In the beaux-arts interior of the palm lined bar, she sits statuesque. You see her from across the room, eyes already flirting with yours. A champagne flute floats to her lips and she flashes an unmistakable smile right at you. The gravitational pull in the earth seems to shift as you make your way over to her domain. Subconscious, the urge to know a femme fatale. You take in her features, focusing more as you come in closer- her neck, her skin, her hair. Eyes still on you sharp, yet soft, like a lasso. Finally, you stand at her table. She motions for you to sit as you slide into the delicate scent of her perfume- top note of jasmine, middle note of amber, a base note of late nights. She holds a pen in her manicured hands and slides over a cocktail napkin with the hotel’s insignia in the corner. A poem is written on top with a keycard hidden underneath. The haiku reads…

lost inside the lounge

desire whispers to you

meet me in heaven

You know me… a familiar face in the cosmopolitan blur. In the lobby, at the party, and occasionally in print. Perhaps from a past life, or even a future one, though time waxes eternal in such a way that it seems futile to recall— some things are simply destined. 
A woman with tattoos and dark hair lying on a red velvet bed in black lingerie, with her head turned and eyes looking at the camera, in a room with Asian-inspired decor.

I love…

Making matcha at home, controversial renditions of classic operas, asian interior design, reading a book in one sitting, archival Issey Miyake, countertop sushi, a dynamic mocktail, an 8pm sunset, powdered latex, the rich scent of hinoki, any dessert with whole cherries, parterre seats, a private onsen, cerebral dishes, a dry champagne, and memories that linger like scent…

From my formative years in New York, I’ve been bestowed the title of international it-girl. A moniker made in the bars of Barcelona and the nightclubs of Seoul, I’m no stranger to a last-minute flight or late check-out. Days of wild aside, I’m more currently known for extended winemaking stays in the Pyrenees or weekend trips to sample every shrimp in San Sebastián. It’s a charmed life… and I’m just trying to take a big bite.

My reputation precedes me


A woman with dark hair, tattoos, and makeup sitting on a vintage brown velvet sofa in a living room, with a piano in front of her. Behind her, a framed portrait of a woman hanging on the wall, and a floor lamp with a beige shade to her right. The cluttered coffee table in front of her holds scattered strawberries, a bottle, various small objects, and a metallic item.