Christmas in London. New Year in Bali! & Dubai in between

I wish everyone in the world the happiest New Year's in 2012.  

Going back to Christmas in London... Saturday 24th December, my appointment with Sylvia awaited in the afternoon. It was Christmas Eve, and I had invited five friends over for dinner at my place, all at the last minute. Something about that Samurai sword I had picked up in the black cab bothered me; hence, the decision to get rid of it became inevitable.  
What was I to do? Take it to the Police station and say what exactly? Especially having been told it's illegal to keep it at home! I envisaged myself with the police:
'Excuse me, Sir, I've picked up this sword in a black cab, took it home with me and then decided I don't really wanna keep it, so here you are!' Mmm... Perhaps not.
And what if I threw it away and someone found it, only to commit some God-forbidden incident with it? The thought made me cringe. I wondered about leaving it outside a Chinese restaurant; it could come in handy for chopping as the sharpness of the blade shone every time I took it out of the box to have another look at the monstrous tool. Couldn't do that either, as some passer-by could pick it up and return to the evil act. With my fingerprints on! Greaaaat.

I recalled my young friend Salar's words of wisdom... What is found on the floor (or cab, in this case) stays on the floor!  
There was no way I wanted the sword in my apartment, so I picked a large black fabric bag from a well-known fashion house to carry the knife to my appointment, followed by grocery shopping at Harrods and M&S, then handing it to a charity shop on my way home. I am still trying to figure out how I would explain the situation.
By the time I finished all my chores, praying I would not, for some strange reason, be stopped by the police and searched carrying a Samurai Sword around town, all the shops had closed by 5.30pm. Damn!
Still not giving up, I walked towards the Charity shop, relieved I would, at least, not have to face a sales assistant with an explanation. Meanwhile, in my mind, I envisaged a glass door to the shop with a letterbox at the bottom of a wooden frame to fit the box in. I honestly prayed and closed my eyes as I got close. When I opened my eyes, to my absolute delight, the door was exactly as I had hoped, with a letterbox big enough to fit the container of the sword in! Oooooffff! What a relief. Mission accomplished, I hurried home to prepare a table of starters for my dear guests.

My relatively new artist friend Aldo arrived with an introduction to his partner, Nico. Followed by Omar and Bobby, whom I met about seven years ago when they first moved to London. Tila joined, too. Bobby and I were involved in such deep conversation that I forgot to check on the beautiful meal my housekeeper had prepared the day before. When I realised, a good part of the meal was burned! And there is me promising my boy I shall learn to cook for him again in the New Year. Oh well, the most important thing was 'being together', and what was left of the food still tasted great.
After all these years, I finally managed to get to the midnight Christmas mass at Brompton Oratory with my good buddies. It reminded me of my choir days at boarding school.

Despite all the great invites for Christmas Day, I was happy to spend it with Charlotte, Nicolas and their boy. It was a relaxing day where we truly got to talk, and my friends' remarks reflected how far I have come over the years. Nicolas said:
"Haldita, in all the years I've known you, I didn't realise your wisdom. You're always surrounded by friends and enjoying life, but we never got to the depth of your thoughts!"
I answered: "If only people understood that madness is my wisdom. Why take matters too seriously when life is so short. Enjoy. Live and let live. I've nothing to prove to anyone after all."

I had to pack on Monday as my evening flight to Dubai awaited. In the cab on the way to the airport, I texted in answer to Gio:
'Ooooff! Finally, in the smelly cab on the way to Heathrow. I simply just don't get this concept of travelling light?!?'
And that is true as my 28kg luggage weighed heavily on the scales, but thank goodness, Emirates is better than most mean airlines.

Seeing Lora at her villa in Dubai's Al Manara was a pleasure. The four-bedroom house was swamped with ladies from all corners of the world now living there.
Despite my many previous visits, the city of high rises and global ex-pats had felt rather soulless, not quite my scene. Everyone seemed to live there temporarily, with the idea of making a buck or two and then leaving. With all the islands in the world, they still built a Palm Island, all the natural ski resorts everywhere, and a ski slope inside a shopping mall!  

On this trip, Lora's worldly connections over years of working there made me look at the city in a new light. Instead of visiting shopping malls, she left me in the great company of two lady DJ friends. At the same time, she attended to her daily chores, and the lovely ladies of music accompanied me for a pleasant afternoon, sitting by the sea, absorbing the beauty of nature on an almost stranded beach area. The weather was perfect for that time of year, and I spent some time on my own, meditating and stretching while the girls took a stroll on the sand. I took some great shots, which I shall download here soon.


The four of us (Lora, two DJ friends and Moi) began at the relatively new Mahiki Club in the evening. I must admit the sister club in London has never been one I cared to visit, and here, the smokey surroundings with the kind of music I dread hearing made it quite intolerable for my liking. Thank goodness we left to try out the white and modern Siddharta Lounge at the Grosvenor House, then onto Toro Toro, where I saw a London friend who was insisting I joined her at the opening of the London's Movida Club that evening in Dubai (which I thankfully refused) and finished the night off with a nightcap at The Embassy Club; getting further acquainted.

On my last and second evenings, Lora drove me to her good friend Ravi's barbecue at his family's lavish villa. What an incredibly hospitable family. The food was divine, especially those chicken skewers and the company of their friends made my stay in Dubai by far the best I can recall. Once again, my words of wisdom to a gorgeous newlywed couple made a temporary impact. Or so I hope.
The only thing I missed was the company of my brother Soltan, who had been almost my only reason for visiting the city in the past, but he did not live there any longer.

Lora and I had a 4:40am flight to catch to Jakarta. The one-hour stopover to follow on to our final destination of Bali got delayed, and we almost missed our flight having a massage at the airport parlour!

We arrived in Bali late that evening and found the only restaurant serving food at 11pm. Tulip was a Turkish eatery, good enough to feed our hunger.
In the morning, we had breakfast at Bali Buddha, where I saw a good-looking stranger pass by our table. On second glance, I knew exactly who that was. Well, almost. Walked to his outside table, as he sat in beautiful company and said:
"Christopher?"
He pleasantly replied 'no' to my question, hiding behind his dark sunglasses.
"But I know you." I insisted. "What's your name?"
"Seppe." He answered and smiled immediately in recognition, then stood up to greet me:
"Haldita, hi."
Think everyone knows I am shit with remembering names! I am the first to confess that the list of names is endless.


That afternoon, I spent most of the time alone, lying on the lawn at Kudeta, sipping fresh juice, listening to great music, absorbing the sun and observing everything and everyone. Love people watching. Eventually, Lora and Seppe joined me for an innocent cocktail.
In the evening, Lora suggested dinner at her favourite Dahana Indonesian. As we were leaving the place at the end of a deliciously freshly made meal, who did I bump into? The gorgeous Mireille with whom I had been partying in Fabric only a few weeks earlier! What a small world it really is! Wow.
Lora, the couple accompanying us and I, then went on to Metis, a very fancy restaurant where she knew the French owner, for a pistachio chocolate souffle dessert. Out of this world, especially accompanied by a bottle of Chateau Chanteloiseau 2005.


New Year's Eve was dinner in the villa, organised by Lora and cooked by her help here for all the eight of us staying in the house, followed by six of us going to a bar, where I had the Russian artist spray-paint wings on my upper chest. At the same time, we downed a couple of Sambuca shots, and her Argentinian photographer partner took a picture of my 'flying boobs'! Or so I called them.
We then were driven to 'Potato Head', where we had tickets purchased in advance to spend New Year's Eve partying there. Despite the long queue to get in, we cleverly pushed our way to the front of the VIP entrance, and I managed to pleasantly persuade the lady at the door to stamp us through the special entrance! God loves me; he must do.
Through the masses awaiting service at the bar, Lora approached the waiters' area and picked up a bottle of an exceptional tequila to get the attention of being served. As she walked away, waiting to be spotted and stopped by at least one of the staff, she managed to walk away with the bottle without being noticed! All very innocently. We were all far too tipsy to pay too much attention and went on drinking from the bottle all night, along with all the other softer drinks we bought through the night.

