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.