A tegnap megrendezett Marc by Marc Jacobs showt, egy magyar modell, Vanessa Axente nyitotta meg, mint first face. Ő volt az első modell a kifutón. Vanessa Prada exklúzív volt kezdő modellként, pont mint Palvin Barbi is... Marc Katie Granden keresztül indítja el a magyar modellek karrierjét a Pradanál.
Vanessát a Prada kampányába is betette.
( Katie Grand a Prada-nal és a Louis Vuittonnál, Marc Jacobsnál és a Nina Riccinél is tervez., minden márkánál, ahol a magyar modellek fellépnek)
Vanessa és Kristóf a Marc by Marc shown
Palvin Barbi 2010-ben a Prada Shown
Még egy fiatal 17 éves magyar fiú is fellépett a Marc by Marc Jacobs shown tegnap, exklúzívként, ami azt jelenti, hogy csak Marc showján léphet fel. Pituk Kristóf modell, szintén az Icon modelsnél van, pont mint Palvin Barbi és Cseke Botond is, akit Marc Jacobs az interneten fedezett fel és élete legelső munkája Marc Jacobs show volt, mint exklúzív, azért repült el New Yorkba, ezt még a magyar Glamour is megírta.
Vanessa 2012-ben a Prada showt
exklúzívként nyitotta meg
Cseke Botond Marc by Marc shown
Marc Jacobs a legújabb showja fináléjában
Marc Jacobs és a legfőbb támogatója Katie Grand, így élvezika cinkosok az alattomos módon megszerzett sikert!
Nézzétek meg a videót, amin Marc Jacobs-nak, az évszázad divattolvajának üzenek!
Minden divatanyagban, amit az én képeimről másoltak, Barbi vagy Louis Vuitton, vagy Miu Miu vagy Prada ruhát visel. Pont azokat a márkákat, amiket Katie Grand és Marc Jacobs tervez.
Quote from my book, "The Secret Love Affair in Paris" ( The true Story of How Marc Jacobs has been torturing me for years)
MY FILM:
Read a quote from my book:
The next morning I went to a café. Marc sent me a text message a minute after I sat down, telling me how beautiful I was without make-up today. I was surprised since I really wasn't wearing any make-up, my hair was straight, and I looked quite simple compared to usually. I asked him how he knew that.
" My senses are very good at detecting beauty." he answered.
" Claire, go out and check to see if anyone followed us here!" I told Claire. I was scared and had a bad feeling. Claire smoked a cigarette outside then came back to report what she saw.
" I think there is spy outside. A man is sitting alone in a car and looking at us like he's waiting for us."
"Oh, my God! I want to see him too!"
The man was sitting in his car on some narrow street. When we passed him he didn't even move his head. He followed us only with his eyes. He tried so hard to act nonchalantly that it was obvious that he was a spy. We walked away and within five minutes we heard that a car was following us. It was him again, the same guy in the same car. When we noticed him, he turned aside quickly. We saw the guy at the Palais Royale later.
This is insane. Why is Marc having someone follow me? Because of jelousy? Doesn't he trust me? I don't get it.
In the evening I wanted to throw in the towel with this whole game. Marc had hurt me a lot. He demanded his photos once again. He didn't understand that I couldn't give him any pictures that day.
It was very late; Claire was already snoring next to me so I turned off the light while I was texting with Marc. When I did he told me to turn the light back on and not go to sleep yet.
" Claire! Wake up! We are sorrounded by cameras!"
"What?" Claire jumped out of bed. She was so scared. We looked out the window. There was a big office building with many big windows in front of us. I had a feeling that someone was watching us from one of them. It crossed my mind that after my shower that day I had been walking around the room wearing only panties. I remembered the see-through curtains on our windows. He must have seen that too! He saw me hal-naked!!!!
" Don't tell me you saw me walking around half-naked in my room or I'll dig a big hole and hide in it" I typed to Marc. When he read that, he got furios and changed his mood on myspace from 'in love' to 'ninja'. Aries always behave like this when they are caught. Finally, we made peace but I couldn't sleep since it bothered me that he wanted to know everything about me. These spies were just way too much. I felt like he was imposing on my freedom, which is very important to me.
