...ramblings of a fashionable sociopath

Monday, December 31, 2012


It's almost here. My favorite holiday, my day to get excited about winter, my day to give and receive presents...New Year's Eve. Purr, purr, puuuuurrrrrrrrr

This year will be the Year of the Snake.

What does it mean for us? Well, nothing I suppose, if you do not follow the Chinese horoscope.
For those of us that do this means certain traditions must be followed when "greeting" the New Year in order to ensure that this year starts our properly. Russians follow the rules pretty seriously when it comes to NYE.

From what i can see emerald green (the color of a snake's eyes?) must be worn...yeah, that is not going to happen. As I have stressed multiple times I do not accept colors other than black. And emerald green is definitely NOT in m future. Fortunately for me this year is the year of the BLACK snake. Mwah-hah-hah.

Table? Well it bears repeating that the table must be filled chalk-full of goodies and delicacies...Champagne must flow like a river and no guest shall leave the house unsatisfied.

As for what the year shall bring...Well that, of course, depends on how much belief you assign to astrology I suppose. According to multiple sources the black snake is going to be astute in observations and deft in actions. This animal will be a seductive creature, able to resolve complicated situations quickly and easily. However, this snake will also be prone to spending money frivolously which may lead to tensions on the personal front...uh-oh...guess my bank account won't look any better this year either. :)

Famous snakes: Audrey Hepburn, Kim Basinger, Bob Dylan, Greta Garbo, Dean Martin

Cheers to another year, hope your night is filled with champagne and laughter,

hearts, Bellatrix

Monday, December 24, 2012

A Christmas thought...

am working tonight....while everyone is at home spending Christmas Eve with their loved ones I am waiting for another disaster to roll through the door...

On silent nights like these my thoughts revert to my past. My fragmented memories of childhood are limited, despite how happy it was. I remember bits and pieces, never full days or events...but those fleeting bits seem to have stuck permanently in my mind. 

I remember a starry night, like tonight, when my mom picked me up from kindergarden. She put me in my little sleigh and wrapped me in a huge blanket. It was such a quiet and dark night...only illuminated by the occasional street light and the falling snow flakes. As I drifted to sleep I looked up at the sky and let the snow flakes fall on my tongue...The sky seemed took up the entire universe...there was no one around except her and I felt so perfectly safe...happy. 

I saw old churches drift by...benches covered in blankets of lush snow...trees with heavy branches covered in fluffy white. We didn't talk...often we did not have to. We just enjoyed the ride home (me definitely more than her since I was getting the better end of the deal). The holidays were near and we were going to spend them we always have. 

I remember that night so vividly, as if it just happened, though I must have been 3 or 4 at the time. It's funny what events form our memories, isn't it? I remember the snow and the night and I feel loved...I feel closer to my home though I am very very far away tonight. 

I think of my family...of the friends I have met through the years and was lucky enough to keep. I think of my love and where he is tonight.
My mind is full of memories of holidays heart keeps them close. I close my eyes and I am home again.

One of my favorite poems...
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it (anywhere you go, my dear, 
and whatever is done by only me is your doing my darling)...
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows 
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher that soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart ( I carry it in my heart)

And thus with this I wish you a Merry Christmas my friends. May your world be infinite with possibilities and your life filled with love. You are in my heart tonight...and always.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Mon Hiver

It is 82 degrees outside today...and though the leaves are finally turning yellow it does not feel like fall, much less a winter. Yet my thoughts return to a season that seems still so far away.

Two years ago we fell in love during a winter... We spent many nights dancing in the candlelight of our beautiful house looking out on the valley below, draped in pure white snow.

I will remember that winter forever...I saw the sun so rarely then...I went to work before it came up and left way after sundown. I remember long, bitterly cold, nights tempered by a crackling fireplace...a glass of my favorite red waiting for me when I came home. And there was We slow danced while we made dinner and even now, when I close my eyes, I can see his face lit so perfectly by the warm candlelight. We fell asleep in each others arms as the fluffy snowflakes covered the world...slowly...inevitably...completely. The nights were pitch black and oh so quiet. During the snowstorms that ravaged the city it felt as though we were the only two people safe and loved I felt...

 I do not miss that city...much. I do not miss leaving a warm bed at 4am to scrape off ice of my little car and freeze until the air conditioner kicked in. I do not miss the smog hanging low over the city streets suffocating air and sunlight. I do not miss being so cold that no amount of clothing could help me get warm.

