over the last few days on my daily walk down Woodward, but I was so busy trying not to squish passers-by or step on cars that I didn't realize he was trying to get my attention. Today he caught me at a traffic light and was standing at my feet shouting something. He was so cute and so tiny waving his little arm in the air. At first I thought he wanted me to say hello, but then I saw the slip of white in his hand. Actually, it was quite a large sheet of paper for such a little guy how gentlemanly of him to consider my eyesight. After much squinting, I've been able to make it out:
Dear 50-foot Woman,
I've never done anything like this before approached a total stranger but from the moment I first saw you towering above the People Mover a few days back, I haven't been able to get you off my mind. I still recall how you were wearing a sexy black number with golden spangles and your hair was pulled back from your ravishing face. I felt struck to the depths of my soul. Maybe it was simply the train lurching to an abrupt halt when you stepped on the rails, but I don't think so. I think it was my heart.
Some say you are a menace to the city, but I don't believe their lies. There's so much kindness in the beautiful dark pools of your eyes. You never meant to overturn that bus I noticed how tenderly you leaned down to turn it right side up again. Everyone was yelling and cursing, but they were all right just a little shaken up. And the incident with that street mime? I could see how awful you felt, but, to be completely honest, he annoyed everyone anyway. I guess what I'm trying to say is ... I love you. I know I haven't known you very long, and this is all so rushed, but my heart aches at the thought of your gentle glance, your chestnut hair, your perfect lips. I'd do anything to steal a few moments alone with you. Won't you meet me under the viaduct this evening? (I think you can just about fit if you sit down). I'll be wearing a red carnation in my lapel.
His letter left me feeling giddy and flattered. Of course, he could just be some weirdo with a giantess fetish, but something in his face makes me believe him. Of course, with such a considerable height gap, it can never be. But who knows, maybe there's a shelf life on my largeness.
5/6 - I know it's wrong. I know it'll probably cost me months of therapy in the end but I've been seeing Dwayne! He's so sweet and thoughtful. Just yesterday we were strolling through Eastern Market, and if he hadn't jumped up and down and screamed, I would have tripped over an abandoned pickup. The truth is I was too busy gazing down at the adorable bald spot in the center of his head to notice anything else.
Afterward, we had the most romantic picnic. We found a deserted field at the edge of the city and
talked for hours. I'd felt daring that morning and wore something a bit revealing. Good thing I've
been keeping up on my workouts. That I-75 overpass makes for great leg lifts.
5/14 - I'm so upset! Dwayne and I had our first fight. We were at the movies the Ford Wyoming Drive-In and he accused me of flirting with another man. I totally wasn't! OK, maybe I was ... just a little ... but in a harmless way! He reminded me of my junior high phys-ed teacher Mr. D'Angelo. I'd never expected Dwayne to be the jealous type. But he didn't meet me at the viaduct last night and when I went over to his apartment building and looked in the fifth floor window, he wasn't home. I got so flustered that I almost fell and flattened Lawrence, his upstairs neighbor. How embarrassing.
5/17 - All is well. Dwayne came by last night, looking forlorn and miserable. We made up and are happier than ever. We're even talking about embarking on a little getaway up North. I hear there've been some meteor showers of late, and you never know when you'll stumble across another cosmic rock.
Christina Kallery's favorite dress is a mint green Betsey Johnson with rosebud appliques, bought off a sale rack in 1998. Send comments to firstname.lastname@example.org.