Another page from my book:
" I went to meet up with some friends to tell them what happened. They might cheer me up and give me some good advice. Luckily my always cheerful, loud-mouth, cool friend Stacey was there visiting me. You can have really good conversations with her. I told her my story with Marc Jacobs.
Listen to me, Angel. You-HAVE-to-change! - she shook me in order to convince me. I could see the simpathy and empathy on her face.
Wake up! This is September eight and you have been talking to this jerk for ten hours a day since summer! I don't see a room full of Louis Vuitton bags he sent you, like I should if he were for real. He's just using you! He calls you and talks to you because he likes it. You're just a game for him!
My friend, Claire was furios. She kept wondering aloud what kind of jackass Marc was. She couldn't understand that someone could do that to me, how someone could deny my little wish, just to walk his runway once. It wouldn't be a big deal since there were eighty models in the show! Why couldn't I be one of them? Marc called me from on the day of the show because he wanted to hear my voice.
The day of the Marc Jacobs Fashion Show...
I was in bad mood all day. By that time I agreed with Claire that Marc was a jerk and I wouldn't be in his show. That guy didn't care about my feelings or what I felt as I watched the show. It broke my heart. I didn't know any more that I would bear his child or even marry him. I just lay in my bed all day. I didn't feel like going out. I felt like he had shattered my dreams, like he had broken something inside me.. I didn't have a goal in life any more. I lost all my energy. The only thing I wished for was amnesia so I could forget the last six month.
" He really is a dick, Angel. I would love to beat him on the head! He sure knew how to make you crazy for him, though. What a jerk!" Claire was really upset, maybe more then I was. "But Marc sent me something... a video on facebook. There is a little mouse teasing a cat. He's jumping in front of the cat then disappearing. The cat tries to catch him but can't."
The only thing I could think about was him fitting the clothes on the models. I didn't understand how he could have the heart to do that to me. To put clothes on the models, seeing how bored they were of this stuff, and knowing how happy I would have been if he had put the clothes on me. He knew that was my biggest dream, that that was the only missing from my life and that he could easily give it to me. Maybe he doesn't love me. I always thought that the lovesick one would give anything to his love. I decided that I would do everything I could to get Marc out of my mind. I wanted to destroy this strong feeling and never have it again. I didn't want to love him any more. I knew that the person would come into my life, the one who would love me honestly and give me everything and would never be as cruel as Marc had been. The worst thing of it all was the stress. I waited for his call every minute of every day for months. My friends told he that he was a devil because he should have told me that he didn't intend to help me and not led me on like that. I wrote a text to Marc on the first of September, asking whether he would help me be a model or not. He didn't respond, but I would respond to anyone in the world, whether I knew them or not, let alone if I loved them. So he respected me even less than that.
The next day I watched his show on the internet.
Marc designed my style. He couldn't copy me exactly. " It's surprising, Angel, that the design group with so many people who have hundreds of pictures of you in many different styles still couldn't combine the pieces correctly. It seems like they tried to make up for their lack of creativity with a multitude of designers. " Claire declared her oppinion after seeing Marc's clothes. " But they have even been to fashion college and have ages of experience with one of the biggest companies, they earn millions of dollars and they still couldn't copy me exactly. " I responded.
Since I wasn't on facebook after his fashion show, he started to call me on my phone again. He wanted to hear my voice every day. I sent Marc my farewell letter:
" I am disappointed in my dream man whom I loved with deep feelings. I am disappointed in dreams, wishes, about our future together. I thought you were like me... I was too optimistic. I won't speak with you any more "
He did not let me go... He kept calling me and writing me every day... he needed my ideas and my inspiration for his carreer.
My new video and my message for Marc Jacobs:
Read my other quote from my book...