So much has happened in my life that I could go on writing forever!

But so did my friends ...  We began 2012 with a big bang of fireworks at Potato Head in Bali! In London two to three weeks ago, even the thought would have been far from my mind.
Go ahead and use your mind's power to make your dreams a reality.

My prayer for us all is ... May God bless us with a Healthy mind and body to overcome any obstacles and reach the top.

Life's but a masquerade!

Your life can be made into your fantasy. All you have to do is imagine yourself in a store filled with masks, and you can pick anyone at any time and open up a whole new way of thinking with whoever you decide to be, as and when you wish to do so. A mask does not necessarily mean a tool to hide behind but a new beginning with the new you. 

I had coffee with a lady I knew from many years ago and whom I bumped into in the Arts Club last week.  
That afternoon, we barely said hello before she began complaining about how hard marriage is, how selfish men are, etc. Obviously rather stressed out. It brought back memories of my past. I did not even want to go down the line of thinking about how anyone in my company felt when I expressed dissatisfaction. Then again, I was probably associating with a different group of people than my present entourage in similar situations. Relationships are not easy, and my friends at the time listened patiently and understandably, as did I on that afternoon.
I realised why we had to meet again. My advice to her was:
"There's a way out of this, and I'm not talking about divorce. You've been married for so many years. Every relationship needs work, be it with your spouse, mother, son or the friends we make along the way. You can't change anyone, but you can change yourself. Try not to let what your husband does bother you. It takes a lot of work to begin. Everything takes practice."
I did try to introduce therapy and the self-development courses that helped me, as in Landmark Forum, which was personally a breakthrough of old habits, acquiring new ones for a better way of living a fulfilled life. But when I mentioned the fourteen-hour-a-day sessions for three days to begin and four days for the Advanced course, my friend was not convinced she could do that.  

How can such sound advice go to waste? Easily. The fear of change is an obstacle one must overcome before making adequate alterations. And yet, change is vital if we want to move on to greener pastures.
We can be so set in our mind to be blinded by the corners of the four walls surrounding us, be it the walls of our homes or our minds. Well, I tried, but one has to get in a desperate state of yearning for change to do something about it.

Another visit to the Arts Club with Aisha was a joyful evening. As we stood by the bar to order our drinks, I noticed the tall figure of Prince Harry standing close by. The boy is adorable with that smile, accompanied by Graham Norton (who hosts a TV show in the UK). I had to stop going straight over to kiss him on the cheek! All I heard him say to a couple he was introduced to was:
"I'm already banned from going to that club!"
Cute.

Saturday night was yet another social call at Fabric! Again. I indeed had some magical times in that club with the friends I made there. I kept looking around me, dancing and chit-chatting with some of the most gorgeous young crowd God could have possibly created, the brightest of minds. I was in total bliss. Marco Carola (or Marco Polo as I called him when I couldn't remember his second name) rocked it till 10am. I was given a staff, Fabric Rockstar band, to get into the DJ booths. It sure was another fantastic night and morning. 
The next day, a friend who was present in Fabric, Greko, Facebooked me and mentioned:
'Haldita, the last time I saw you in the VIP this morning, you were accompanied by an Italian Armani model!'
It made me smile as I knew exactly who he was talking about the absolutely divine brothers who looked after me so lovingly, amongst others.

I managed three hours of sleep Sunday afternoon, then got ready to be on time for dinner at Alain and Romel's, given in celebration of Aisha's birthday. Their heavenly home was warm and inviting with the lit candles everywhere; the delicious dinner and the company of Aisha's and Pedro's friends was a delight. They were amazed at how I managed to make it after a heavy night of dancing, but again, the love I feel from everyone around me keeps me going like a Duracell battery!  
I got somewhat emotional when a newlywed couple expressed how they had worked through their differences and began a new honeymoon period. When I mentioned my prayers for their happiness, Hessa was surprised at my remark.
"Really Haldita? Did you pray for us?"
"Only God knows what I did anyway. Nothing makes me happier than to see people find happiness together."

And today, I had to attend a three-hour course on Speed Awareness! Why? Because I got three speeding tickets this summer. Oh dear. No good. Considering all the years of driving worldwide and being dumped with three tickets in two months.  
At the course, I almost fell asleep twice when I saw the speaker standing above, waiting for me to answer a question she had asked during my nap.  
It was not an easy day as I had to call the plumber again to fix the toilet. My car, which had been MOTed last week, needed more oil signs. To add to my reckless day, I fell on the wooden floor on one knee and slid across the corridor, banging my left fingers on the skirting. Ouch! I can barely type from the pain, but the pain is a matter of the mind as long as nothing is broken. When enduring physical pain in the past, my body became numb to it after a while, and I have worked through the scars in my mind as of the cause. No pain, no gain. Although I'm still determining what I gained from the fall!

No one said life was easy, and you bet it ain't. The main thing is that I learned my lessons well, and the new world that opened up as a result is one that I would not change with anyone, anywhere.  

Going through life's masquerade, every mask I pick has a big smile.

It's not a Destination but a Journey

Christmas or no Christmas, my partying continues!

For someone who has no plans for most of the week on a Monday, it is MDAaaamazing (no stopping me now!) to find events to attend daily on a last-minute basis. That's the way I like it. Aha aha.
After booking my ticket on Boxing Day, I am filled with joy, flying to a warm, sunny corner of the world in great company. Actually, I can wait. Great things come to those who wait! Besides, there is so much happening in London regarding Christmas parties.

Thoughts meander in my mind, like a wind twirling through a tunnel, with many ideas of varied topics I would love to write about. A friend once advised me to buy a dictaphone and speak to it in full-minded moments. I bought the gadget the following week, but it appeared complicated. Mixed with a lack of interest in reading instructions, it has been set aside, waiting to be studied on an actionless holiday, which has yet to happen in the past year! One day.

My date last week proposed dinner at the Cambio de Tercio tapas restaurant, which I had heard so much about. I must admit the food was heavenly. Combined with the fabulous company, the mid-week evening became a feast for the senses.

Where do these days and hours fly? Despite the continuation of late nights, I realised it had been ten days since I got a chance to write my blog, and even tonight, I only got home at midnight with an urge to write, or another week would pass.
I need help to keep up with myself! Again.

Last Friday, the meeting with my partner got cancelled due to a plumbing emergency in my flat. Well, shit happens. Having stayed in all day, I got ready earlier than expected to meet Heidi and Berto at The Brompton Club for dinner. Their friend Arne arrived late, a little tipsy, having attended various Christmas drinks events before the dinner. After serving the food, the restaurant turned into a club, and the crowd seemed too stuffy for my liking, so I suggested we all went down to Scrubs Lane, on another side of town, to hear two good friends DJ-saying at a warehouse. And so we drove to the designated area.

The Loft Studios could only be spotted by the doormen outside the dark road. As we entered the outdoor space, I kept seeing familiar faces of many friends and more to come as we went to the first floor, where the music was being played. It turned out to be a genuinely fantastic evening. Heidi and Berto made their way home and left me with the uncontrollable Arne. Berto had mentioned earlier through dinner:
"Haldita, you've the patience of a Saint dealing with Arne!"
At the Loft studios, every time I was greeted by the vast number of people I knew in the room, Arne appeared from behind and would try to grab me by the neck while I would try to let go of his hand by pushing it aside in a brush. This action continued throughout the night until the 5 am closure of the place. At one stage, I nailed my fingers in his toned arm and almost came out in a rage when I took hold of myself suddenly and started laughing at the situation. Arne seemed puzzled and asked: "What happened?"
There was no use explaining, so I offered to take him home on my way.

