DRESSCODE

A fantasy about your own legend - like a party where death is just a dress code. The world hasn't collapsed yet, but just in case, it's better to look flawless: the Glock glitters in the flash, the crop top fits perfectly, and underfoot is a black Rolls, ready to take you to paradise or to the autoparty. Here, pathos is mixed with tenderness, and bravado sounds louder than fear. Everything is a game, but the rules are simple: if you're going to leave, do it to your own beat, in your own brands and with a smile that even a priest wouldn't dare condemn.