Hot sex scene from the Secret Love Affair in Paris, click here
I am Angel Barta, writer and fashion designer. Marc Jacobs has been stalking me and stealing my ideas for 5 years. I met him first in Paris at his gym. He has been torturing me and obsessively copying ANYthing I do since then. He wants to hide me from the fashion world and keep in a secret that he uses my talent. I wrote more articles on my blog explaining how is that possible that the famous designer copies a young European girl, me.
Watch my video and my message for Marc Jacobs...
Nézzétek meg mit üzentem Marc Jacobsnak.
Angel Barta
Marc Jacobs copied my striped Angel Barta clothes... read how sneaky he was, click here
My book about my relationship with Marc Jacobs was published in 2010. Read a Hot, sex scene from my book click here
My story with Marc Jacobs how he has been torturing me and stealing my designes read the details here
Marc Jacobs copies my photos with the Fanning sisters. He's been supporting them since they were little kids. Read secrets about them, click here
Marc Jacobs with Angel Barta
Marc Jacobs gave my ideas for Dior through his ex-collegue and friend Camille Micheli, read the details, click here
Marc Jacobs' friend Sofia Coppola copied my photos for Dior, read the details click here
Sok cikket írtam arról, hogyan másolja Marc Jacobs az ötleteimet már 5 éve, akaratom ellenére és futtatja a magyar modelleket. Olvassátok el a többi cikkemet is.
Ha szeretnétek nekem segíteni, akkor kérlek osszátok meg a cikkemet, hogy kiderüljön az igazság, hogy milyen kegyetlen játékot űz ez a divattervező, már 5 éve velem.
Tegnap délután jelentette be Robert Duffy, Marc Jacobs üzleti partnere, hogy a New York divathéten bemutatásra kerülő showjukat jövő hét Hétfőről átteszik Csütörtök este 8 órára. Elmondásuk szerint, még nem jött meg minden táska és cipő, valamint több ruhaanyag is hiányzik. Hétfőre fog megérkezni az anyag szállítmány. Előre is elnézést kértek azoktól a divatemberektől, akik már lefoglalták a repülőjegyüket Csütörtökre, hiszen szinte mindenki elutazik Londonba a Divathétre. De megnyugtatásukra közölték, hogy a showt élőben közvetítik majd az interneten, ne csüggedjenek akik nem lehetnek ott személyesen.
Vajon mi áll a döntésük hátterében?
Ezen a héten több képet is feltettem a facebookomra. Lehet, hogy Marcnak még nem volt elég ideje beszerezni az új anyagokat, amiket én használtam a saját tervezésű ruháimhoz?
Talán Anna Wintournak nem tetszett a kollekció és most az egészet újra kell tervezniük?
Esetleg Marc Jacobs fél az újságírók keresztkérdéseitől rólam és arról, hogy miért másolja az ötleteimet és miért terrorizál engem? Marc is tisztában van azzal, hogy szinte minden divatember tudja már, hogy engem másol és rengetegen olvasták a blogomat. Úgy gondolja, ha átteszi a showt egy későbbi időpontra, a divatemberek nagy része nem tud elmenni és megússza a kínos kérdéseket.
Az előző kollekcióját a 2013 nyárit is rólam másolta, részletekért katt ide
A nyáron viselt ruhám anyagkombinációját is lemásolta és pár hónappal később idén Januárban már a Golden Globe-on egy híres színésznő viselte, pedig ez a ruha kifutón nem is szerepelt. Marc Jacobs a kifutós kollekcióin kívül tervezte meg Rachel Weisznek a Louis Vuitton neve alatt.
The following is excerpted from" Fake Fashion" ... My true story with fashion designer Marc Jacobs, the cruel Manipulator of the century, who's been torturing me for 6 years....
Angel: I don't understand something... if you really love me than how can you stand breaking my heart every time you have a fashion show? Why can't I be a model in your show? I would really like to. Marc: Ok, you will be in my fashion show in Paris. You'll wear every single piece of the collection. You're a perfect model for my fashion show. I love everything about you. You are the greatest fortune in this life. You have the treasure of seeing everything in a different way than everyone else, and you always say what you think. I admire that in you!