Through the crowd, the adorable face of Giancarlo, a new friend I had met at an after-party the week before, appeared; he mentioned a very private after-party at his place, which I gladly accepted but also did say:
"I'm on my own."
As Arne was standing at the bar before we left, observing, he asked:
"So, you got the guy's number?"
I was somewhat astounded by his remark and replied:
"Yep."
I did wonder what makes a guy so cocky? Sure, he was tall, good looking and I am sure, successful in business but he also had a girlfriend I had met before and besides, there is something in the mind and soul of a person that makes them 'sexy', not merely an appearance. On that thought, I decided the only way to proceed was to drive Arne home, which was on my way anyway and not make a fuss.
Needless to say, when I dropped him at his house, he kept insisting I go up for a cuddle! What happened to the old 'wanna come up for a drink' line? Haha.

I successfully dropped him off and continued the early morning at a gathering at Giancarlo's. And I met more lovely people and danced till my tired legs could take it no longer. It was funny that everyone who had been to the Loft came with white paint scattered over their shoes. I decided to keep the white paint on my grey flannel Diors and call them the latest 'Loft Diors'.

I crawled under the duvet at a decent 8 am hour to get a two-hour sleep before the plumber returned to finish fixing the toilet, followed by a photo shoot with Salvator.
At the Loft, his friend Flavio, who knew I was having my picture taken the following day, kept asking:
"Haldita, don't you've a photo shoot tomorrow?"
"Yes,"  I would reply. "Seems I do."
"So," Flavio continued. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be home asleep? You'll look terrible in the morning."
"Darling," I said confidently, "I never look terrible. Don't you worry?"
Flavio shook his head, smiling. 

The photoshoot with Salvator went smoothly, as expected, over a bottle of champagne, as I am not entirely comfortable when faced with a lens.  
"Are you shy, Haldita?" Had asked another photographer earlier that week.
"Are you kidding?" I answered in amazement. "I don't think that is a word you could use in my vicinity. I must learn to look at a camera as a friend and be less egoistic about my flaws. In other words... Accept me." As in life.

I can't believe I missed a great party on Saturday evening, as I fell asleep through the night. I woke up at 2 am and wondered whether I should call my friends and join them, but sensibly, for a change, I didn't.

Sunday was a long session of lounging in front of the fireplace at Lola's, followed by a drink with Sophie at Blakes. Midnight was a decent hour to be home on a Sunday night.
As for Monday (school night for most), I still made it out at 10 pm to head towards the King's Club through the windy, rainy scene of my bedroom window. Another Christmas party, another variation of festive people.  
Tila was arriving directly from Eurostar with her carry-on luggage. The night was a good laugh with her. Aroldo was a Facebook friend with whom we had exchanged comments many times but had only met then. When I saw him standing alone, I moved closer and introduced myself.

Aroldo stood aback, browsed over me and instantly embraced me closely and lovingly. It must have been the longest and most intimate hug I ever got for a first-time meeting! All in laughter, Aroldo said:
"That must be the best laugh I've ever heard. It's because it's coming from the heart."
Talking to him about freeing one's soul and flying above life's ups and downs was delightful. We should not be bothered by others' perceptions of us but live our dreams as we choose.
The night was too good to end, so I offered a handful of like-minded few to come to my place. As we sat in the black cab for a ride home, I noticed a long, rectangular box sitting next to me. Picked it up and opened the box to be faced with a samurai sword, now held in my right hand! A couple of glasses of champagne must have gone to my head as I held the package closely as if it were gifted to me and brought it home. How many times in one's life does one find a samurai knife? Or sword?! It's like winning the lottery. Perhaps not quite. But a good omen, nevertheless.

Another late evening ended, as the early morning began with a bang! One of my guests managed to topple the coffee table over as she leaned on the side to stand up to leave. The broken champagne flutes, the now chipped antique vase of roses, all the many candles and the holders, and the full ashtrays all fell, some on the poor girl's arm and her Alaia dress. We were all in shock! I rushed towards her to see if she had not hurt herself in any way, and thank God, she seemed fine. They left apologetically as I brushed out the carpet to prepare for my boxing with the trainer in the morning! 
All I said was: "No worries. This was not the first time, and it probably won't be the last!" 

As the week continued, what an absolute feast for the taste buds at Ernest's dinner invite to the Kateh restaurant in Maida Vale. Kelly and Gracy were amongst the table of ten, privately laid out for our party in the basement. At Ernest's persistence, I managed to entertain his guests with one of my mad stories at the music conference in Miami, at the invite of Lola, accompanied by two other girlfriends on our 'Pigs on Tour' expedition of the groupies. We learned at the trip's beginning that we were all born under the Chinese Year of The Pig! Only with minor decades of gap in years. Haha

And as for the heading of the page ...  
Never think you've arrived at your destination. Once you've reached one goal, stretch out for the next. Life goes on, and the journey continues.

Domestic Goddess... To Enfant Terrible! MDAaamazing

I learned the coolest word ever last night on my tour around the city!
MDAaamazing... Wow

I'm still discussing this with Judes in the morning at my favourite club ever. Where else? But Fabric bien sure, we wondered why this word had not been heard before!
Simply because the feeling of just a couple of dabs of MDMA blows your mind away with the right music. There is such a warm feeling of love involved from the people around you, mixed in with a blend of music and lighting! How can the world feel better?
That's debatable.
Do you know how rules work? We want to find a way to break them as soon as they are set. 

For goodness sake, I am not encouraging anything that is not so obviously there. It makes me smile in irony for the hypocritical world we are living in. If something makes you feel good, teach how to do it with moderation. Not to fuck up your mind and body but to enjoy the feel and stop thinking I 'need' more. I 'need more'. When you already feel great, just go with the flow, leave behind the feeling of 'need' and enjoy the sensation. Stop thinking further again, put aside the greed for once, and honestly let go.  
Connect with people and be kind to yourself and others.
'We are here to learn and move on... Not judge'.

Really need to figure out where to begin!
I am overwhelmed by a new selection of MDAaaamazing friends I have made.  
When Sylvia; asked me:
"Haldita, you've had your ups and downs, and I have heard your troubled soul speak at times. When someone hurts you. How lonely you sometimes confess to feeling. How you've your downs, too."  She continued:  "Why don't you write about those sides of you?"
That is a perfect point, but I don't look at these times as a problem but as a new way of finding solutions for wholesome living. I may get it off my chest with a very close friend. Then I come home to my nest or feel the love surrounding me wherever I go, and Everything is alright after that. I smile, always count my blessings, and pray for even more love, tolerance, and understanding of how we can all help with our unconditional love to make this world a better, more loving place.  
'Let's bring back compassion... Into fashion!'
My latest Motto.

Lori, whom I met about 4 years ago through the Ex. He had mentioned Lori (a friend of his) was travelling to the furniture exhibitions in the Far East and asked whether I was happy to join her in Jakarta, having never met before. He did mention:
"Well, she's a bit mad, and you two will get on like a house on fire!" 
Of course, I agreed, and our fun friendship began as of the first moment we met. We went to the exhibitions during the day and partied at night, and boy, did we shop! The Dragonfly Club was excellent in Jakarta. We then travelled to Kuala Lumpur, where one of Lori's admirers joined us to visit the vast expo, followed by a cocktail in the street full of bars and clubs, where we downed those sweet drinks and ended up dancing in a club with an international entourage of the male species. All these years later, she reminded me of some hot guy I met that night and only got back in the morning with curly, fuzzy hair like 'Tina Turner gone mad!' 

In Bangkok, there is another more significant fair to cover over four floors. This was followed by one evening at a bar on the roof of a high-rise hotel where we talked in a foreign language, thinking no one would understand; utter rubbish, basically having a laugh. It all began when I started flirting with a tall, handsome guy at the bar, only to realise a transvestite approaching and intimately talking to the guy in their language. They were clearly an item. So we were jokingly saying...
"See? The world's gone haywire! I'm just gonna pretend I'm a man. More chance of being pulled that way!"
Roaring with laughter and swearing away, a guy standing next to us, accompanied by another, began speaking to us in our native language! That was absolutely the last thing we could have imagined. They were cool as I told them off for listening to our terrible language and not coming out sooner! We laughed.
In Bali, Lori rented us a house in the Seminyak area, which I absolutely loved. With its unique boutiques and rows of Buddha heads and stone, decorative garden pieces lie in open-air ground stretches. Paul Robb had a sale on, and we went mad in there.

