Airwaves - 'Natalie' | Gloria Sophie Wille
Aus Joy Division's Atmosphere entsteht ein gehäkeltes Kleid. Daraus entwickelt sich eine Kurzgeschichte, ein Hörspiel - und im Hintergrund die Frage: Für wen wurde dieses Lied geschrieben?
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Airwaves – ‚Natalie‘

My inspiration


This dress is inspired by Joy Division – Atmosphere.
The top of this dress is crocheted, the Biedermeier-esque allusion of the neck part represents the pressure the protagonist is under, how difficult it is for her to breathe under the weight of her own thoughts. „Good“ and „evil“ cover her neck like a noose. The soft and floating chiffon fabric embodies the lightness of being.
The greater part of this dress is crocheted and illustrates the weight of the bass-heavy song as well as Ian Curtis‘ dark voice.


Short Story


“Have you ever wondered what death feels like?”

I remember how fragile her smile was.

“I often wonder what death feels like. Do you think, we’re already dead?”

We are lying in a park in somewhere Northern Germany
About a year ago we met at a party of a mutual friend. I’ve never seen her before. There was something about her. Something mysterious. She filled the room with her presence, strong and fragile at the same time.
I remember how she came over to me with a bright smile on her face, flirtingly asking me: “Hey, do you want to make out?”

We’ve been dating after this for about eight months and everything went great. We were like Yin and Yang. She was wild, an artist, always partying, always happy. Even when she was sad, she seemed happy. I was amazed by her strength and how light she took life. She never seemed to worry. When I got a job offer 1000 km away from home, there was no doubt she was gonna come with me. For her it was just another big adventure. She was very excited to move to a new city, to start anew. She started looking for flats, made phone calls, was looking for a job in the same city.
One day, it was about a month before we were leaving for Northern Germany, I came home from work and she was sitting on our couch and looked at an open glass of jam. Completely calm. I kissed her on the cheek and asked her about her day. She didn’t move. I went into the kitchen to get some bread “I’m starving, the meeting took over two hours. My boss talked and talked and… I’m so glad to leave this all behind.”
I heard a glass crashing.
She stood in the kitchen door only holding the lid of the jam jar.
“Geez, what was that?” I yelled.
“The lid! Every time you fucking asshole! I told you that the germs will crawl inside the jar and we’ll end up eating them! Do you want to kill me?”
I was baffled.
“Baby, I’m…”
“I don’t fucking care! I don’t fucking care! Do you want to kill me?”
I made some steps towards her, trying to put my hands around her, to calm her down.
“Baby, hey…”
She resisted. She punched me. She cried. She yelled. She hit. She kicked.
This was the day she told me that she doesn’t want to take her pills anymore.
I stayed home with her the next days afterwards. She apologized constantly, assuring me how much she loved me and she didn’t want to jeopardize our future. I took her to a doctor who prescribed her new pills. “Do you really want to come with me? We can do long distance, I’ll visit you every weekend, and if you feel better, you can join me.”, I offered.
“I don’t want to. I love you. I want to be with you. I’ll come with you.”

She quickly made new friends. She was always better at that than I was. Sometimes I called her my little Miss Beauty. You know? From The Beauty and the Beast. “Sometimes I feel like even the spoons like you better than me.”

As time went by, I started noticing little changes. But I figured it was because of the new surrounding and she had to adapt to the new situation. Much like me. I was overwhelmed by my new work, new people, new city… constantly tired.
Her episodes became more frequent. It seemed like she was torn between two worlds. She lost the ability of being present. She was always somewhere else, caught up in her own world.

She didn’t come home one night. I tried to call her several times, no answer. I went out to almost every bar trying to find her.
She was lying in someone else’s bed.
She came home the day after, packed her stuff and told me that she was going to move in with her, leaving me standing there. “I don’t love you anymore. I don’t think I ever did.”
I’ve never seen her so cold, I didn’t recognize her anymore. Her hair ravelled up, her skin like porcelain about to crack, her eyes dark like black diamonds.
She came to pick up the rest of her stuff to completely inhuman times; once she started yelling down our hallway at 3 am because she forgot to get her favourite towel. I knew she did drugs. I didn’t know which ones. I loved her. I wanted her to become the person I fell in love with. I needed her.

A few weeks later she showed up at my work, her mascara blurred from tears. She wore the black oversized sweater I once lend her. “I love you. I’m scared.”
We talked late that night, we wanted to make this work. In the end, we loved each other. That’s all that matters, right?
She was doing better. She even found a job as a nanny not far from our home. For a month or two we were a couple again. We met up with friends, cooked, played board games. She even quit drinking and smoking because she really wanted this to work out this time. I saw her smiling while we watched her favourite movie “Lady and the Tramp”, while she was cutting strawberries for breakfast, while she was painting.

Today we were taking a walk through the park, talking about getting a dog, playfully arguing about the race: She wanted either a German Shepherd or a pug. I was going for either a Border Collie or a dachshund. So we decided to get a Chow Chow. As all of a sudden she stopped and started crying. I held her tight. She covered her face in my arms, sobbing. “I am so sorry. It’s too late.”
“What is too late?”
“It’s too late.”
“Baby, what is too late?”
She looked up. Suddenly she stopped crying. Emotionless. Hollow. A shadow of herself.
“I’m gone.”

“Let’s lay down for a minute. And tell me what is going on. I need to know what is going on.”

“Have you ever wondered what death feels like?”

I remember how fragile her smile was.

“I often wonder what death feels like. Do you think, we’re already dead?”

I don’t know who is lying next to me. She’s become a stranger. She’s not the person I used to love. It seems like the darkness has taken hold of her, dragged her onto the other side. I don’t know this person lying next to me.


Photography: Lisa Altekrüger // Gloria Sophie Wille
Concept//Story//Design: Gloria Sophie Wille
Model: Regina Huppmann // Levke Meyer // Gloria Sophie Wille

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