Angel: And what about the other models?
Marc: You will be the only one in my fashion show. I won't call any other models because no one is like you. No one can compare to you... they're not on your level. You would stand out so much from them. You know, you are really special... there are no words to describe how professional you are.
Angel: Do you really think I am that good?
Marc: Of course, darling. You are way better than Kate. You are the best model in the world!
I was enchanted by his words. In my mind I saw the scene of mewalking down his runway. I believed Marc again.
Angel: Oh, great! Which show will I model in? The Vuitton?
Marc: At the most important and the biggest show in our life - you will parade in my bedroom wearing the clothes I designed for you... because I want you to parade ONLY for me and not for anyone else... I want you ALL TO MYSELF!!!
I was disappointed. He is pushing it again. He gives me something , and then takes it back. I really thought that I would be in his show.
Angel: Then I won't be in your show... you're just teasing me, right?
Marc: No, no! Be ready to leave at a moment's notice. Your cell phone will ring and someone will tell you that you'll be modeling in a really important fashion show.
Angel: I can't trust you any more...
Marc: But you can trust me. You know there is too much stress, ambition, and improvisation in the fashion world. It's not about art any more. It's not like it was when I started. Anyway, let's talk about our love!
Angel: But I still feel like you're just using me and playing with my heart and mind. The worst thing is when someone messes with your head.
Marc: It's not true! I would never play with your mind, never! At the moment, you're the most important person in my life. You give off such great life energy to me, and it's no joke... I need your energy. I love talking to you... I have learned so many things from you in the last year. I became a totallly new person. You're not just a simple beautiful woman... you have a great mind too. I love your brain! You are the perfect woman, Angel! The most perfect woman in the world! You are freedom!
Angel: And you are... darkness, Marc. The light is gone from your eyes. I don't know when you turned bad... when I first met you, you were so different.
Marc: That's great... I love bad things... I design your soul baby!
Angel: You are a real demon, the devil!
Marc: All right, I'm the devil and you're the Angel, and we are in love. Perfect! ... I see my future in you. I'll write my name in the history of fashion with gold letters. If you knew how long I have been praying to God for you to come to me... and now he has listened to my prayers and sent you. I want you by my side my whole life long. You're the ONLY woman I desire. You're my future Angel! I've been in love with you for a while now... I'll do my best to get us together. I'm not kidding! Really! We'll be together really soon. Sooner than you think.
Angel: Tomorrow, in the Marc Jacobs fashion show, will you confess that I am your muse?
Marc: Yes, I will. What do you want me to say?
Angel: Tell the journalists that Angel Barta is your muse... and that you've been designing my style for the past year and that your style has changed because of me. You don't need to say you love me or anything, if you don't want to.
Marc: Alright. Tomorrow the world will know the truth.
He did not say anything about me after his fashion show...
I sent him a message next day...:
"Hi Marc,
It doesn't matter if you take care of your body, do sports, go on a diet,moisturize, or have plastic surgery because if your soul is empty everything you try to do will be fruitless. You should clean your soul first, then your outside would improve.
Ill-gotten fortune you earned by manipulating and using people is not happiness. It's not even real joy. Real joy is to love and appreciate the others. Because of the stench that has been with you for your whole life, the only moment when you got close to happiness was when you met me. Even if you are one of the most successful designers in the world, you still feel like a nobody. The only light, the only joy in your life is what I brought into it. You keep making my dreams come true for yourself, but I'm still happy because my heart is full of love. I am love!
Angel"
Another excerp
Marc Jacobs: I want to make love to you right now, baby! He
is really hard! When I start chatting with you he wakes up and doesn’t want to
stay in my pants anymore. You don’t know how hard it is for my jeans to keep
such a hard thing in the right place! Now… I would touch your hand, be in front
of you, look into your eyes, and caress your beautiful hair and face… I’d smell
the sweet scent of your hair…. I’d bite your lips very gently… slowly
delicately…before we would get lost in a deep, long, real kiss.
