Johannesburg – the concrete jungle
Johannesburg – allows my language to be heard
The streets are my blank paper and every day I adjust each verse.
Each stanza speaks the words I fail to say with my lips.
Fashion lives through those shy, conservative,and sometimes the wild persona’s we create.
Fashion’s language differs in each city, but her words should never dictate what you want to say.
Fashion differs in Cape Town, she speaks inland winters in Johannesburg and sunny Durban fabrics which drape and shamelessly adorn the human form.
Through a Peter Pan collar, high-waisted shorts and brogues, I could be the young traveller in search of the next big moment to inspire my life.
I have found Joburg to be the eye opener I think I needed.
The streets, the people, they allow you to become an individual fixture in all this hustle and bustling we do. I find myself taking snapshots of the faces and different interactions I come across, and in those snapshots I can slot myself in – a different language, a different culture yet it completes a frame. A frame that makes up who I am and yet to be.
This city embraces the damned, broken and misunderstood only to reshape them into her ornaments.
Johannesburg is a culture.
Her skyscrapers and torn down caves bleed culture.