all begins with L

what do you get when you put a super power alpha femme architect slash celebrity designer with a punk preppish brand?
a pair of Lacoste-Hadid for next spring. will.kill/save/rob for a pair.

love.love.LOVE.

Best way to prepare for a Turkish exam: flirt in the local language.

Bir dahaki sefere Istanbul’a geldiğinde beni ara = Next time to Istanbul, when you are coming, call me.

i want to work for yoo. i want to work with yoo. and then i want to own something like yoo.

You spit out words that don’t form a sentence, let alone a story. It was indeed a fantasy.

never thought i’d write for a living. but i am writing for a living.
i’m doing copy writing, strategic planning, creating, farting,
in short - everything.

she saw a lion in my cup. and a name begins with s.

i miss you. i miss having someone to share my dreams with. i miss wanking off ideas and having someone wanking their ideas to me. i miss not having to think about dates, i miss talking about food, life, dreams, cats, and all that. so there.

A (said) : I like men in uniforms.
B (said) : I like men in all forms.
C (said) : I like men in hot forms.

“i still don’t get what an old married MAN has that a young woman doesn’t”

“he has a young woman, age 28, and she’s stunning, and i don’t.”

what a line. what a line.

WHY ARE COOL THINGS HAPPENING WHEN I’M NOT IN THE COUNTRY.

i absolutely hate people whose first words uttered when they wake up are “i’m bored” and same goes before they sleep. there are too many things to do within twenty four hours a day,

good food to eat
good books to read
good movies to watch
good music to discover
people to help
people to meet
new people to stumble upon

and museums, they are mostly free you know
and educational
and those kids, if you could spare your boredom and reach out to them, maybe just maybe you could solve your problem and someone else’s as well

god.damn.it.

i finally made the virgin pilgrim to istanbul’s famous club of xx chromosomes, quite a paradox to sexual fluidity so perhaps i should say ‘xx-xy-yy-yx’. i hardly frequent gay clubs for one it’s too punk a scene, often filled with seventeen year olds seemingly eye-lined with thick tip marker pen or forty seven year olds (who drag with mustaches) donning harley davidson leather jackets - theme party stuck in seventies.

but the scene is changing (and i heard the same for back in the motherland), where power suits and studded heels are slowly but surely gracing the affair. so we waited, one hour pass, then two hours, then two and a half when a group of alpha types sashayed into the club, bringing new york (or san frans) to istanbul.

a friend said “i want to live in the l word” - the one show that has single handedly distort my perception of beauty.

i’m not a snob, just a femme fan.

no girls. no married man. I’d say no no no.