But I miss THAT winter. That winter made us...created us...made us love each other and forced us back together when we wanted to give up. I miss our cozy nights of endless conversation. I long for the dinners we created together and the parties we threw for our friends. I yearn for the way that cold winter made us crave each other in a way I had not known before. And I will always...ALWAYS...miss the music. Those songs haunt me. Music is such a key part of us...I cannot imagine our love without it.

I am coming back this winter. I will land smack in the middle of cold January, when the city is ravaged by snow and wind. When I walk outside the gleaming crisp sunlight will burn my eyes and the world will be covered in white. I will jump into the warm belly of our steel animal on wheels and he will take me back...back to our beautiful house overlooking the valley. Back to the candlelight...and the music.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

un solider d'amour

Do you know this fabulousness?? This is ARMY OF LOVERS kittens.

Let me introduce you. A cultural phenomenon in Europe...and strangely, Russia, this group of glamorous creatures took over my childhood with their surrealistic videos, glam costumes and a frequently rotating cast of supporting divas.

The founding members were Alexander Bard, Jean-Pierre Barda and THE Camilla (Camilla Henemark).


5 studio albums, over 20 videos (many banned by MTV) and oh so many delicious memories.

                                                          I was OBSESSED.

There were many times when I clutched their little cassette tapes (yeah, 'member those?) as I ran home to meet my best friend so that we could change into "chic" outfits found in our mothers' closets and re-enact the videos we saw. I never understod the lyrics so I used to make up storylines to the music that in my mind the group was singing about.

I would be a lonely 4 year old orphan making my way on the streets clutching to hope of a happy end and a soft bed... while strangers threw dirt onto my perfectly made up face...

A ruthless solider in a fabulous fluffy skirt, fighting against the oppressors of the world...

A dancer with cat ears writhing to "Israelism"...

A man singing about an unrequited love...

They killed it with every song. Every performance was over-the-top, amaze-balls, sensory overload with an underlying creepiness and eccentricity. Lady Gaga wishes.

Even now, when I grew up, I still go back and watch their videos again...for me they stand the test of time. They are so vibrant, so full of life and deliciously gaudy and yet they cannot be called entertainment fluff. They were incredibly active in promoting gay and lesbian rights at a time when it was still taboo. They were creative because that was their nature not a publicity stunt.

They lived with abandon. They never apologized for being fucking brilliant.
That's why I will always be one of their soliders tee hee

Do yourself a favor and watch.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

and thus a new decade of Bellatrix begins...

One week until I am off --

A city described as a "goth Paris"...which sounds too good to be true. A plethora of dark churches, intricate gardens and, in the spirit of any true European city, days filled with wine and carnivorous degustation.

Itinerary thus far includes Kutna Hora...the church made of human bones.

I die :)

Gehry's amazeballs "Dancing House." 

Mozart in the candlelight in this bad bitch (St Vitus cathedral). 

It goes without saying that modern art shall be found, fondled, and savored thoroughly.

Am crossing fingers for an Indian summer that will allow me to flaunt all those yummy chic things that have withered in boredom in my closet. Cashmere coats...paper thin leather gloves...fluffy sweaters and skintight gowns...finally!
Just as visiting Paris without buying a bottle of eau de perfume would be criminal, leaving Prague without un peau garnet bijoux is not allowed.

This September marks another birthday. Except this time I am a decade older...

As I have mentioned before birthdays are NOT my thing. I do not revel in or embrace them. I loathe time  in general as I never feel I have enough. Enough time with those I love...enough time in places I want to see...enough time to live on this planet, really. But I hope that a beautiful fall in a glorious city perfected by time shall soften the blow.

I am deeply loved. I am healthy and, reasonably, intelligent. I still look sixteen. And this September I am given the incredible gift of feeling like the old me...the way I only feel when I am in Europe. I am given a taste of LIFE as it should be.

Everything in my life is about to become much more interesting. I am now officially an adult and a woman in the prime of my existence. I shall try in earnest to remember that every day and use my powers (mostly) for good. :)


Sunday, September 2, 2012

a new literary love...

Having grown up with books as sacred religion in our house I must admit to a fairly well rounded literary knowledge. Though I have still MASSES of classics to read before I consider myself a true intellectual, I feel confident discussing most monuments of prose.

