http://beta.blogger.com/template-edit.g?blogID=12064789&saved=true To Hel and Back :: Edit your Template To Hel and Back: From fashion to facism

Saturday, July 09, 2005

From fashion to facism

















The folk of Daugavpils know how to passagiare (apologies to Italians for the spelling). The girls - really women of all ages - but the fashion distinctly girls, are waxed, buffed, curled, crimped into tiny skirts or the tightest trousers and impossible high heels with ankle straps.

The older girls have learned to walk among pedestrian Riga Iela's cobblestones, sunglasses perched delicately on their face (these are big sunglasses), their cheekbones high, the arch of their plucked eyebrows even higher, their pouts perfect.

The younger set haven't mastered the walk. They attempt to strut with a stride too long and tentatively place a heel amongst the stones. They posess waists that could not possibly hold any vital organs and underwear lines (or distinct lacks of them) that leave little to the imagination.

And they all know how to wiggle.

The men watch them, sipping their beer or coffee, or like the polite football team in my hotel, in quiet awe and reverence, their jaws dropping as if they have never before seen woman. They catch me laughing at their unison of wonder.

Not to be outdone, the young men, drivers' licences freshly stamped, parade in borrowed cars with unfamiliar gearboxes and cruise around the town's perfect grid of streets, occassionally crunching out of first and making a compulsory high speed wheel spinning u turn out the front of my hotel. Speakers boom and mags gleam chrome.

Saturday morning, I decide to visit the memorial for those who died ensuring those young people had the freedom to strust in fake D&G trousers and plastic Boss bags bought from the old lady at the bus station.

The memorial to those who died in the fight against facism is unkempt and deserted. It's a beautiful spot, with sunlight filtering through the birch trees. But the grass is knee hugh and unlike other monuments in the area, it hosts no picnickers.

Strangely there is also little said at this monument. The obelisk looks freshly whitewashed and the marble plaques set in the ground are smooth, with no trace of engraving or markings.

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