Paris, here I come!

New season, new dresses, new cuts. If it's the same for fashion, why not for me?

Checking in at the airport and getting upgraded to business class was a treat. But then sharing plane with Hollywood star Penelope Cruz's sister (it's close enough, God damn it!!) I thought it was a sign from the Universe. I'm going to Paris, I'm travelling in style, I'm rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous (shut it!!)... might this be it?!

Paris was never my favorite city, I'm a London guy. It would be fantastic without the french. But I have to admit that I saw more gorgeous men in half an hour then i had seen in a week in Madrid. A friend of mine asked why do they all have dogs, to which another replied, without a shadow of a doubt "Because they're the only ones who can stand them!" I do have to agree.

I did have my French lover. He flew over for a weekend at mines. Gorgeous body but a fucking complicated asshole! Too much trouble for a shag! But a shag nonetheless so my reply to everything, at the end, was "Shut up and bend over." In French... because i can!

First time I came here (3000 year ago!) i stayed in a nice apartment just by the Seine. We would wave at the bateaux mouche strolling by as we were having parties in each other rooms, drinking champagne and inviting models over. It was also the beginning of my international career of mystery. On my last day of fashion week, I was having a walk and doing some shopping when I saw this cute guy on the street. We looked at each other and continued our business. I did my shops, passed some time and when I was coming back, about two hours later, someone tapped on my shoulder. The gorgeous guy from two hours ago was talking to me in this timid french. I understood everything he said but, not knowing what to do and feeling quite nervous, I said to him, with my best british accent "I'm sorry but i don't speak french" (a little louder and opening my mouth a lot so I'd make sure that i looked like a complete twat!). He just replied "Oh, it's alright then, mate. I'm English!". Gorgeous and with a fucking cockney accent. I got hard right there!

He wanted to have coffee with me, get to know me a bit better because he liked what he saw. "But I am a lady!", I thought. And i was back then. Not international at all and no way mysterious! I told him that i had other things to do but if he would give me his phone number i would give him a call. I was still not believing what just happened while looking at the Seine from my room and specially not believing how thick I had been! Here I am in Paris, a gorgeous man just stops me on the street because he thinks I'm dead cute and I tell him to take a walk?! Now that is just spitting on God's face! Let's just say that I had an incredible breakfast with Oliver the next morning... in bed!

Here I am again doing the shows in Paris, with an open future in front of me. New season, new dresses, new cuts. If it's the same for fashion, why not for me? Now where the fuck can I find Oliver again?