My poetry knowledge, however, is largely limited to Russian classics...Akhmatova, Pushkin, Lermontov...the big guns. There is a fervent obsession with e.e. cummings, for I feel his writing is the equivalent of Rothko's amazing-ness.
I am, sadly, not up to date on modern poetry mostly because I like poetry that has rhythm...a feeling...a driving force. A poem that makes a statement...not limps along relying on the crutches of hyperbole and "artistic pause" to appear unique. Poetry that can stand up to a good prose is hard to is even less often thought-provoking, playful, uncomfortable or quotable.

Thus I present to you the boner-inducing, stunningly cynical and utterly brilliant Frederick Seidel, "the poet the 20th century deserved." OBSSESSED. 

I want to date-rape life. I kiss the cactus spines. 
Running a fever in the cold keeps me alive. 
My twin, the garbage truck seducing Key Foods, whines
And dines and crushes, just like me, and wants to drive
I want to drive into a drive-in bank and kiss
and kill you, life. Sag Harbor, I'm your lover. I'm
yours Sagaponack too. This shark of bliss
I input generates a desert slick  as slime. 

Friday, August 17, 2012

My Choupette

Do you know Choupette Lagerfield? She is the precious kitten of Uncle Karl and is the it "girl" of the fashion world.

Choupette has 3 nannies, private visits from her personal doctor every 10 days, and Goyard dishes for her croquette and water. Oh, and she knows how to use the iPad (per Karl).
Then there are the never-ending magazine spreads because there are people like me who love reading about this adorable fluff ball. She is a beautiful lilac Siamese that has become the daughter Karl never had. She is adored, spoiled, and worshiped.

True, it is easy to fault someone for lavishing attention and funds on a kitten with no true intellect or personal say that these efforts should be spent on people who need them. But you know what?? She makes him happy. She loves him unconditionally and makes him laugh with true joy. For someone who has lived a long life and has literally seen it ALL, it is hard to find true happiness. To really laugh...spontaneously, without looking around....without worrying about appearances.

When he comes home she runs to him without abandon. When he sleeps she wraps her tiny fluffy body around his head and purrs quietly like a little motor. She curls up on his lap when he spends hours working on his computer. And when he brings home a new toy her playful hunt entertains better than some stale cocktail conversation.

Her blue eyes look up at him when he wakes...and all he sees is a little innocent animal that needs him to protect her, to hold her, to LOVE her. That is all. What more can anyone ask for?

This is my Choupette. A Siamese as well, except she is a sable which means a darker tail and ears with snow paws (little socks) of her front feet. Her name is Kisa and she is already terribly spoiled.

Having been a cat person all my life getting a kitten was never a question of education or readiness. I worried that I would not be able to spend enough time with her...that taking care of her would impinge on my limited and terribly valuable free time.

And she definitely did not disappoint. She needs constant attention...she is always ready to play and is VERY vocal when ignored. She has not honed her leaping or gripping skills and thus scares me with frequent falls and head bumps on sharp corners.
She follows me everywhere. ALWAYS. And even when I am in the shower I am forced to look out from behind the curtain to show her that I have not, in fact, drowned, and am only a few feet away.

She rests her head on my shoulder when I study. And when I sleep she purrs softly into my neck. I am constantly surprised how happy she has made me. When my love is away and my friends dispersed throughout the world, this little kitten greets me when I walk through the door and forces me to take care of her instead of feeling sorry for myself. All she wants is my love. Simple, n'est pas?

My little kitten. My fluff monster who, I dare say, is much prettier than Choupette.

KO: Does she meow a lot or is she a purrer?
KL: No, no, no - everything is done with the eyes. She knows exactly what she wants.

KO: She must have met a lot of people in the fashion industry by now.
KL: Yes, everybody wants her, but I say NO! She is really a stunning beauty. Her eyes are blue, blue, blue. And also her movement is so beautiful. 

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Mirror, mirror...

This is probably going to sound pretentious to you and some may not even get past a few lines...but here goes.

Growing up beautiful is...complicated. Most of the time you have disdain for your face...your body...yet you are keenly aware that you are not like others. Your face is unique. After all, they tell you so, every day. From before you can form a sentence you are on the receiving end of countless compliments, gifts, favors, etc. You get used to people staring at you like an animal at a zoo. It is what you have always known because you were raised by a beautiful mother. Her path was yours to follow.
It is unnerving at times...dangerous at invites more hatred and anger than one could imagine.
Eventually it all becomes background noise that fleetingly peaks your interest...

As you grow up the beauty blooms. Every year, it seems, your face and body give more...prosper more...beckon more attention. The face that stares back at you in the mirror each day is yours...your identity, your true self. No matter how you feel inside it is always there, unchanging, unwavering in it's constancy. You do not see what others admire and see YOU.
This is where the seed of fear is first planted.

