Thanks Rais. I've really liked having to think of a narrative for the past two challenges. It forces me to use creative parts of my brain. I wish more people would contribute, it really is a great challenge.
SW&D: End of the World Challenge - Your Last Outfit - Page 4
I think we'll have a few more in before the 18th. Most challenges seem to get about half their entries in on the weekend right before the cut off.
I was thinking about what I'd actually wear if something like this happened today, in the current 30C+ weather we've been having here. I'd guess the same tights but with lighter sneakers, probably my ACG Trainerendors. They're very light for how well made they are. Maybe a pair of thin cotton joggers over them, or nylon shorts, a poly tank top with silver thread to cut bad odours a bit, and then one of my water-resistant windbreakers stowed in my Nike backpack. Similar to what I wear most days and not that interesting for the challenge, but more practical in this climate
there's no way I would survive an apocalypse, so I would go for the most comfort possible in my last 24hrs. I'd grab a couple yohji things, and for one last burst of joy, I'd head to the beach.
- - -
p.s. Last Man On Earth is a great series to add to the End of the World movie/tv themes.
Left my camera at work so ended up borrowing one, and my comix skills are not up to Auximenes' level, but enough with the excuses:
in colour and details (Click to show)
soloist poncho shirt
hobo x stanley parker ring
Finnish lapp knife
Warning: Spoiler! (Click to show)
He gathered the thick, hempen material and set to work, methodically cutting sheet after sheet. Stitching first fine, silken thread and then rough, coarse strands in the manner of a suture, gradually the garments took shape. Though the sun rays couldn't pierce the clouds, the hat would provide protection against the dust storms that raged through the night. The blouson and pants formed a matching suit of armor, tough enough to withstand the bite of feral dogs that made life in hell even worse.
His initial work completed, he traveled north, where the tradition of natural dyes had persisted past the end of days. The vats of dye reeked. The pungent smell pierced his watering eyes. He steeled his focus and plunged the garments deep into the inky darkness. Once, twice, thirty times, he lost count. Each time he brought them up, gasping for air, they came back a darker, deeper color. After an unknowable amount of time passed, he thrust them into the hazy daylight once more and was finally satisfied.
These would suffice.
Oh yeah, and he had some sick red boots too.
Edited by nicelynice - 4/22/16 at 6:33pm
@Lorcan7 Cool comic format. That poncho is great. I think it would be comfortable for the end of the world, you could sleep in it.
@nicelynice Great outfit and I really like those boots especially. I don't usually like hats but that one looks cool and I think it would come in handy out in the elements. Enjoyed reading the narrative as well, I like how you made it about creating the clothes; was hoping someone would submit something "artisinal" for this challenge.
@el Bert Can you edit in a sentence or two about your choice? Doesn't need to be a narrative. Going to close this up in roughly 2 days and put up the poll so every can choose the winner and then the next contest can begin.
The apocalypse isn't for fashion. I am reminded of this fact as I walk through a deserted downtown core, past a Hermes and Louis Vuitton, both store front windows still intact, goods still present and accounted for. You see, no one loots a Louis Vuitton during an apocalypse. When things turn to shit the last thing you're doing is looting for a new handbag. Not when people are being hanged by lampposts in the city square for stealing a loaf of bread, or breathing their last breath on park benches, as others rummage through their coat pockets in hopes of finding a tiny morsel of food. When once we went to stadiums to see our team beat its most hated rival, we now witness public executions along the 10th yard line. We line up, not for those new Kanye Yeezys, but for our weekly food rations.
And yet, there are still those that walk among us who cling to the old ways.
After an unsatisfying breakfast that consisted of a stale poptart washed down with a sip of flat Coke, I spent the morning making my way out the city. As civilization began to recede, and the sidewalks replaced by dirt paths, I met a man leaning against a tall oak tree, just by the side of the road. The stranger's sudden appearance so startled me (for surely he hadn't been there a second ago. Had he?), that for a brief moment I thought I had been hallucinating. That was until the hallucination spoke to me.
“How goes it, friend?”, the man asked. He was clean shaven and disquietingly healthy. His ruddy face was filled with good cheer. He wore a studded leather jacket that sat comfortably on his shoulders, over a Givenchy rottweiler sweatshirt.
“Hello”, I replied, cautiously. My eyes darted past the man, sensing movement in the tall grass behind him. Two goth ninjas emerged as if out of thin air. Then two became four, then four became eight.
“I suppose you're going to want this?”, I asked the man and his men, and held out my backpack in front of me. As I did this, the men watched. Watched, and waited.
“Nah, you can keep that.”, the man replied. His voice sounded reasonable enough, but if there was one thing I had discovered since setting out onto the road, it was to never trust a reasonable voice. “Probably ain't got anything in there worth taking, anyhow. Cans of dried tuna...a spoon. Maybe a roll of toilet paper. Shoot, what we want with any of that?”
“So what do you want?”, I asked, trying (and hoping) to match the man's reasonable tone. The air became deadly quiet, save for a low thumping sound, which I soon realized was the sound of my own quickening heart beat.
“Well, you see, me and my crew been out on the road a while now”, said the man. “Seen a lot of shit. Done a lot of shit. Killed some people. You know how it is.”
I nodded and tried to remain cool.
“And yet in all that time, I ain't never seen nobody with a coat as nice as the one you got on you right now. Who makes it?”
“Lemaire”, I replied. My Lemaire Kaftan. I took it off a man I once found lying in the middle of the street. Unlucky for him. Lucky for me. “I like how it drapes”.
The man raised his eyebrows, impressed. “You don't say! And that sure is a nice looking coat. But, you see... the bitch of it is... we're gonna have to take it.” And with that, the man and his crew of goth ninjas drew out their swords.
The Kaftan is nice and roomy. It keeps me warm in those harsh winter months, and is comfy. And I do like how it drapes. But not just because of how it fits me. It's drape hides beneath it a fearsome weapon.
I unleashed the katana called Shiva and raised her in front of me.
“That is not going to happen.”
I could bore you with the rest of the details, but it should be quite obvious as to what happened next, should it not? After all, I am alive to tell you this story.
But there is a maxim in my part of the world, one which you may find enlightening: A man wearing a Givenchy rottweiler sweatshirt is still just a dead man.