Immediately unsettling, this is a clever and disturbing farce. We see the lonely protagonist developing an obsession with another woman - and, in a series of mundane scenes of commuting, shopping and the workplace, things become more complex. And as little by little, we glean information about the characters we question their agency and respective power.
There’s a person living not too far from me known as the Woman in the Purple Skirt. She only ever wears a purple-colored skirt - which is why she has this name.
At first I thought the Woman in the Purple Skirt must be a young girl. This was probably because she is small and delicate looking, and because she has long hair that hangs down loosely over her shoulders. From a distance, you’d be forgiven for thinking she was about thirteen. But look carefully, from up close, and you see she’s not young - far from it. She has age spots on her cheeks, and that shoulder-length black hair is not glossy - it’s quite dry and stiff. About once a week, the Woman in the Purple Skirt goes to a bakery in the local shopping district and buys herself a little custard-filled cream bun. I always pretend to be taking my time deciding which pastries to buy, but in reality I'm getting a good look at her. And as I watch, I think to myself: She reminds me of somebody. But who?
