Before the weekend concludes, and I get ready for an early morning hustle to the Daly City BART, I want to write about a woman in a beautiful black sparkling gown. Last Friday, I was blessed with the opportunity to experience the transcending power of Khatia Buniatishvili as she took her seat as the night’s concert pianist for the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra.
It was quite a majestic and surreal experience during one of those winter nights in San Francisco when rain pounded the City and wind shuttered through the streets. My friend and I were sheltered comfortably inside the Davis concert hall where we marveled at the sophisticated lighting that gave us the impression something beautiful was about to transpire.
Then suddenly, the stage door opened, the hall erupted in applause and the ethereal Khatia appeared before us. She stood tall, sensual and proud for one brief moment and then proceeded to walk across the stage toward the piano. Her presence was mesmerizing and I clearly remember the way her hips moved; the way her smile seemed true; and the magnitude of her confidence and grace. Her excellence was complimented by a sparkling black halter dress, beautiful silver 6-inch heels and a silver shimmery necklace. As she walked, it seemed the stage lighting was perfectly positioned to illuminate her at every step. Then, she sat down and became Goddess Devine showing us her talent, her emotion, and her power! Oh my goodness, que poder.
In the process she floored us; we were all so floored by her power.
What I recall from this moment is that she wasn’t physically perfect by traditional standards. She had a little muffin top (no fantasy 6 pack), and a little jiggle in her arms. BUT she was perfect in my eyes because I fell in love at first sight; how could I not? Her talent was beaming, her aura commanded the entire hall, and as she played the piano she melted my heart. She played me what I was feeling and drummed up memories of feelings that have long been forgotten. I heard my feelings of love, loss, and hope; and I heard my memories of the highs, the hurts, and the dreams deferred. With one of hour of her music, Khatia gave me her woman in a black halter sparking dress.
This is Khatia.
This woman wore the dress; not the dress wore the woman.
This woman was before the woman wore the dress.
AND THAT is a fundamental of fashion; the power is the woman, the dress is just an accessory that made her shine.