Lori had texted that she would be in London on Wednesday, and we arranged to meet at Chelsea Harbour, followed by my place, to chill over a light supper and a bottle of Mazis-Chambertin, Grand Cru 2004. Yummy. She was tired and went to bed at 11.30pm, whereas I left the house at midnight by Gracy's persistence to head to the new Le Baron club in Mayfair. I must be mad. 

Thursday was another wine-tasting evening with Charlotte and Nicolas at The Travellers Gentleman's Club. Mr Egon Muller talked gently through each wine we tasted, starting with a Riesling 2009 and ending with a Trockenbeerenauslese 1989. That sure was a mouthful.

I woke up Saturday morning thinking, 'My housekeeper has been away for the past three weeks'. An urge of cleanliness took over me. I rolled a light spliff, put on some excellent music and the domestic Goddess in me arose. I even cooked! Now, that's a first in a loooong time. Called Guilda at 3pm, and she came around for another catch-up and lunch accompanied by another bottle of great wine, Barolo.

I had been soooo domestically correct that the need to riot filled my mind (and my soul, for that matter). I took Ernest's offer to join him, Kelly and Gracy, with a couple of his new-found gem of friends to give Le Baron club another try. I tell you, we confessed to never having been shoved as many times by some young, half-drunk girls without a single apologetic sign! The music was mediocre, and we finally gave up. My friends went their way, and Madam here, headed to Fabric again to see Gabi, dance to Marcel Dettmann in the DJ booth, and just watch this Viking-like playing his Techno tunes.
There was no flirting from my side; he had a ring on.  

Suddenly, a friendly face appeared in front of me, moving from one room to another. It was none but the charming Kaisar whom I met a year and a half earlier, same place, and we had an after party at mine with the gorgeous Miami girls and other people I had met that morning in the club. In July, we saw one another in the Rock Star Club in Mykonos, and here we were again! Once Craig Richards stopped playing, we headed to a house party in Chelsea. Fantastic music for that morning, great company of an eclectic, wild bunch of amigos, feeling the love.

I got home after midday to head to bed with another... You got it, a massive smile on my sunny face despite the clouds outside.
It's MDAaaamazing, where half an ecstasy can take you... The sky and beyond!
Naughty but moderate! Aha


 

A comfort zone without boundaries!

I often wonder why we choose so many boundaries to tackle when life can be made so simple?

In London, there are choices of many self-development courses such as Landmark Forum and meditation sessions to help ease the burden of pain we carry through life experiences. Treat yourself to finding happiness. Live and let live.

The last time Hala and I visited Niel and Rory, we asked about their friend Jal, whom we met while dating a QC (Queen's Counsel); Raymon, who was previously married with kids, was now infatuated with Jal. 
Raymon was a respectable-looking, average-height, well-dressed gentleman who had left his family for his newfound love, Jal, a petite, dark fella, lovely but with a confident attitude.
The last time we saw them was at the QC's birthday bash held at a top London night spot, where at a long dinner table, Jal made a point of going around, showing off his new emerald ring, courtesy of his high-class lover. 
Hala and I often wondered about this rather peculiar affair but happily mingled with them and had fun. We each have different needs in life, we are individuals after all. Who's there to judge?
Now, years later, Rory told us their gossip:
"The world is going crazy, Darling!" He continued. "Despite Raymon's many marriage proposals, Jal wasn't keen to give up his total freedom to domestic chores. You're not gonna believe this, but Raymon got fed up and eventually ran off with their Nigerian male cleaner to an island near Africa and bought him a house there! It's not a good look for my friend Jal here. Know what I mean?"

Oh dear. I can't quite point out a moral to this story! But Raymon had certainly pushed his boundaries, and I hope he finds happiness.

My weekend began early on Thursday, visiting a good friend's showcase at a Notting Hill spot with Ernest and Gracy, followed by dinner at E&O. We then continued the evening dancing with Pedro and his gang at the private Arts Club's compact disco to their live band.
I complimented Pedro on his designer blue shirt with an emblem sewn on. Apparently, some guy had told him his shirt was 'not nice'.  
"The idiot was telling you that he doesn't like it." Complained Pedro.
"Which idiot is that?" I asked my friend.
"The Turkish guy at the shop." Exclaimed Pedro.
"Really?" I questioned. "All I remember was seeing your shirt and thinking, wow."
I continued: "Just goes to show... Guess I don't hear idiots!" 

On Friday, I left home at 1pm and returned at 4am the following day!
There was a Christmas open studio at Cockpit Arts in Holborn, where my friend Sina held a workshop. Many craftsmen and women were selling their products, from jewellery to hats, clothing, furniture, lighting, etc.
Later that evening, the decision to go for an early dinner at the Cow with Isabella continued driving to Kentish Town, where her friend's band was performing at a pub. Still, we ended up at the Oxford pub for a drink and continued to the Groucho Club in Soho. Listened to live piano played by a severe lady who failed to smile, and as though that was not enough, we finished the night off at the Kingly Club, where I got hit on by a drunk, tall Englishman. Not interested, I left the place and finally headed home.

Saturday late lunch was at Troy's new pub, accompanied by Dylan and Salar.
Then, I went home for a nap (which never happened) and prepared for another fabulous night at Fabric. While awaiting Salar's arrival there, I found Kalina and Ryan and mingled with them in the DJ booths. Danced to Terry Francis' music in room 3. I went on to room 2, where Judes mentioned my name to Will Saul playing, and he asked to see me. I saw his brother on the dance floor, which was great, and said hi to Will, who told me of his newborn baby while dj-saying. Lee Burridge was the last DJ in room 1 with Craig Richard. Wicked! I met Lee at the Miami music conference and had some amusing photos taken with him and our gang four years ago. Must say he had aged somewhat. 
It was a while since I had seen Gabi, and she did make it there to see me, which was great catching up, shaking our bodies to the tunes and having a girlie talk during smoking breaks, amongst other Fabric friends I have made over the years. I went there on my own, yet, as another friend texted me the next day, he said: 'Haldita, you know too many people there to ever be alone!'

The lonely life is not for me. I thrive on sharing the good times with loved ones. 
Sometimes, those loved ones come and go for whatever reason. Appreciating the good times and letting go of the unnecessary marks left by tormented souls is essential. We all go through those moments in life.

I mustn't do this or shouldn't do that. It does not serve any purpose but leaves one troubled with doubt. Get out of your comfort zone and do something extraordinary outside your normal boundaries.
If you have anything to say... Say it, but also listen to reasoning. 

I just wanna fly!

You set my soul on fire... I'm alive.

It is great hearing the lyrics, but I can't relate to anyone to romance with, except my thoughts run straight up to the sky, to my God. And I smile. He sure does it to me, 'every time'.

I am again 'Home Alone' after five weeks of family moving in and out of my place, loving them each for their being in my life and those moments of Ooopsies. Well, it is family, after all. Life is to cherish one another; it is acceptable to raise questions of doubt at times of their peculiar behaviours, as long as judgement and expectation do not ruin counting their values. None of us are perfect. The lesson is learning how to handle situations with grace and true love.
The saying maybe you can't live with them. But you certainly can't live without them.