Angel: Where are you now? At the Louis Vuitton
office?
Marc: Yes, why?
Angel: What would you think if I surprised you and
went to visit you? I’m wearing black lace thigh-high stockings, a black garter
belt, a pencil skirt and a blouse.
Marc: Describe your underwear for me, baby! I want
to hear what you’re wearing.
Angel: Panties… black in the front and see-through
in the back, and a push-up black bra.
Marc: Oh, I want to lift up your skirt to see your
perfect, round, inviting ass… what will you do?
Angel: I’ll take off my blouse, then my skirt… I
would sit in front of you wearing nothing but lingerie and wait for you to
dress me in the wonderful clothes you designed for me. You would just sit on
your sofa with eyes wide open and admire me…
Marc: But I don’t want to put any clothes on you, I
prefer taking everything off of you and live every moment of true love with you…
just you and me.. face to face.. two bodies one soul.
Angel: Ok, I’ll caress your hair, kiss your face…
then your lips, then under your ears.
Marc: Under my ears?? I love it! How did you know
it? I love that the most! You are a perfect lover, Angel! I’d unbotton your
blouse, unbotton the top button and slowly slide my hands under your shirt and
touch your soft, full breasts, which would get harder with my touch… I’d slowly
go lower and lower on your body then kiss your belly button… then I’d gently
unfasten your bra and offer my face to your breasts. I’d stick out my tongue
and slip it under the line of your perfect breasts. I’d taste both of your tits
at the same time, while I rest my hand on your waist. Then I’d slide it lower
discovering the perfect shape of your butt… stroking the back side of your
thighs, my fingers running between your knees and your upper thighs… I’d slowly
slide my fingers between your legs. I’d stroke your soft skin, up and down, up
and down. I’d let you feel my touch close to your vagina…you’d feel me stroking
everything around it, but I wouldn’t touch it yet.
I’d unbutton my white shirt, revealing my tan chest,
tickling you with my chest hair. I’d take your hands and put them on my pecs. You’d
take off my shirt, tossing it on the floor beside the bed. Then you’ll slip
your hand down inside my jeans and feel my hardening dick through my boxers,
rubbing me with pleasure. Then I’d look into your eyes and slip my other hand
inside your tiny see-through panties. I’d unzip my jeans and take out my
already super hard dick and enjoy rubbing it too, feeling its hardness in my
hands and comparing it to the silky softness down where my other hand is
resting. My fingers would bathe in the dampness. I would gently massage you
with my pointer finger, then you’d feel my mouth burning with desire go down on
you. I don’t just want to simply have sex with you… I want to feel you with
every inch of me, your body with my body, your skin with my skin. I’d like to
give you gifts… lingerie, perfume, clothes, joy, pleasure, cars, love,
happiness, sex, and kisses.
Angel: How can you do any work if you’re always
thinking of me?
Marc: Well, I try to concentrate, but it’s really
hard. I’m a man in love. I think of you every minute of the day.
Angel: How is your job going then?
Marc: Honestly, great. Since you are my muse,
creating is really easy. I am the new Picasso! I am a man with a hand and a
brain. You are the only thing in my mind and it’s really good for my job. You’re
a unique girl, Angel, really honest, modest, pure, and sweet. I love being with
you. The best part of my day is always when I chat with you. Every day, when I
wake up, you’re my first thought…your body, your kiss, your soul.. at night,
before I fall asleep, I think of you… then I dream about you, my muse…
Angel Barta with Marc Jacobs
Another excerp from my book:
The next morning my phone rang at 7:00 AM. When I saw Marc's American number I woke up instantly. I jumped out of my bed. Every time I answered the phone, he hung up. I sent him a text message telling him to stop messing around and tell me what he wanted.
Marc eventually responded to my text. " I was out clubbing with Kate, since it was her birthday weekend... I don't know why but I really wanted to talk to you. What can I do so I won't look like an idiot in your eyes? I'm really a normal guy. I just have weird feelings about us. Trust me, I'm one of the good guys." He was so crazy. He kept sending me texts so fast that I hadn't even finished reading one when the next one came.
