"You're so trendy Paquita!"
people from her village used to tell my grandmother when they saw her in one of the dresses that she had created from the first piece of material she came across.

Paquita was fascinated by fashion. The magazines that her uncle sent her from France were her greatest treasure. Browsing through their pages she dreamed of travelling to find beautiful materials, trinkets and golden buttons...

Then, with her head filled with these dreams, she fell madly in love with Antonio, the fabric salesman who visited the village haberdashery once a month. Antonio was handsome, incredibly handsome, and he knew it. He could have had any girl in the village, but he liked the girl who dressed in skirts made from material left over from tablecloths and sheets. One day he gave her a remnant of a flowery fabric and, on his next visit, he was delighted to see that Paquita had turned it into a scarf that she wore tied elegantly around her neck.

For the first time Paquita proved to be not so trendy after all, because she fell in love with that incredibly good-looking man just like they did in the old romantic novels. She felt that her life was seamlessly stitched to Antonio's. But the day he found out why she could no longer fasten the skirt she had made from some old curtains, the man wanted nothing more to do with trendy Paquita, and he was never seen again in the village.

At some point, between one stitch and the next, she promised herself that what had happened to her would never happen to her daughter - she would do whatever it took to enable her to travel, explore the world and fulfil her dreams.

And so it was... my mother, who had inherited her mother's passion for fashion together with her old magazines, moved to her cousins' house in Paris as soon as my grandmother had saved up enough money for the trip by sewing one tablecloth after another.

Paris, the city that had won the heart of her mother, was followed by London, the city that captivated my mother. At that moment London was a tremendously exciting place. Everything was new, fun and exciting. She loved wandering around the street markets discovering treasures and vintage garments with which she created impossible outfits. Everything was permissible.

In London she began to work as a stylist for fashion publications and then came... Antwerp, New York, Berlin, Madrid... From each of these destinations she sent a letter to her mother tucked inside a fashion magazine. Paquita read both with genuine excitement, in spite of the fact that her eyesight was no longer what it had been.

In the middle of all that travelling my sister and I were born, and we grew up among photo shoots, street markets and the stories that our mother told us about Paquita.

My grandmother had almost completely lost her sight by the time all four of us went to Paris. When we climbed the Eiffel Tower she removed the flowery scarf that was tied around her neck, silently releasing it to the wind. The four of us followed it with our gaze until it was no more than a speck in the distance. At that moment my sister and I realised that in some way we would have to dedicate our lives to paying tribute to "Paquita the Trendy" whose wings had been clipped, and to our mother, who had dedicated her life to flying for them both.

Paquita Forever holds a little bit of the two most important women in our lives, our mother and our grandmother. They infected us with their passion for fashion and taught us to be brave and to always follow our dreams.

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