The weirdest things keep happening in my daily life.
Last Thursday, before noon, after a pilates class, I took my car for a wash in the open car park. Being a regular, the boys who work there know me. As I exited my automobile to have the inside cleaned, I noticed the two boys standing close by their car behind mine. The aroma of a spliff hit my nostrils, and I turned around, amazed to see the two boys, tall, in caps, oversized tracksuit bottoms and tight shirts to emphasize their muscly chests, passing a big joint onto one another! It was irresistible not to make a comment, so I turned to the bigger lad and said:
"That sure smells good!"
The boy seemed surprised at my remark and exclaimed:
"That was the last thing I thought you would tell me!"
I smiled and said: "See? You should never judge a book by the cover."
To my delight, they offered to pass around their joint to me.
The scene was too surreal to refuse. I stood midday in the middle of that parking lot, smoking with my new buddies. The two puffs were enough to put a large smile on my face to carry on with the rest of my day. I had only just got in the driver's seat when I noticed the car wash attendants had found one of my favourite black diamond loop earrings, though lost two weeks ago. I thanked everyone and left in owe.

In the evening, I was looking forward to meeting with my Croatian connection and at a lavish canape dinner. With the immaculate decoration of scented candles and the giant off-pink roses scattered around the glamour of architecture at our meeting place, accompanied by superb sushi canapes going around, the company of these wonderful friends made the hours pass as a short, flawless dream.  
Dreams can be reality. Moments that take our breath away need not necessarily be a scene on a beach, where the breeze of the night, brushing against one's skin, blows gentle scents of the evening flower into our sense of smell. At the same time, the eyes witness the sparkling stars in an indigo sky, a moon shining bright as a sprinkle onto the seas. It can simply be a connection with another soul.

Friday lunch was at 202 in Notting Hill with Hala.  
Zuma was the designated meeting bar with Donna in the early evening. Our bonding during the long walks in the countryside had left a sweet reflection in my mind, and I looked forward to spending time with my friend. She is genuine, fun, kind and definitely does not judge others. She had asked Suki to leave her books at home and join us for fun; as we finished our cocktails, we headed towards Notting Hill, one of my new favourite gastro pubs. Waiting for a table in the cramped area did not help our rambling stomachs. I gave my name to the waiter to be put on the 45-minute waiting list, and we drove around every restaurant we could think of in the area, unsuccessfully looking for a table of three. What is this recession they are talking about?  
Finally, we returned to the pub, delighted to be seated immediately for half a dozen Scottish oysters. Well, that was my order.

Next to us were two trendy-looking guys who opened a conversation as soon as we settled at our table. The dialogue among the five of us continued through the meal until closing. Suki suggested a Mexican bar where we could hang out and dance, so the boys came along to the next destination, and when that place closed, we appeared at the Electric member's bar. From a passion fruit martini at Zuma's to the Marguerita, followed by a coffee Petrone tequila with ice at the last bar (need I add till they closed too?!), I was feeling joyful. At our table of seven (by now), Donna pointed at a guy sitting at the bar with a friend in black attire, both staring at me. We looked towards them, and their glances would not leave my way. Even though I could not replace the faces, I wondered whether I knew them. We let out a girlie giggle amongst ourselves without a trace of amusement on the faces of our counterparts. Oh well.

At closing time, it seemed one of the starters had followed me to the Ladies'. As I walked out, he was standing next to the photo machine (yes. There's a photo machine outside the toilets in the club). He introduced himself as Mick and asked if I would take four pictures with him! In the boot. Pourquoi pas! In other words, why not. As we all later stood outside the Electric, Mick asked us to return to his place, accompanied by his older, 'too stylish' male friend. Donna looked at him doubtfully and said: "No. We're going home, and I'm giving Haldita a lift."
Although my feet were killing me from the high heels, which were meant to last for a drink and nibbles at Zuma's, and I ended up dancing and walking around Notting Hill all night long, all I wanted was the comfort of my bed. Still, it was amusing watching Mick pull one of my arms, insisting I go back to his place, and my darling Donna pulling the other arm, persisting I am being taken home by her.

Aren't friends just awesome when they watch each other's back?
I adore my family and my buddies. If we can adopt children to be part of our family, why can't we do that with friends? After all, the only consent needed is their mutual love.

It was so cool of my young friend Harun to contact me when he landed for his short visit to London. We met with one of the twin sisters from their party boat in Hvar, Isadora, at Jack's bar for a nightcap.  

One last thing... This afternoon, when we went by the river Thames with Charlotte and her boy to feed the seagulls with the leftover variety of bread from my family visiting, one of the sweet creatures shat on my hair as a token of gratitude; I can only presume!
Let's see what good luck awaits. I never understood what kind of luck can shit bring?! Haha

Power of positive thinking... Time shall tell.

Postmodernism to... Modernism? V&A

What made me reflect on the past recently was visiting the V&A museum for the Postmodernism exhibit.

This was the era of introducing radical freedom to design. Although confrontational and absurd at times, it began a new way of questioning. During the twenty years (1970-1990), a state of no boundaries in fashion, art and music changed our outlook into an autonomous world where the mind dictated expressions like never before. Yet, this freedom has had a price of its own to pay. The world economy boomed with a culture obsessed with wealth and status, demonstrated in the exhibition by Any Warhol's silkscreen of the Dollar sign.  
From fashion designer Vivienne Westwood's over-sized, layered clothing to Annie Lennox's style in playing with gender norms and photos of Grace Jones' striking poses, I overheard the two ladies behind me remarking:
"You just can't believe she's for real. Can you?"

From new designs in jewellery to crockery, the seductive imagery of film and advertising was demonstrated in a 1985 billboard in Times Square by Jenny Holzer, which read:
"Protect me from what I want". A critical reflection on desire, its cause and effects amid the commerce surrounding it. In other words, be careful of what you wish for.
Jeff Koons, a former commodities broker turned artist, captured the decade's fascination with consumer desire, wealth and power in a bust statue of Louis XIV's copy of Bernini, in a tacky, silver finish, 'a strangely intimidating effect'. 
In this postmodern era of radical expansion of possibilities, the question arises:
'Why can't we be ourselves like we were yesterday?'

The freedom of expression is priceless. However, there is a cost.  
We were looking forward to a new world in the millennium, a better, peaceful era that is an image lost in war, destruction, and greed.  
Do we really have a say in what is going on around us?
They will soon decide to put a camera up our backsides and charge us for breathing, and yet, we are under the impression of living a modern life where artists can display their imagination in any form.

Well... discussing politics is not my forte. Not because I am unaware of what is happening in this world but simply because 'the news' infuriates every cell of my body.

On a more pleasant note, the week continued with an invite from Aisha to a guest-listed event at The Radical Dining Society with a couple of girlfriends. The basement cave was filled with dressed-up people who did not seem to mingle well except in their crowd. A very fit, half-naked man approached us with pieces of sushi ginger scattered over his muscly chest and offered it to us.  
"Come on, Haldita," offered Aisha, "he wants you to eat a piece."
On second thought, I was not going to eat anything off the chest of a stranger in a heated room, so I prompted:
"Now, if this was chocolate, I'd lick it off you," I said cheekily. "But I don't feel like sushi right now. Thanks."
And on that note, we decided to leave the event. I joined my family at a dinner afterwards.

Thursday was a wine-tasting experience in the Palm restaurant of Belgravia. Charlotte invited me to join Nicolas and his friend Christophe at the dinner. The region where the wines were represented was Rhone, and my favourite wine of the night was a Chateauneuf-du-Pape Blanc 2009. the gentle aroma of this pleasant production was so that I could have easily worn it as a perfume, fruity and citrus in taste with a crisp, dry finish. In the red selection, the Gigondas 2004 was beginning to grow on me until the Cote-Rotie 1999 was introduced. It was a grand selection, but I returned to my first preferred white wine.
After dinner, we headed to Walton Street's new bar, which opened as another off-spring from Jack's restaurant and another bar in the same area. Another bottle of champagne was to end the evening before Charlotte and Nicolas left, and Christophe walked me home gentlemanly with a slightly naughty twist.

