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Rain on our parade



Cursing at the sky has become the country’s new hobby, seeing that the whole of Europe is being ravaged by weather that can only be described as Satan taking a very long piss on all of us. Even though Belgium has a tendency of having the most frustratingly wet summers known to man, this summer has been particularly … well, shit. Being the most stubborn woman I know, I keep running around in massively inappropriate footwear —where the whole fashion crowd would applaud me for — to show just how many fucks I give and to maybe change Satan’s mind upstairs. 

And well. As you’ve noticed. This one woman army hasn’t reached anything so far. But we’re getting there. I promise. 

Yesterday called for a different approach. No fancy shoes this time. It was time to rage. Armed with shiny white Dr Martens, dressed like the Belgian flag and the same black-yellow-red splashed on my face, I was ready to fight another war. From a distance. Because you know, I was still wearing a pretty dress that wouldn’t survive war. Belgium was playing the soccer field in France while our crew and I were playing the supporters field in Antwerp. Belgium was fighting a losing battle on the field against a stronger team while our crew was fighting a losing battle against a stronger weather.

And for just this once, I was in ecstasy over the teardrops that fell from the sky, the same teardrops we felt in our hearts.

As if the sky opened its tear ducts just to console an entire country. We danced in the rain; we screamed at the wind and the big screen in front of us. Only the wind could hear us, ignoring our pleas. We lost. But we raged. Belgium, its weather and us. And we will rage on. What brings this small nation together, can’t be broken easily. In two years, we will be there again to rage against the world. Belgium, its weather and us. Dancing in the rain, because we wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

WEARING    H&M jumper – H&M skirt – Vintage boots – ZARA bag – I AM jewelry