What if maturity was a form of rediscovered innocence?
On this side of the world, it is often akin to experiences acquired, piled up over the years like a pile of small pebbles, which weigh down, make the spine bend and all traces of lightness flee.
But what if it instead reflected our inner sky?
The one that, like a painter with his brush, we draw, day after day, choosing its nuances, serious or light.
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Maturity would then be the exquisite sketch of our deep beauty, of our accomplishment and of what we have understood about it.
And it has little to do with age.
Nor with the visible marks of aging.
It is a kind of quiet, peaceful light, which requires no artifice to exist.
Fashion being a zeitgeist medium, it is not so strange that many designers are summoning it this season.
There is the visible part of the phenomenon: models with gray hair who crown…
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