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Years ago, I went to Hayden Planetarium for their  sky show, which was a trip through the universe, and a lesson on scale.  For the finale, the camera began to pull back from our conveniently located position at the center of the universe, to its furthest edges, and then beyond.  Whether it was whimsy on the part of the Sky Show architects, a facsimile of truth, or just my personal hallucinatory perception, I’ll never know.  But I swear that as we zoomed out to view its majestic shape, the universe looked just like….a person. Many spiritual traditions maintain that humans are microcosmic copies of the vast universe.  As above so below.  With that in mind, I offer the universe’s musings on fashion and its cosmic manifestations. (With apologies to Italo Calvino.) Bear in mind, a universe’s day is a bit longer than ours.

Day one:

It has started off with a big bang.  I need an outfit to celebrate this auspicious occasion, something new, not like last universe’s drab cosmic dust coat.  Something flowy, more feminine, with a bit of drape.  I’m just bursting with energy, none of that same old same old white and silver for me.  I’m going to go for some Hubble telescope colors.  Might as well start creating the future now.  I love being in charge of both time and space. Hmmm, electric blue?  No, that’s not right, I’ll save that for a sky someday.  How about this magenta? Oh. My. Gawd!  Wait.  I am God. Or am I just a demiurge? What would that make the other universes? Sheesh, just re-born and already there’s the existential angst.  I think I need to be more open, let things unfold a bit.  Yes, that’s it, streams of atoms swirling in a soft off the shoulder number in an elegant periwinkle, twinkling out to infinity.

Day three:

Well, it’s only been three of my days and already I’m having issues.  I mean, I am expanding way faster than I should.  I gathered together a bunch of stars and named them the Spanx Galaxy. Shoved myself in, trying to keep that waistline from disappearing altogether, and now it looks like I’ve had a major boob job.  This is ridiculous!  I should celebrate livin’ large. I’m only going to collapse again in fifteen billion years anyway.  Besides, who am I trying to impress?  I haven’t run into another universe in eons.  In fact, I’m going to let out a couple of super novas right now.  Ahhhh. That feels so much better.  I feel a trillion tons lighter.  Wow, I could create a new diet sensation. “ I’m not fat, it’s just gas.” Hey,  I bet I can fit in my skinny jeans now. Where is a photographer when you need one?

Day eight:

Ran into Cgryzk today.  He was pushing his own boundaries a bit, as universes go.  He and I tend to avoid each other, politely nodding at parties.  His universe is, well, so ordered.  Every cosmic phenomenon is layered in a grid, like a woven placemat of time and space. He was decked as usual in his typical blue black Fibonacci sequence, while I was modeling a glorious tulle and satin like fantasy of chaos.  I dream of a galaxy named Oscar De La Renta where my taste for huge sleeves and sassy bows can be appreciated.   In a multiverse of infinite possibilities, I suppose there has to be a drab universe here and there.  I’ll just keep spewing out ideas till they all come together and pop up somewhere.

Day nineteen:

It is lonely out here sometimes, just me and my creativity. I send it all out there and do I ever get it back?  Houndstooth, seersucker, stiletto heels, paisley, oh how I love paisley, where is the paisley hiding amongst all those silly stars?  Hello, people!  When are you going to stop running in circles and falling into suns and collapsing into black holes?  I want to see a farthingale up close and personal.  And I’ve created an entire history of millinery.  But I can only wear so many hats at a time.  Right now, I’m choosing the dunce cap. Sigh.

Day one hundred:

It’s been ages since I’ve journaled. I just started to feel like I’m in a vicious cycle, maybe a bunch of vicious cycles: expand/ contract, create/destroy, eat/wash the dishes, hi-rise pants/low riders. I get an idea, and then I realize it’s been done before.  By me.

I do always feel so much better after I do my pages, but it’s getting my butt in the chair that’s the problem.  Speaking of which, where is my butt at the moment?  Whew!  That was close.  Almost collided with Meklx spinning away out there in her habitual tizzy.  She does have a flair for the dramatic.  Last time we floated into contact she was a whirling dervish of time and space.  Looks like she’s going for Flamenco now, stamping and clapping through her dark matter like there’s no tomorrow.  Heck, maybe she’s right.

Day three hundred sixty five:

I’ve done it!  While I was off doing something else, it all came together on a little speck of cosmic dust sitting in my navel: a world obsessed with fashion and novelty. They’ve bought into all of my fantastic notions and then some.  Women binding their feet. Hats with living birds in them. In their fourteenth century men are walking or rather stumbling around in pointy toed shoes so long they can’t kneel in church or get on a horse.  I wouldn’t have thought of that in a million years!  Maybe a billion. It’s a glorious little microcosm of creatures who love constant innovation. The things they’ve done with spandex! And here I thought it was only good for Meklx’s dance performances. I only hope they don’t blow themselves up before someone invents that heat sensitive fabric that changes color as you experience different emotions.  I just know that will be the next big thing.