It always happens to me!

Everywhere I go I bring with me my visions of beauty and grace, but their ignorance quickly exiles me away again!  I should be a fashion icon!  But these people are too blind to see my skill!  These people are too ignorant to see my dedication!  These people are too dim-witted to recognize my creative genius!  Instead of being hailed as a designer ahead of my time, I am the laughing stock of every nation.

Let me tell you about this one time I tried to enlighten some poor feudal society.  I walked into town after my services were rejected by another community, and what did I see?  DRAB!

Everybody from the peasants on the street corners all the way to the royal guards were covered in bland, boring, and not to mention dull attire.  It was a fashion emergency!  Even the king of this poor land dressed in a red robe that was so two centuries ago. 

I expected a knight to fight a fire-breathing dragon next, because this place was straight out of the dark ages.  They were in desperate need of my services.  So I walked straight through the humble town square and continued on my way to the royal palace.

My bags in my hands, I politely asked the royal guards to permit me entrance.  Who was I?  What kind of question was that for them to ask of me?  Had they not heard of my work before?  I reached in my pocket and withdrew my card.  Jacques Taleour – Fashion Extraordinaire.

They hesitantly opened the gates for me.  Soon there I was face to face with the fashion-challenged dictator of never-never land.  Boy, oh boy!  What work he was.  That red robe on his rotund belly, definitely not befitting of any emperor.  At lelast he could recognize his shortcomings and quickly contracted me to design him a new wardrobe.

I had a special vision for the Good Ol’ King.  He’d be the perfect person to model my new fabric.  It’s delicate threads and fibers could only be seen by the enlightened.  That day I made the appropriate merasurements and sewed together nis new regal attire.  It was a bold move, I know, but what can be more revolutionary than no clothing at all?  I’m tlaking old school.  Back to the basics.  Let’s be free.  We shouldn’t be ashamed of our naked flesh, especially not the ruler of a nation.

Yeah, well this town didn’t appreciate my artwork either.  The crowd was in awe, and I thought I had finally hit upon success.  Until some little brat started shouting the obvious.

“The King has no clothes.”

So here I am.  Exiled.  Again!  My creative genius oppressed and banished.  Pfft!