Friday... A big night again. A party 'chez Haldita' (at mine) to celebrate my sister Hala, brother Soltan and his adorable fiancee Tuba's arrival in town. A great gathering of as many friends as I could comfortably fit in my living room, accompanied by Soltan's playing great tunes and Gloria's unique voice on the piano, followed by a Tina Turner number, which she sang with everyone joining in... 'You're simply the best'. The place was buzzing with chatter and dancing the night away till the early morning hours.

And then... Came Saturday. Another Fabric night with Hala, Shane, accompanied by Louisa, whom I got to meet and liked from the first instant. Also joining us were Ebi and two of his friends. I had my usual table, and Tiefschwarz were playing. I spent the last hour dancing to their music in the DJ booth with Judes, one of the most remarkable ladies I have met. When they finished playing, and the lights came on at 8am, I managed to get an innocent kiss from one of the DJ brothers!

Well, another week is gone, and a new one is beginning. Let's see what this week has in store in our era of modernism.

Your way is not my way... And my way is not yours

It is easy to say 'find your path', but sometimes it takes a lot of work. What inspired me to write tonight was walking home from the cinema with Angel, Hala and Charlotte. The movie in question was 'The Help'.
It took one black woman to gather enough courage to let her voice, suffocated for years beneath layers of pain, to release its way onto the pages of a book, by a white girl's caring persistence. The best part was when the bubbly maid told her previous, snobbish lady employer: "Eat my shiiit!"

I grew up with a privileged background of a household filled with staff; in my father's and grandfather's home and I recall every single loving member being considered as our family. Some of our best times and laughs was spent in their company. We had a chauffeur who could not pronounce my name; it was different, so he called Hala and me. Halas (with a stretch on the a... Halaaaas!
The first cigarette I smoked was from my nanny, at an early age. Nothing malicious! I am sure she thought rather than persist, let me have a puff or two and get it over my system. Well, perhaps that method does not always work, although the majority of us remember how skilfully we managed to try out our first cigarette without the grown-ups finding out.

On the subject of racism, I recall taking my very young children to a London private sports club in London many years ago. It was the end of summer and our dark tan was glowing amongst the pale skin of the swimmers, inside and outside the pool. As the three of us were occupied with the games and fun of enjoying the water, a boy of barely two years of age, approached us, sucking his thumb, lying on his tube and uttered these insults our way:
"I hate you. I hate you. You're black!"
You could possibly visage the look of horror on my face. What makes a child, almost a baby, utter such words of disgust I thought, unless he heard it from his elders. But my outrage was beyond trying to hide the anger in me and I asked the child:
"Where's your mother?"
At my persistence, he pointed towards a woman, standing by the stairs of the pool. I moved closer in the water and asked:
"Is that your child?"
She nodded, totally uninterested in what I had to say.  
But I continued: "Did you just hear what your child said?" And I went on to repeat his words.
The mother simply brushed me off with a hand gesture and uttered:
"Oh! Get lost."
Although this was many years ago, it is sad to think that racism still exists. I am not black, and God knows I try to get as dark as my skin could possibly turn under the sun, but to think how any black person could perhaps bear such insult is beyond me. The best answer to a fool is silence.

I then recalled our trips with my parents and their friends to the most exotic spots of the world every Christmas and Easter holiday while Hala and I were at boarding school.  
On our visit to South Africa, one evening, we were driven to an amazing musical in Johannesburg. As I sat myself down in the back seat of the taxi, that new, latest style navy pants, with a slight silky shine I was wearing tore open at the back and I walked out into the theater with my navy cardigan hung around my waste.  
Our day tour to Pretoria was memorable with a garden full of tall flowers, so clean and tidy, followed by a drive to watch a tribal dance where uncle Has, joined in their circle to follow their moves. We were in hysterics.
We were a jolly crowd and every trip was filled with laughter and great memories.

On our stay at the elegant President Hotel in Cape Town, all dressed up one evening after dinner, the men retired back to the rooms while my mum Angel and one of the ladies in our group, Hala and I decided to pay a visit to the hotel's very stylish disco in the basement.
We were seated on the navy velvet sofas, next to a German couple, whom we noticed by the pool earlier with their two young off-springs, each accompanied by a Filipino nanny. After a short conversation, they insisted on inviting us to a glass of champagne and went on to boast about their convertible blue Royce Roys which they had brought down for their visit, amongst the lady in the long chiffon dress' tiara and the man's diamond buttons on his white shirt, under his tuxedo. They were fun.

Shortly after, Professor Christian Barnard appeared through the entrance of the club with an entourage. Mr Barnard had carried out the first open heart transplant and was giving a lecture at our hotel to a host of journalists flown in for the occasion.
I noticed a young, fit man in a smart suit approaching. He slightly bent towards me, introduced himself and asked for my hand on the dance floor. I agreed. The music was slow and he drew me towards him, held my left hand in his, next to his chest as we positioned our right arms around one another. That's the way it was done those days!
He also happened to be German, working for one of their reputable newspapers, interviewing Mr Barnard earlier. His flattering words grew my smile wider, while I flicked my lashes gently up and down, looking up at the handsome stranger.
Name? No idea. He then asked me to accompany him for a breath of fresh air, in the grounds of our residence. We walked under the dark sky, on the green grass by the pool, towards the ebony ocean, lit partly by the full moon shining upon it.
Being in my late teens, the romance of the moment, the gentle brush of the breeze against my skin and the compliments of the tall, handsome stranger with a manly voice was erupting as a volcano in my being. I was powerless in his gentle kisses. 
He then carried me in his strong arms, as a scene from 'Gone with the Wind' and walked back towards our residence. I felt it necessary to explain my situation and said apologetically: 
"Sorry, but I'm a virgin!"
He became rather irritated at the remark and laughingly said:
"You're joking with me. Right? In this day and age? Who can be a virgin at your age!"
"No," I said innocently, "It's the truth. I am."
Thinking back, thank goodness he did not drop me to the ground there and then! But gently put me down, while I ran back to the disco to join my family.

At the time we visited South Africa, it was during the Apartheid. Perhaps I was too young or was never exposed to any sort of racism at home to understand the real depth of the situation. What was confusing with the dark tan Hala and I had acquired during our visit, it was hard to decide which public toilet; as in white ladies' or black ladies' we should go to. Even the buses were separated for the whites and the blacks. It brings sadness to think such a world existed.

I follow the good Budda's words of wisdom:
No one is below or above me. We are all one.

Free Your Mind and You Can Fly!

Wouldn't it be great if we left our inhibitions behind and felt free to talk to anyone we felt  ke talking to? Just because... 

Aldo and I were walking down the road to Blake's Hotel for a drink with Sophie, and in deep conversation when I noticed a girl smiling pass us by. I interrupted Aldo and turned to the girl, and said:
"You just keep that beautiful smile going. It's gorgeous. It's contagious!"
Her smile grew wider, and my friend looked at me and said:
"That was amazing Haldita!"

Last week began with a lavish dinner at Aisha's. Serge from Mykonos was in town and my friend who could well be one of the top chefs absolutely anywhere, had organised a sit down gathering around her dark wooden dining table, covered with divine dishes of various parts of the world. I could not possibly write a recipe as my passion for cooking died many years ago, when invited to a lavish dinner with the Ex. The ladies, mostly jeweled-up, could not stop talking about their love of cookery and exchanging long recipes and how some made jam and their home-made pickles well. The conversation would carry on through to the end of the night! Thank goodness, the hubbies had to go to work the next day and they never lasted too long. But long enough for me to think, 'I don't particularly enjoy cooking'. Although I did it well enough for many dinner parties and every night for my family when my kids were growing up, when I started working on our business in later years, cooking became a thing f the past. I had a great housekeeper, to whom I taught all my recipes and totally re red from it. But I love the taste of home-made food prepared with love and passion.

