Zipette

A dream on the edge of glamour and street dust - where Carla Bruni's voice mixes with bass, and shiny shop windows reflect not models, but those who are simply too tired to look in the mirror. Everything is mixed up: business with poetry, brand with a bang, dreams of purity with dirt on trainers. The city lives by its own rules here: some are ‘blanc comme neige’, but everyone is still involved.

The music comes in waves - as if from somewhere in the underground, echoes of luxury long lost its lustre. Between the lines - a feeling of cynicism and melancholy, like after a night where laughter sounded louder than meaning. And yet there is a strange beauty in this mess: as if someone had put on an old record not about love, but about survival, and it is still playing - slightly hoarse, but persistently.