A woman yesterday wore a dress. She is famous. It was somewhere glamorous.
The dress was made of an undisclosed material, almost certainly not concrete, and covered a reasonable – but not excessive – proportion of the woman’s skin.
There is speculation that without the dress, the woman would have only been wearing underwear although it does seem clear that if she hadn’t worn this particular dress she would likely have worn a different dress.
Or some trousers.
Other than the dress, the woman seemed to be a normal, healthy female human being and appeared happy, although that outward appearance of joy could have been masking a bleak, terrifying sense of emptiness at the hollow nature of a life where wearing a dress is considered the sum of her achievements.
As a result of the woman wearing the dress, it is possible that different women may decide to wear a similar dress, possibly of a lesser material, although, again, this almost certainly wouldn’t be concrete as that would prove impractical.
It is understood that whilst the woman was wearing the dress at an undisclosed point in the recent past, she did, at some point, stop wearing it, removing it for either comfort or cleanliness and that she is now wearing different clothing.
Or she’s naked. Phoooar, eh? Naked.