The girls of the 'Chein'

In the summer of 2004 a group called Las Chuches became fashionable.

Sara, Marina and Melody, three brunettes from Cordoba at that age when girls bloom suddenly, sang like angels with sex, a fine and modern little flamenco to the greater glory of sleepless nights looking at the moon, lunera, and days in suspense longing for find that which you don't know what it is until you find it.

"I'm looking for the square

buy me a pair of pants, that they fit me very tight, that I stay vacilón”, they chirped, smug, in a chorus.

And you had to be dead and buried not to be moved imagining those kids looking for a treasure in the pile of pingos at the market, even though in his house there was nothing for more whim than the dress on Sundays.

Las Chuches separated in 2018 due to “internal problems”.

It may be that the years distanced them, or that they took away the desire to feel like it.

But his songs are eternal because they had a soul.

I remembered them yesterday when I saw a viral video that had its minute of glory on networks.

In it, Emilia, Alba, Delia, Carmen and Antonio, four girls and a boy from Trebujena, right on the line between Seville and Cádiz, paraded proudly in front of the mobile in a communion of their people.

they proclaimed, buzzing, with a tremendous Cadiz accent imitating the

of Instagram, and then they sang to the camera the brands of everything they wore from head to toe.

A hundred bucks, at most, in outfits and costume jewelry "from the

the

and the

they said, referring to Bershka, Lefties and Shein, the ultra-cheap Chinese fashion page that is dressing half of Spain.

At the point, the guardians of morality and the arbiters of elegance came out to call them chonis, catetas and collaborators of a production system that exploits workers and accelerates climate change.

Come on, don't fuck with me.

Now it turns out that all these debacles are to blame for those who buy what they want where they can.

First we put the drug of consumerism through all their orifices, I mean screens, and then we stone them for consuming it.

Well, look what I'm telling you: I prefer a thousand times the unfiltered soul of the

than the imposture of certain patronized pagan goddesses down to the panties.

At least Emilia and her friends pay what they get with their precarious jobs while studying a module to earn a living in the future.

For them,

is Chanel.

They want and they can't, okay.

But others can and do not want to look at them without prejudice.

And that has more crime.

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