" I'm a bit crazy about you...! Maybe I should be a little more restrained." " Anyway, I'm working in Paris... could we see eachother???? As I told you from the start Angel, I have such weird feelings about us... You will think I am crazy...but..." " Where are you now Angel? In Paris or what?" " Honestly, I'm wide awake now, and I'm really into texting with you... and I'm really horny. I did my best before to keep my huge desire for you hidden... Shall I go on still...?" " Or am I being too boring and romantic?!!" " What do you want to do today?"
He did not write me again for two minutes, so I had time to ask him where he wanted me to go.
" We can go where we shouldn't... I mean we can do anything, we can be anything, good or bad...it's your decision... I know what I want us to do... We just have to be brave and do it!... What about being a little bad right now?"
" I am an Angel and I'm never bad" I had time to reply.
" Sorry, I know that you are a good girl but I'm sure that there's a bad Angel inside of you too... I just wanted to say hi to her." He sent another text: " You are beautiful, special, captivating, and enchanting... both sexually and emotionally. This is weird for me, I feel odd telling you this... you are the leading lady in all my fantasies.... I am a very normal man, but the sexual part of me is really into the bad girl inside of you... I can see her and I know what she wants. This has never happened to me before. There are a lot of things I want Bad Angel to do! Maybe the Bad Angel wants to hear everything...?... I want you to go to your bedroom, close the door, and tell me what you're wearing so I can tell you how to take it off... I'm imagining taking off your night gown and exposing your ass and tits.... Oh, darling, This isn't love any more, but it's more than we can understand, bigger than both of us. It drives me crazy! I'm living in you and with you!... Unbelievable, baby! I'm sorrounded by the best women in the world who are all icons and role models for thousands of women, but noone compares to you. You're the sexiest and the most beautiful woman in the world. Only you can turn me on like this. I really love you... and you have to know it and feel it and appreciate it.... I can't believe that you are a virgin! You are so f.cking sexy and dirty, baby! I want you to take off your bra so your nipples will show through your tank top... I'd like to see you playing with your beautiful tits. You'd hold your nipples between your fingers and push and pull your boobs until your nipples get really hard. Then you'd go on rubbing and squeezing them."
Page 300 :
I went to meet up with some friends to tell them what happened. They might cheer me up and give me some good advice. Luckily my always cheerful, loud-mouth, cool friend Stacey was there visiting me. You can have really good conversations with her. I told her my story with Marc Jacobs.
Listen to me, Angel. You-HAVE-to-change! - she shook me in order to convince me. I could see the sympathy and empathy on her face. Wake up! This is September eight and you have been talking to this jerk for ten hours a day since summer! I don't see a room full of Louis Vuitton bags he sent you, like I should if he were for real. He's just using you! He calls you and talks to you because he likes it. You're just a game for him! If you stay as pure and good as you are, you'll never make it in the dog-eat-dog fashion world! They'll just use you and thrive on your creativity. That's not a fairy tale world. They'll do everything behind your back, those leaches. They don't care who they trample on; they'll do anything to be successful. The way I see it, you have two options: first sell your story to a big magazine and if you are lucky the designer will sue you and you will be a huge fucking star. Or, second you can go to Galliano. You feed his vanity and stroke his ego, telling him he's the biggest deal in the world, a genius. Celebrities love that shit. " Stacey instructed me in her usual conceited style. " Tell Galliano, that Marc didn't deserve the success he got since he was inspired by you... and now you want to help him. "
" But I couldn't do that to Marc because I love him with all of my heart and I know that he's a good person and he loves me too. " I responded confidently to my friend.
"Ha! " She laughed. " This guy doesn't love you. That's a fact " She was so sure of herself that the room was even echoing her words. "My sister was living in a nice average apartment in Budapest when her rich boyfriend came to her place for a tea. When he saw her apartment he said, ' Do you live here?' and the next day he bought her a palace in the richest part of the city, though they don't even know each other that well yet."
