ohh. this blog makes me want to go home and have batik dresses made.

[excerpt]

The shirt, though I love wearing it, does not have the same effect on me. My pale face and my boring facial features simply disappear next to the magnificence of the shirt. When I wear it I am just some white guy attached as an aferthought to a superb shirt which seems to live a life of its own. When I wear it, it is the shirt that rides the motorcycle and walks into restaurants, I merely follow in its trailing cloud of glory.

Yet, when Caro wears it, one does not see the shirt, one sees a Prince of the World.