Dolce et Gabbana (From Gazette & Herald)

Dolce et Gabbana

Here they come, rows on endless rows

From Knightsbridge trudging on down Oxford Street.

Each as blackly dressed, as uniform, as crows

Marching forward, Gucci shoes on Gucci feet.

And dear God the children, each a mother's son

Clad in ill-fitting sportswear daughters too.

Proud to show they're Gap kids, every one.

We ordinary mortals draw away, we let them through.

Harrods sale! We must be there, the prices tumbling

Of Versace.....and that Chanel dress I'm told

Supports, contains, prevents the body crumbling,

When one buys designer wear one cannot gracefully grow old.

Everything which can must be tucked, stitched around

Or else upraised, oh blessed Wonderbra!

That stops my boobs from dragging on the ground.

One cannot praise too highly Wonderbra.

But are they happy? Sticklike, thin and pale?

That look as though they need some food and sun

And have instead cocaine and smoke, though none inhale,

Stay up all night at parties having fun.

Sleeping with male models, chiselled faces

Who know how to roll a joint in just one hand,

Make love in front of mirrors, and kiss places

That the plain suburban girl has yet to understand.

Oh yes. The beautiful, the rich, they have the best.

It's still the same, the old, old story,

Sadly, but Dolce et Gabbana est

Pro Patria Mori.

Updated: 10:39 Thursday, June 06, 2002