That summer afternoon, I woke up with an uncontrollable urge to do something out of the ordinary. Without thinking much, I put on my long white boots, a pleated mini skirt that danced with the slightest breath of wind, a white knit sweater and a beige coat that gave me a sophisticated look. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought: "Today I'm ready to... go to the pool!"

Yes, to the pool. With all that on.

I arrived at the club like a movie star out of context. People looked confused, but I smiled, as if I were at the Paris Fashion Week show, underwater version.

Without hesitation, I dove in, clothes and all. My boots went blup blup blup and began to weigh you down as if you had two bricks on your feet. My skirt floated around me like a flower in slow motion. The coat, poor thing, seemed to have gained ten pounds of water and was trying to drown me with hugs of soaked fabric.

When I finally got out of the water, I felt like a wet work of art. Every piece of clothing clung to me as if I didn't want to say goodbye.

I still wasn't satisfied, so I started by ripping my coat. My boots became short shoes after they were cut. I still wasn't satisfied. I cut my skirt into several strips. My sweater was the last to go.

It was liberating.