An Extraordinary Colorful World

The other day I was thinking a lot about how clothing is a mediator between a person's inner world and how others see them.

I put on a little black dress and, with 70s chic, strolled the streets of Frankivsk on a Saturday morning. And I felt like a sentence torn out of context on the pages of a cliché-ridden newspaper. I walked and tried to see: behind every look of sweatpants and a Chinese t-shirt, is there a colorful, extraordinary world?

Or is there not?