Fashion Victim - Poetry

The A to Zs of Fashion Victims, from Auctions, Bimbo, Catwalk, to Editor, to Journalist, to Logos, Model, Photographer.....and more... all of them described in poetry.

Here's my favourite, D for Designer,
from the book Fashion Victims by Michael Roberts:

At six years old I dressed a doll in ribbons, lace, and flowers
My father said he wished me dead and made me take cold showers.

At twelve I took my mother off to buy the spring collections
Oh, what a waste of style and taste - she hated my selections.

At twenty-one, with childhood done, I studied hard at fashion
I sewed quite well, but truth to tell, fame was my guiding passion.
I learned to pose in outre clothes and clubbed till early morning
I slept in class, they kicked my ass - and threw me out for yawning.

I changed my name at twenty-five, became a good assistant
I worked all night, was bright, polite, and never too persistent.
I so disarmed with boyish charm, my hair as soft as sable
A hedge honcho came along and offered me a label!

At thirty-five, I felt alive, no one could stop me rising
They said my clothes were "quelque chose," "amusing", "smart", "surprising."

At forty-nine, my second line was priced at several billion
I lived in castles on the Rhine, my drug bills came to millions.
I wore a wig and Quaker shoes-my own unique aesthetic-
And never hear my workers say, "He's looking quite pathetic."

At sixty-one (which I'll remain for the longest time),
I fear the days are running out, but onward still I climb.
I diet, train, have sex again - I've scored some hunky catches.
But when I go, I'll go alone, with doll's and daddy's ashes.