ashion. We’ve all seen it on the TV. There on the Paris catwalk, seated well-to-dos gaze up in admiration at models wearing crazy outfits. It’s the extreme of couture, kind of like the start of Erzberg in the rain. We all know that out of those hundreds of buzzing 300s on the quarry floor, only a handful will make it to the end. Back in Paris, and we all know that one-metre-diameter hat, perched atop that long-legged model dressed in not much else is not going make it to
