A lapis spotlight shines on Brenda K. Starr inside a bedroom with a black-and-white checkered floor. She starts to dance.
Wearing tight denim jeans, denim jacket and white bralette, she walks up the steps of a building and continues to dance on the sidewalk.
In the bedroom, wearing a white lace camisole, she lifts some of her hair up as she dances.
At night, she giggles as she dances across the street. She carries her coat over her shoulder. She waves her hand in front of her face as she stands by a graffitied wall. She walks towards the entrance of a mall and points her finger.
She kicks up her legs on the checkered floor. By a bed, man in a tuxedo emerges and watches her as she dances.
On the street, she slides backwards the railing.
Wearing the white camisole, she whips her head around. The strap falls to her shoulders.
With a tight ponytail, Brenda K. Starr walks the city day and night, frequenting the hole-in-the-walls hangouts tourists don’t even know exist. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. Her tough street style is a classic look. The white bralette tempts innonence. The silver band in her suggests a punch if a man’s hands get too close.
The tiered skirt sewn to a black bodysuit seems to be a discount knockoff from the runway. However, the tiered skirt has improved over the decades, becoming sheer and with multiple overlays of material on dresses. It seems to be the first draft of an excellent idea that, for either time or lack of supplies, didn’t come to fruition.
However, one outfit remains incomplete: the white camisole with front lace pattern. Camisoles are an evergreen, casual piece that can be worn anytime of year. It seems to be a mix of the street and runway style, given the setting that was deemed an experimental failure.
Director: N/A Year: 1987
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