Mid week, Hala and I were invited for a drink by Serge, at the bar of the hotel he  s staying at.  The conversation diverted to loving the people we meet, without judgement and sharing the good t es with them. It is not about who they are and what they an give back. Some stay in our lives and come back in the most extraordinary ways and others fly by and life goes on.  
Aisha joined us after dinner at the Arts Club with Soraya and Mazin, whom I last aw in Mykonos. They were isiting London. How wonderful! The drinks continued on with more friends of Aisha's joining and at 1am, we each parted  r separate ways.  Some went clubb g, we went home. How sensible!

Family dinners took up the rest of the week until Saturday arrived... Oh Oh!
Well, Fabric was definitely an option I opted for. At the entrance, who do we see but Troy who had insisted earlier, he was not going to show up that night in Fabric again and... here he was! Cool. Salar and his uncle had shown up in total Hallow n costume and make-up. Salar's cape was awesome!
I wore my black horns on a headband, with the devil's fork to match the headgear, one red and black feather earring and a black Norma Kamali Greek style mini dress.  

Had managed to persuade Janet to join Hala and I, as she had been working hard on a project and could well do with a  ght out of fun with us. While I drove the three of us through the scenic route of the embankment by the river Thames, at the traffic lights by the Big Ben, I noticed the lights of the large clock were off and the hands demonstrated midnight.
"Ah!" I said aloud, "Big Ben says midnight exactly! It's Cinderella time and we're off to the ball.  But why is the light behind the clock off?!"
Hala and Janet got excited, but I then noticed the time in my car and it read '12:33'!
"Gosh!" I gasped, "Big Ben isn't working?!"
"Oh no!" Janet exclaimed at the same time as Hala. "Really?"
"Ah!" I realised, It's change of clock tonight. Didn't know Big Ben stops for an hour till the hour changes. Never thought about it!"
We all agreed.
I continued: "And imagine witnessing this! It only happens once a year."
And in case you were thinking it happens twice (the time change) as Conor pointed out at drinks tonight: "No. Since the next time it goes forward an hour."
Oh well, another fun memory added to experience.

The night con nued at Fabric with great music. As I did not reserve a table, we  ttled at the DJ boot in room one. Michael Mayer was great and cute. Can't believe what I told him:
"I'm Haldita, the horny little devil!"
He smiled at my comment and I danced away, in great company of my buddies but honestly when I think back, all I meant to say was 'a little devil with horns!'  

With all the lovely hugs I get from the security boys on the way to the smoking outdoor area, surrounded by tall trees and buildings, amongst mostly groups of y ngsters standing, I noticed a face. Really... What makes a face stand out more than all the rest of the any men and women standing in a crowd? Is it the energies that draw one towards another. Is it an aspect of the souls connecting? Something to do with past lives? I often wonder. But don't question it too much.  Interesting though.
I walked straight towards him and his friend and somehow, conversation flew between us.  Thinking back Many years, it would be terrifying for me to even look at someone out of shyness, let alone talk to them! Anyway, the past is the past but it is great to reflect upon it and see how much we can all change our thoughts, our ways and our life.

The ace was called Blaze. Absolutely charming. His friends engaged in conversation with me and asked to take a photo of Blaze with us girls. As we posed for a devilish picture, I kissed Blaze's cheek which he seemed to hang on to with his hand. We had a good laugh and went back for more music and dancing. The clocks had been changed and the early morning hours were approaching fast. Our entourage had left the club but Hala and I, before getting home, sat our tired legs on the paved, uneven ground in the Green room which looked more like an open air ashtray, breathed in the freshness of the last October morning, so pleasant and thanked our Lord for absolutely Everything.

I must add, another smiley, beautiful face I got to meet was of Marisa's. She bent down to ask me for a lighter when our eyes met, in that same smoking area. I helplessly told her how  beautiful she is and she responded the same back. She told me her friends often told her, she always smiled and she said:
"I'm grateful and happy to be alive and well... So I smile for it."
So much beauty shone through the wisdom of her very young years.  
If only I could bottle my joy, I told a friend who suggested I bottle my energy and sell it, I would do it by the millions and simply give it away with absolute pleasure. 

Keep thinking... Life is about love... About sharing... About caring.


 

Fabric Anniversary... Not to be missed!

It was the twelfth Fabric anniversary weekend; it was open from Saturday 11pm to Monday 6am!  Not that I intended to stay that long! 

We have a whole house here, with Mum, Uncle Ken and his loving wife, Laura, visiting from the US. I suppose it was odd for Hala and I to leave the apartment at 12:40am, long after their sleeping hour, to go raving. But let's face it, I am blessed with a great, understanding family.  Guess I learned the suitable lessons of non-judgement from them.

Hala and I arrived at the Fabric entrance to find Troy waiting outside for us.  He had texted earlier to say he would not make it due to work. Yeah right!  I knew he would turn up. Fabric is a club, a dark dungeon with hard beats to some, but to me, it is where I learned many lessons, heard some wicked music and got to meet some very cool-minded younger friends. Someone recently told me their aunt is 85 years old and full of energy. When I asked, her secret was keeping more youthful to any age entourage, doing aerobics regularly and keeping a young mind. 'Hear Hear' to that.
I am on the right track there.

What makes my boat rock is being happy and seeing everyone around me feel the same way.  I have met many (well, not that many), but some people whose reaction towards the word drug of any sort is filled with disgust. Yet, they drink alcohol like fish and water. Others take prescription drugs to their heart's content (or not as content as it appears). It seems most people have their vices, but when it comes down to something they have not tried before, they take it into their stride to label another for theirs. So much hypocrisy going on in this world. But we won't get into that! I personally don't live my life for others.  The secret here is moderation.

On that note, we got to Fabric at 1am and danced the night away, from a table of six to a table of God knows how many showed up during the long hours of the night. It was another fantastic time, with a great vibe, dancing to the best of House music, and all the loving embraces. Just about everyone had turned up to celebrate. The list of names is way too long to add! It was special having the young and beautiful Serina join us, especially since we have a good circle of mutual friends. It must be said beauty, to me, forms a combination of an inside and outside aura.
Finally, Aisha and Pedro surprised me with a short visit to Fabric, too!  
Oh, what a night... And morning!
The only shame was that my legs were giving in by the time Ricardo Villalobos began playing at 10am. I wanted to continue dancing, but I could not, and sitting on the leather sofas was not an option. Besides, I had a date in the evening. So... Hala and I left our friends behind.

It reminded me of a story...
Some time ago, I met up with Fabrizio on a New Year's Eve afternoon for a drink.  
When I asked him whether he had plans for the end of the year's celebrations that night, he did not and seemed happy to join me. So, off we went for a New Year's dinner at Isabella's. She had a handful of friends, some visiting London, and after midnight and the big bang, we taxied our way to Fabric. It was a fun night, as always and at midday, I invited three mini-cabs of people over to mine for an after-party. It was around early evening when everyone left except the hunky Fabrizio! It was the beginning of a love affair; the only thing is, mine don't seem to last longer than a very short period!  
Two weeks later, a hint of boredom was daunting to me. The feeling is usually mutual, I presume. 

The last time we met, Fabrizio joined me at Fabric again with another group of friends.  As I was chasing the sound of various DJs playing from one room to another, I noticed Fabrizio chatting to a girl at the bar; I smiled and left.  My motto is 'Never stay with someone who does not fully appreciate the person you are'. That goes for friends and lovers alike. A total waste of time.

Most of my friends at our table had left by the early morning hours, and I proceeded to the only room left with a DJ playing.  As I was dancing alone, one of the cutest guys with curly, longish hair moved closer, and we took on a duo boogie like no other. I was having a ball with my new dancing Latino partner, Carlos. He kept smiling and calling me:
"Youuuu, sexy mother fucker!" In the best of intentions, I am sure. He made me laugh. Carlos also mentioned celebrating his last weekend in London before returning to Argentina. At the club's closing hour, we both realised our friends had left, and I asked him to join me at the after-party upstairs, to which he agreed.

