That gown has stayed blue for hundreds of years.
Imagine the agony of today's ephemeral celebutante
if she knew her likeness would hang for centuries,
only one image to capture her generation. What angle,
what filter would best represent her era's aesthetic?
What if all that remains is a paparazzi shot
of the less attractive sister in a chubby phase
wearing yoga pants and drinking coffee? The horror,
if our grandchildren only know us as we really are.
Ruins of buildings are lauded and stroked, but
a woman without makeup is a national joke.
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