Airport Girl

My skin has soaked up an entire pot of Creme de La Mer in just under two months, and I still look like someone’s PR nightmare.  But at least I have Martin Margela arms now.

Life on the road is tough. 

 I just want to go home now and recover, and take long baths whilst reading Grazia or internet shop for  Lingerie. My mind is totally frazzled.

Travelling economy and staying in bizarre economy hotels all over Europe whilst expected to deliver uber objectives, manage people's expectations and work 16 hour days is not a good combo. Its fine for a week, but when it goes on for weeks and weeks, it really wears you down.   

Don’t be afraid to be a diva, is all I can say.  Pious sucks and is totally counterproductive. Beware of Generation Y office assistants who are in charge of your accomodation and travel bookings - they will fuck it up royally, and will also be arrogant when you confront them about it.  Skanks.

Anyway – enough doom and gloom. I eye flirted with a Prime Minister the other day. Can’t say who, but he was quite cute and young actually. All that happened was that as he was walking up to me to shake my hand before a closed meeting in his office,  and we maintained eye contact for “more than is normally necessary.” But I guess its all in  my head of state really.

So – more travelling  today, and I spotted this hottie walking around and did a polka dot by asking if I could photograph her.  Because I'm not a photographer, I feel like I haven't captured how gorgeous she looked in the flesh, and how great her skin was. Anyway – here is AIRPORT GIRL.