synagogue of trade

Am writing this under a tree shade in between two churches watching people streaming in and out the buildings their dress so immaculate like there is a secret law on the grounds to push Sunday fashion beyond the usual.

The shoes match the necklace that matches the bungle and to enhance the listening the ear rings too aren’t forgotten. The bigger and more elaborate the better. The hair styles chosen so carefully you feel sorry for the wind that has to get a permit asking the hair to give way. The faces so smooth you feel sorry for the dust as it will be wiped away every 20minutes using the latest and softest cosmetic powder of society measure.

Everybody is dressed to the show in the best know regardless of the age and knowledge. It’s a give and take as everyone looks like they are selling something. The single are on the shelves looking for their Mr./miss better halves and the married are giving the singles every reason to cross the bridge dressed to their nines like twins, the missus shoes match the husbands shirt and his belt match her skirt.

The sky is the limit and the church is the run way and God’s word is the sponsor for this glam show.

The single wear under the ‘come get me’ code as more skin to show equal shorter distance to your future kin. Brought together under the blessing of the almighty. The ladies the dress is above knee length to expose the figure bounding the unexplored Garden of Eden she is. The nails polished with colours of innocence with a strong fragrance to blow off any bad luck. The cleavage holds the knowledge of your future kin and the lips will leave him trips around your high heeled Loumbitins and Givenchy. The church compound is the run way to your future paradise as you move around with a swerve.

The men ditch the jeans if to land and gold on Sunday. Well polished hair is a must and a dark piped up skinny suite is a mast for any prospective suitor. For accessories a nice tech gizmo is a must but car keys are a positive in the right direction of taking her down your aisle.

For the married it’s all about keeping up appearances and living in denial that you still got your youthful exuberance after all these years. For those 5years and below in marriage a baby is an accessory to make your fashion boundaries limitless. The trendiest baby clothe are always in tow. The baby shoes match daddies’ shirt just as his belt matches mummies dress in full kit with wet lips, a curvy bum to hide any signs of child birth. For daddy the grey hair is a no no and the whole family has to have a signature fragrance to plaster the cracks of marriage. You don’t want that sh’t being plastered all over your face and your friends are the mother of your competition yet you don’t wanna fall off.

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