Time marches on ruthlessly. And one day you see it - the first sign of age.
That one tiny, invisible wrinkle that has traitorously taken hold of valuable real estate on your face. More shall come soon enough. And suddenly you realize that you are now an adult...the blooming phase shall soon peak and then the petals will start to die. The feeling of regret that you have not even begun to truly live your life makes this discovery all the more unbearable. Can life be so unfair? Have I truly wasted my beauty behind books only to have it start to disintegrate before I even had the chance to LIVE???!!

What a price to pay for intelligence and ambition.

This, my dear reader, is why fairy tales still exist. This is where a girl who always thought herself a Snow White becomes the Evil Queen lusting for virgin blood. It is nature's greatest cruelty that a beautiful woman becomes wise as her beauty is fading. How many virgins' lives are worth one year living with what you know now in a body of your 20 year old self?
This is why skincare and make-up industries make billions. This feeling is not unique to the beautiful nor the rich. Every woman (besides those "close to nature" types that do not shave/pluck/groom and let nature turn their raven hair gray without a second thought) will fight age. Some will fight for blood - gritting their teeth, holding on with bare nails to what is rightfully theirs. Some will gracefully succumb, allowing nature some victories, yet never fully conceding defeat. Where the balance lies is unique to each woman.

I would not be me had I not a strategy. Mine is still evolving, as I am still quite young and not that wise.
The women I admire have given age a formidable fight. Their secrets are theirs to keep...and obvi sleep/water/sunblock are essentials no woman should live without. Was there surgery? Of course! No human can look like this without an outright pact with the devil unless a scalpel was involved.
There were also countless creams, spa treatments, exercise regimens and diets. (Talking about this in the open though is VERY poor form. )
Looking at these women one also sees a common thread. Their eyes give it away.

They enjoy life. Every. Single. Day.
The "fight" is not their life. It is a necessity that must be acknowledged yet never allowed to overshadow time spent with friends and family pursuing life's pleasures. They know that time will inevitably march on.. and the best offense is to embrace each decade entirely. Accept the changes, alter them as much as possible, and stay ahead even but a few years. Because life does not end with wrinkles.
They will not allow "the fight" to rule their daily existence (ahem, Demi). They do not become a caricature of their former self in the hopes of retaining what looks they have left (cough, Madonna, cough).

They know - men will and do still love and want you...women will and do still want to be you. Your beauty will live on forever in pictures and memories of those who love you.

Those young girls you resent for not appreciating what they now possess? They will get old as well. And most of them will let age take them by surprise before they manage to accomplish anything of value.

And if you are really lucky, your beauty will live on in your daughter. She will be smarter...more beautiful...more accomplished than you because you gave her the start your mother gave you. And as her beauty blooms you will take pride in your legacy...your mark on the world that shall live on forever in her children and those beyond. Eternal youth indeed.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Once upon a time in cold Salt Lake...

Did you ever have a time in your life that was so fabulous, so unforgettable that even while it was happening you knew it? That was my time in Salt Lake. (excluding of course my heinous, soul-killing, gut-wrenchingly devastating job at the time)
Though not always welcoming nor warm, that city brought many spectacular/artistic/intelligent/beautiful people into my life that I could not imagine living without. Who would have known that a city known for it's disdain for anything out of the ordinary would contain within it's streets these irreverent creatures who live life like tomorrow it's all ending.  

I miss our theme movie night parties...our races for martinis during opera intermissions..our late night fast food hunting after we danced until our heels broke. I miss candle-lit apartments and jazz..."gothing" it up in the underbelly of SLC. I miss those spontaneous little concerts where music was LIFE and we were young and owned our city like no other. 

I long for those intimate conversations that only happen at loud crowded parties where you get a new glimpse of a person you thought you knew well and you love them just a little bit more. 

I miss the undeniable, giddy, overwhelming happiness I get when I am around these remarkable people. Most of them are still present in my life..some, unfortunately, seem to have been lost forever. 

I miss our music - the music that solidified those moments forever in my mind. Our hip kid/indie cult/"i am uber cool because you've never heard of this band" awesomeness.


Times will be great again...there will be more friends, more parties...more "i can't believe that just happened, please God tell me you got a picture of that" moments...but today I long for a time that once was. And I am reminded that there are many magnificently weird/funny/completely unique and utterly irresistible people out there who consider me their friend.
I am one lucky goth.