I was adamant. Stacey couldn't talk me out of loving him. I wouldn't listen to anyone.
A couple of weeks later.....
At that point I decided I would cut off all contact with Marc, but I could only manage a couple of days without him since he was continuously sending me messages about how much he loved me.
" I'm lovesick. I can't work. I can think only of you. None of the women in the world can compare to you! Even if I try, I can't forget you, Angel! You are the most wonderful thing in my life! I talk to everybody about you! I can't concentrate on anything... Honey, I miss you so much! I will be a gentleman with you! And polite! I really love you and I don't want to loose you! I have a strong heart... I will kiss you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week... 365 days plus 6 hours... the complete time it takes for the earth to revolve around the sun. You make me ill... Love is like illness, but if a man looks into his woman's eyes and her smile, that is real happiness. I will love till I die. I never play with hearts! "
So I was at home again in Paris. It’s true
that the bathroom is ugly. On the way to the bedroom we always have to duck our
heads because the doors were made for elves or something. The first night Claire
bumped her head on the doorway five times. But nothing matters because I know
that I’m home again and that we’ll have such a good time here.
Chapter 7
It was Sunday and everything was closed. We needed to find a
hair dryer since the one at the apartment was a hundred year old piece of junk.
We had to go to the Champ Elysées because that’s the only place in Paris where
the shops are open every day.
I felt so free. I had let go of Marc completely. Claire,
however, was very negative. All day long she was talking about how Marc could
have been so heartless by not telling the people at the fashion show that I had
inspired him. She went on about how much time I spent with him on the internet
in the last month, and how good that was for him since he was working at the
time and earning money and getting pictures of me. She talked about how it
hadn’t done me any good at all, not a single benefit. Claire was angry,
especially when we read in an article that Marc was giving sandals out to
journalists after the show and to me he hadn’t given sandals or anything, not
even a piece of grass.
I was trying not to think about all that. I was generating
happiness on purpose, thinking only positive thoughts since we attract whatever
we’re thinking. Our thoughts come into being. If I concentrate on not getting
any gifts from him, then I never will get anything from him. If I imagine a
relationship where my man spoils me with everything nice, then I will attract
that kind of situation.
As I was walking the streets of Paris, I looked at the shop
windows of the young designers and thought about how good it would be to be a
designer. Maybe I wanted that more than I wanted to be a model. After all,
Marc designed my style, which was an unusual and new direction in the fashion
world, and everybody seemed to like it so much. It was proof that there was a
need for my kind of style.
Before working out, I went to the hairdresser. As I sat down
on the swivel chair, a bedbug fell onto the floor. I became panicked and shouted
to Claire.
“Oh, Claire! Do you remember what Justin said yesterday about
bedbugs?!”
“Yes,” Clair furrowed her brow. “Bedbugs show up when there
are spies… so Manuel must be watching us. But from where? And how? Didn’t you
delete the spyware from your cell phone?”
“Yes… but the problem is that he sends me new virus infested
text messages every couple of days.”
“Then let’s wrap up your cell phone in aluminum foil, that way
he can’t listen to what we talk about.”
I went to the grocery. The man was smiling at me and asked, “Is it a holiday today?”
“No, why?”
“Then why are you dressed like that? Where do you come
from?”
“From Hungary.”
“Is that the Hungarian
national costume?” He asked seriously.
“No, it’s the Angel style,” I smiled at the kind old man.
“It’s nice that they think you’re wearing traditional
clothes,” declared Claire as we left.
I was at the gym at six o’clock. It was so good to be there
again. The new water boy was breathtaking. His name was Mario and he was
unbelievably charming and sweet.
I discovered a new style of clothes for working out. Before, I
had been training in long pants in order to hide my legs from men (to keep
Manuel from getting jealous), but since I no longer cared about Manuel’s
opinion, I changed it up. I wore yellow shorts and a tank top. When the little
fore-headed trainer saw me, he was really surprised. He left his client and ran
to the phone to make a call.
