news
Twitter Fiction Turns a Fashion Show into Dante’s Inferno for the Modern Age
This Twitter Fiction Turns a Fashion Show into Dante’s Inferno for the Modern Age Ever wonder what a runway collection looks like in the Bad Place? Wonder no more
You may remember artist and Twitter fabulist Jared Pechacek from his dystopian fashion show story. This week, he turned another couture collection (this one’s Gucci) into a deathless piece of literature—this time, a series of linked vignettes about poetic justice in the afterlife for a parade of modern sins.
Perhaps you are familiar with Dante’s Inferno, in which the 14th-century poet describes his trip through Hell, being introduced to the eternal and oh-so-apropos sufferings of various types of miscreant. Well, if you read about the Hypocrites in the Inferno and thought “hmm, what about gilded leaden robes, but make it fashion,” this is the allegory for you.
Their Majesties of the Pit hereby welcome you to the Parade of Strange Mercies. Please withhold your applause until the end, and no photography, thank you. https://t.co/JgOupQkNQw
Marla, our first model, comes to us bearing the evidence of her earthly vanity. Because she fancied her reflection so greatly, she can now admire it without a mirror. When she smiles, so shall it smile. And when she cries out, there shall be two agonies to delight our ears.
Connie here was parsimonious in life, & so in death she remains a closed purse. Observe the twinkle of her wealth upon her coat. Century by century it shall grow and encroach, so at the end of eternity she shall trail a cloud of gold, until she weeps to give it away.
And now Taylor comes to us, freighted with the glitter, the watchful eyes, and the silent mouth of the developed world. The biting mouth upon that purse ensures the same generosity in death as in life; Taylor's eternally open mouth shall promise and never make good.
Marc supported his city's razing of an impoverished neighborhood to build a stadium, reasoning that it was a slum & an eyesore anyway, and a stadium would revitalize the local economy. For him we've selected a hat belonging to a rival team & a coat showing allegiance to nothing.
I hesitate to speak Rachel's particular deserving qualities, for fear of shocking the more delicate among you, but she can never put the snake down, and her clothes are heavy and itchy.
Carol believes all humans bleed red, which is factually true, yet never the point. Now, with the miracle of ectoplasm, you can see how red they really are inside.
This Twitter Thread About a Fashion Show is the Best Dystopian Novel We’ve Read in Ages
For each tear she made someone cry in high school, Erica is assigned a diamond at a rate of per year of her time with us. We kept her backstage until she'd become suitably decorative, & are pleased to see her debut at last, & even more pleased to see the galaxy she'll become.
Jason's bold and daring memo declaring women unfit for the tech world gave our designers an exciting challenge. As you can see, we've decided to wrap him in a shit-stained scroll-symbolizing his words-upon which he shall trip for eternity.
Charlie bullied a popular fantasy author for the conclusion of a favorite series. We do love finding new and beautiful sins, and dragons, we feel, are due for a revival. Look for them to be all the rage in Dis this fall!
I feel like one of them on the inside," said Leigh frequently, always in reference to marginalized groups with distinct decorative motifs. "Their culture is just so beautiful." We've whipped up a mishmash of an ensemble, vacuous yet heavy as despair. You look great, Leigh!
Adam always liked to say he had an inner sassy black woman, so we've made him look like Joan Crawford on a bad vacation.
Madonna once screamed at a waiter for spilling a drop of wine on her Hermès scarf. Since she appreciates them so much, we've put together a full-size version and replaced her skin with it. Good luck finding a dry cleaner in the Abyss!
If you liked Marla, you'll love Ben! The only difference is that Ben laughed at any woman who cared about her appearance while spending lots of money on carefully formulated man-oils. So we let him keep some of his fingers, just to liven things up.
Margot loved to shop at "vintage stores" and made lighthearted fun of anyone who had to wear hand-me-downs. We've carefully tailored a suit of exciting and different prints to make her stay in the fields of wormwood a bit more lively.
Louise went to a poor country and did such a lot of good, including but not limited to giving cola to orphans and reflecting deeply upon their sorry plight, then going to buy some amazing textiles in the market at an absolute STEAL. We're happy to add her shrieks to the chorus!
Emma always said she didn't see color, so we've decided to help her out.
Justin quoted Napoleon Dynamite for years past its fleeting moment of cultural relevance and wrote "Pedro" on his 2016 ballot. Really, where else would there be a place for him? Now, back to the Tater-Tot Dome, Justin!
We are so honored to have the soul of the Republican Party here, freshly dyed and smelling of iron, powdered with a residue of thoughts and prayers. We do hope once their task is done, they'll resume permanent residence here with us. Until then, keep doing what you're doing!
Jamison, internet commenter, fluent in sarcasm, constant demander that all arguments belong to formats he learned in community college logic class, has truly earned an eternity with his hands in his pockets.
Carl could normally be found demanding intimate information from or about abuse victims and then complaining when blocked. We're still not sure he gets it, so we're encasing him in a cube of sandstone immediately after the parade. Blocking him, if you will. Ah, Hadean puns.
And to finish things off, the avatar of the acquisitive spirituality made popular in the West by places like Goop, where if you just pay $3500 to believe hard enough in a misunderstanding of chakras, you can cure cancer.
We do thank Your Infernal Majesties for your attention, and if you would mind opening your many mouths wide enough, we can all return to the dark, warm embrace where we belong.
