Each piece of clothes Mike Bourscheid (Luxembourg) confections and wears contains equal doses of joy, absurd and innocence. He invites different worlds and stories into his body and let us dream along with him.

There are different ways to wear your rules around you. You’ll find shoddy arrangements where different parables and morals are strung up, wrinkled, but still keep the cold away. Then there are those tailor-soldiers, precepts sharpened to the teeth, a veritable armament of regulations ready to take on beastly gray-eyed life, by the throat if it must be. But what of the beautiful dreamers? Surely they do not go naked into the fray? Nay, their garments are made of gathered feathers, each from a different bird, and as the wind rustles them, they play their songs of lust and menace, each note an edict drenched in serious folly.


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