As we passed by the closing bar, he excused himself for a visit to the gents, and I saw Fabrizio approaching from the bar, thinking of going back with me. Don't think so!
I looked at his face, full of attitude, as he said:
"Let's go."
"Go where?" I asked in surprise.
"Your place," Fabrizio answered, sure of himself.
"No." I simply answered. "We're definitely not going anywhere from here. In fact, ciao baby."
As I left his side, my new buddy Carlos walked towards me and offered his arm to accompany me to the after-party. I am no bitch and usually don't get a kick from letting anyone down, but in this case, I did not look back and felt a certain tingle of joy. He certainly deserved what he got.
And hence, that was the end of my two-week lust affair!  

"Darling!" Said once an older lady family member who dressed and behaved eccentrically to what others expected her to. She continued:
"Let people talk! It only means you are interesting and alive. Besides, if they don't talk about you, you might as well be dead."

Gossip is for the weak. Don't get entangled in what others think of you. Be yourself.

Mamma's Words of Wisdom

The warmth and love of family is incomparable.

The weekend was spent at a course with Charlotte to enlighten us further towards our new business venture. I got home on Sunday afternoon to the arrival of Angel, my darling mamma and Hala, who were picked up at the airport by my kiddos. It is such a wonderfully warm feeling to have a whole house filled with their love.

It reminds me of those teenage days, living together in harmony and laughter.  
To appreciate the beauty in nature despite all the difficulties surrounding us.  

My mother's treasured lessons on Life...

Life is precious, my dear, not to be taken for granted, 
birds are flying in cheer, and flowers have been planted.
They are for you to watch, be chilled, be enchanted.
Run wild with your thoughts; leave the heart free to be panted.
Do not waste these times, don't take no for an answer,
and make your moves into rhyme, like a poetic dancer.
Life is not all we ask for,
Not quite the melody of a shore.

Life is a flash, it's lightening, hold your chin up,
follow your heart to the end and make a pin-up.
Half full, half empty, is not essential after all; 

Take the journey with a stride; play it like a ball.
No moment to be wasted,
Every flavour is to be tasted.

Love life like no one has dared before;
don't take it for granted and turn it into a chore.
Dance till tomorrow like no one is looking,
I know you, my dearest, you don't like cooking.
Leave footsteps, like your grandfather did,
It's not all about who makes the highest bid.
Aim high, play deaf to the gossip of the small-minded,
They have too many issues, their beauty is blinded,
By the pettiness of what the poor souls face.

Life is a rhythm; it is to be lived in grace,

And nothing you hear, nothing is a chase.

Continue your life on a positive note, sweet and creamy,
Flow on the sea in a boat can be so dreamy.
Sail across the ocean like there is no tomorrow,
Make life a fantasy; don't turn it into sorrow.

I love you, Mamma. Mum's the word.

Phillips de Pury to the latest Arts Club

An enchanting life created by pure and positive thoughts. 

Art is everywhere!    
There is only so much a girl can do in a day, week, month and with all the choices London offers, it takes time to make decisions.  So, how do I go about it in my last-minute dot-com manner?  Just play it by ear as they say and see where it all leads to.

Last week was filled with visits to art galleries.  
The Frieze art fair is going on this weekend, but with my heavy social calendar, I never made it.  I heard mixed reviews on the works of contemporary art on display at the art fair.  Although I enjoyed my visit to Phillips de Pury & Co, where I had been invited to the Bottletop charity event a year before, this 'nouveau' art is not my thing (or I keep trying to convince myself!)  The proposal by Kristine was taken up, and we headed to Phillips', only to realise we were too early!  Unheard of.  So we drove to the Sprovieri gallery instead, where the works of Avish Khebrehzadeh were on display.  I conversed with the elegant Elisabetta, who demonstrated her private showing of contemporary handmade jewellery by various artists. 

The goldfish was in caption around the bowl while the bubbles circled outside.

Kind of reminded me of my goldfish pets: 'Fish & Fish'!

I named them simply so they can be simple.  Haha.  Can't afford a therapist for them in this lousy economy!

       
Avish Khebrehzadeh

"Everyone would love to wear a work of art," Elisabetta pointed out.  "So now, you can wear art!"

She wore The Bullet gold earrings, cast from a real exploded bullet.  
I asked her to model the green bracelet and ring Ilya & Emilia Kabakov made, which matched her latest green nail colour.

After the enlightening experience, we descended the showroom for a quick hello to Shada at Momo's before returning to the Phillips de Pury & Co gallery.
The massive space was filled with halls of works of art.  Although I don't quite get most of what modern art offers, quite a few pieces took my fancy.

 


The Intertwined Naked Bodies by Kim Joon
(On the left)

And I thought cherubs had wings!  Nowadays, they carry electric swords. 

My mum wouldn't be amused.

As for the flashing lights of the broken heart 

It somewhat resembles a delicious red tart
Pumping love, despite all those heartaches
The bitterness turned into sweet, yummy choc cakes
What is this life worth
If not for the friends we make
What is this love
But for all the breath we take
Jump with joy into the sea of desire
Let yourself free with a passion-filled with fire
Walk and leave those heartaches behind
As there is no sight for the blind. 

(See what a heart can do to me!

In some ways, a hopeless romantic)

At dinner chez Aisha's I got invited to the latest Arts Club. Al was back in town, and Nisa had gone through 'hardship' to book the table for ten. The name of the latest trendy member's restaurant kept popping up in conversation, so with the ensemble of the Mykonos connection to join, the occasion was not to be missed.
When Aisha first mentioned the gathering, I kept mistaking it with Chelsea Arts Club, whereas my friend kept reminding me ...  

"It's the Arts Club Haldita!" Kept saying, Aisha.

"Oh! Yes, so we meet at the Chelsea Arts Club." I repeated.

"No," said my buddy, with the utmost patience while she laughed at my repeated mistake. "The new Arts Club Darling!"

The due date arrived, and I met up earlier in the afternoon with Gracy at Dover Street Market, a fancy boutique store in Mayfair. Another one, Elliot in NY, mentioned years ago when it first opened, and I kept telling him there is no market in Dover Street. Only when I went there did I realise it was not only a market but a fancy store stocked with the latest labels in fashion, as in Alaia, my favourite brand. Gracy, the statuesque beauty with the newest hairstyle, introduced me to her famous designer on the second floor (if only I could remember the name!) till we ended at the top floor self-service cafe, where nibbles and drinks were served for free due to Frieze.
The following two hours passed like a flash, with the diversity of Gracy's friends joining us at different times.

The time had come for us to unite with Nisa, awaiting the arrival of Aisha, Al in a new company, Kam and his lady with the enchanting Naila whom I met at my last party, in the upstairs resto at The Arts Club, situated only across the road from where we were. How convenient!

This time, it was my turn to introduce Gracy to my friends. I must admit, the service at the eatery was so outrageously improper. We did get glimpses of celebrities, but so what?! They can be seen in magazines. The decor was elaborate, but the upholsterer should be sacked for lack of attention to the newly furnished sofas! The drinks took forever to be served. I could go on complaining. But who can be bothered with that? The staff were apologetic and charming. Our main reason for the gathering was great company and plenty of that. It was great fun.
We ended the night in the basement nightclub, dancing with Aisha at the live band before my friend dropped me home. We had such a giggle in the car! Over an envelope, like no other envelope!

This weekend, I am taking a course. However, the night before, meant to be another 'early one', started with a drink at Brumus, next to the Haymarket Theater with Youssef. As we began conversing and sharing stories, his mate appeared surprised with 'his friend' and others. Soon, our table expanded with an adventure of... The table being hit, glass flowing amid the air, a broken piece landing in between the fingers of one of the girls, to be rescued by the first aid manager in the ladies toilets!  She left, hand bandaged, with her partner and the rest of us continued the night at the Kingly Club before heading for dinner at midnight! And that was not the end. Early night, hey?!?

And by the way, I didn't really mean it when I said I had 'no time for sex'! Haha