In Italian, the word corona translates to crown. But this—i.e. the coronavirus—is one coronation that I’m sure we all hope to dodge.
As the world stirs and blooms back to life around us, humankind faces a collective and as yet indefinite series of deaths: economical, social, emotional, psychological, and yes, even biological. Most salient of all, biological.
This paradox struck me while out on a walk with my husband and puppy. I’d made plans to meet up with a fellow fashion blogger later that afternoon to take photos. My direction, at first rudderless, suddenly grew crystal clear. It was last-minute, but I pulled an outfit together and struck out to bring my vision to life.
In the midst of spring, I found there was, within me, an invincible funeral.
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Here’s the thing about COVID-19—about all illnesses, in fact. It does not concern itself with humans’ feeble efforts to parse out statistics and bellcurves. It does not care about your race, your sex, your status. It ravages rich and poor, immunocompromised and healthy, young and old, all alike. SARS-Cov-2 is not particular; it does not discriminate. And not a single one of us is immune.
The U.S., my home country, now leads the world in confirmed cases of coronavirus. The president did promise “America First,” after all.
Italia, passaci la nostra corona.
Dress: Aritzia || Scarf: Alexander McQueen || Shoes: Helmut Lang || Belt: ASOS