The Post-Feminist Apocalypse

Symptoms of decadence and decay in a dying empire are not hard to identify these days.

I’ve assembled a montage of photos from the recent Wasteland Weekend in California City, California.  Read into them whatever you wish.  In view of the ongoing carnage we endure on a daily basis, America’s infatuation — or is it obsession? — with violence, and the unraveling of anything resembling civility or sanity in our politics, I predictably have to wonder . . .

Are we peering into the future?

By the way, since my own fashion sense is a flawed mechanism, I make no negative judgment here. In fact, I find what follows, if not pleasing, certainly spectacular and thought-provoking.

Thus, my insatiable curiosity prompts me to ask:  If indeed clothes make the man (and woman), then what version of homo sapiens exactly do we see being constructed here?

Without further ado, I present you the post-feminist ladies of the apocalypse.

Golly, do they have a copy of The Road Warrior at my local video store here in Japan?

I need to brush up on survival tips.