It was THAT kind of day. I still have goose bumps when reminding it. After more than three weeks in Barcelona I started to feel quite familiar with the city. But THAT day I decided to go outside the historical area I had been exploring during the earlier weeks. And so I found myself in a concrete jungle, so much different from the streets I had known before. With some hesitations I walked to the modern building of Museu del Disseny de Barcelona. I felt like a unique experience was waiting for me.Before I had the time to realize what was happening, Señor in his late fifties took the control. He was wearing a perfect tailored suit and was equipped with the latest technologies I haven’t seen before. Señor welcomed me respectfully, but with a certain strictness which I didn’t understand quite well.
From the moment he looked at me I started to feel somehow insecure. He accepted the fact that I didn’t speak Catalan, with an obvious indignation. He barely spoke English, as almost everyone in the city, but I was able to understand I could have a coffee in the café. He said something like “You look too pale, I think you need to cheer up before the Journey.” I didn’t understand what he meant by the Journey, but I really wanted to have that coffee.
It was a special café of the 23rd century. All the drinks, sandwiches and cakes looked fabulous, but it turned out that they are not only gluten and cholesterol free, but almost virtual.
After the short while, the body language of Señor motioned me I should rather move on.
The long escalator took me to the top floor, all the time followed closely by Señor. The wall changed its color, when I was passing by, so it matched my jumpsuit, but that didn’t even surprise me. It seemed so much obvious.
Before I turned my head, I had heard horses neigh and was sitting in the fast going carriage. Moreover, I could hardly breath. My body was knitted in a corset with breasts pushed ridiculously up and the voluminous skirt spreading all around.
It was difficult to sit or going through the door because of the heavy gown. I had a big decorated hand fan and was fanning myself. Anything else, including the ability of thinking, was very limited.
Subsequently, my dresses kept changing as well as the furniture around. Fortunately, the empire style dress brought me some relief, when I was in the times after the French revolution. But then again, my skirt raised volume, firstly all around me, and later only in the back. I couldn’t really keep my head up under the weight of a huge hat and the head decorations.
Finally, in the twenties of the Twentieth century, my body could move freely in the dresses. I wished to stay longer in that period, looked at Señor with hope, but he shook his head. I wondered if I couldn’t at least keep the dress and the art deco table, but before I got the answer my dresses changed again. Soon I was a bit disgusted, when I found out we were already in the nineties. I wanted to ask Señor, if I could wear something from Yves Saint Laurent, but no answer came. Suddenly he was not there. I was on the way down by the escalator and at the box office, only the two young smiling girls were sitting, saying me politely goodbye.
©Photos – Daniela Rifai from the Smell of Jasmine and Martin Jesny from Automobilista, Editing and Creative direction – Daniela Rifai, music – Sometimes by Wax Tailor