Twenty minutes later Blondie showed up –
imagine that. He passed me then shyly turned back. He acted like he was
surprised, but I saw through him. They had already told him that I was there. I
took off my earphones and signaled him to come over to me. He did and gave me a
little kiss. His beard was soft and nice.
He sat on the bike a few bikes away from me and was texting
someone, I suppose Marc. I had to go down to the water bar because I got
really thirsty after his kiss. I was walking through the weight room and looking
to my left when I saw him. Manuel was standing there. What did I feel in that
instant? Hmm… neutrality. Nothing. I knew that his spies
would tell him I was there and he would show up to work out.
I went back to riding the bike. A couple of minutes later Ken
appeared. Damn! The doll house is full today! Manuel was
staring at me from far away. He had put on some weight and become really
muscular. It felt great that I didn’t have to google him to see how he looked
lately because I could see him in person.
I was lost in my thoughts when I noticed the Auntie joyously
waving to me from the other room. Rigo, her husband, peeked out from behind the
door and greeted me too. That man is like a ghost. The
Auntie came to me and asked if I was glad. I didn’t know what she meant.
“I read the article about you and Marc in New Yorker, you know. Are you
happy?”
“Uhh… yes, I guess.” I didn’t know what to respond because I
was surprised she had seen it.
She told me that she really
liked it and that she was a regular reader of that magazine.
Marc sat with his back towards me and seemed sad. He was
like a heroic lover who had been dumped. He waved to the Auntie, which wasn’t
strange since they were passing acquaintances at the gym. Then the Auntie went
over to him and greeted him with a kiss. She whispered something to him that
looked like “Nice girl, son. Congratulations.” She and her husband are spiritual
people and they must see that Marc isn’t really gay.
As soon as I arrived at the apartment I got a
text message – in French – on Claire’s new phone number, which no one knew other
than me. It asked me how I was. I knew that it could only be Marc.
I asked him what he wanted.
“I
don’t know if the time has come yet.” The weird reply
came. Claire told me not to answer him, but I just had to. I wanted to convince
him to confess that he really was Marc.
The next day I woke up to a text message from Marc, saying
that he loved me. It was only six in the morning but he was already up. I
responded to him:
“I need a romantic man who invites me to dinner and sends me a
dress in a big box with a rose and a letter.”
“I’m like that…
a nice restaurant, a rose, box of chocolates, and a letter under it.”
I was so happy since it would have been great to really go to
dinner with Marc and I knew he would really bring chocolate. It would be so
wonderful. I went back to sleep because I was very tired.
Around eleven I set off with Claire to discover this part of
Le Marais.
Our whole day was so good. We went to an Italian restaurant
near the Pompidou Center. All three waiters were flirting with me, which I
enjoyed. I was in such a good mood that I wrote to Manuel.
“How is your work going? If you don’t bring anything to the gym,
for example, chocolates for me, or if you don’t ask me if I’m thirsty, then I
will be a sex bomb, wearing high-waisted gold go-go shorts. If only you knew
what will be written on my t-shirt… the manager of the restaurant just sent me
chocolate cake, although I haven’t even smiled at him. Do you see how much
people love me?”
I wrote that I needed
a normal relationship with an affectionate man who respects me. I said I’d let
him fly away from me.
“I respect you and have never thought bad
things about you, princess.” He replied.
I went to the gym walking on air in my black super-mini shorts
(with panties under them, of course). When men saw me they laughed to each other
in such a naughty way that they almost devoured me with their stares. They liked
that I was sexier now. The other women always wear long pants, all but one who
wears high-waisted shorts with her tops.
I went on with the leg-opening machine. When I sat down I saw
that Marc was standing across the room. Meanwhile, the manager Chris brought
some guys to the Date Place. He was in a really good mood and joking. When he
looked at me his face, which isn’t really wrinkled and is pretty youthful
looking, looked as if he’d had Botox, he was so happy to see me. He sees me and
he’s glowing, his eyes sparkle and radiate joy.
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