Thursday, April 25, 2024

Anima e nuvole / Soul and numbs

 






E di tutti questi sensi impazziti che rimane?

cinestesia assurda...

solo un'ombra dispersa di noi,

la riluttanza di fronte al passare del tempo...

voglia irrefrenabile di sentirsi sempre giovani,

di fermare la corsa

e forse attenderci.

sarebbe entusiasmante fermare la macchina del tempo,

che invece inesorabilmente avanza.

ma questa è la strada

per sentirsi imperituri.

esplosione di vita e chi se ne importa...

amaro rimpianto dell'età verginale

noi siamo quel che siamo

e tutto il resto trapassa...

l'essere umano, l'essere animale

preda degli istinti ci sentiamo impareggiabili

ma c'è qualcosa che manca...

la spensieratezza forse

o la poliedricità di un bambino assente

e ci vediamo sempre come la corrente del fiume

l'euforia di un momento.

scalzi,

indifesi,

infuocati.

la stella del mattino resta a guardare

e noi tralasciamo le nostre idiosincrasie.

stiamo bene ma domani chissà

sono solo anima e nuvole

quello che ci portiamo dentro

 e che domani forse sarà ancora,

o forse no.

il guerriero è stanco,

affonda nell'estraneità dell'impercettibilità fantasmagorica in cui vivo,

perchè non bisogna esserci comunque sia

e perchè non sempre si ha bisogno di una direzione.

anime e nuvole

ci si sopraeleva per ritagliarci uno spazio,

riflesso del nostro mondo interiore

ma che ritroviamo solo nell'astrattezza di un bagliore,

in cui siamo solo io e te,

e tutto il resto non conta.



And of all these freaked out senses what does remain?

absurd kinesthesia...

just a scattered shadow of us,

the reluctance in front of the passing of time...

unrestrainable willingness of feeling forever young,

to stop the race

and maybe holding on.

It would be thrilling to arrest the time machine,

that instead inexorably advances.

But this is the way

to feel unperishing.

Explosion of life and who cares?.

Bitter regret of the virginal age

we are what we are

and all the rest passes through..

being human, being animal

prey of the instincts we feel ourselves incomparable 

but there's something lacking...

maybe the jauntiness

or the versatility of an absent child

and we always see ourselves as the current of a streamflow

the euphoria of a moment.

barefoot,

harmless,

in fire.

The morning star stands out to watch

and we leave out our idiosyncrasies.

We're fine but who knows about tomorow

these are just soul and numbs

what we bring in ourselves

 ant maybe tomorrow will be so again,

or maybe not.

The warrior is weary,

he plunges in the strangeness of the phantasmagorical imperceptibility in which I live,

because you don't always have to be there no matter what

 and because you don't always need a direction.

Souls and numbs

one builds on top to carve out a space,

reflection of our inner world

but that we find out just in the abstractness of a glare,

where it's just me and you,

and nothing else matters.






Sunday, April 14, 2024

Volo di farfalla/ Butterfly's flight







Era una botta soltanto?

Attitudine spenta…

E se non ci sarai

Non ci sarà più spazio per la solitudine

E se non ci sarai

Non ci sarà più posto per la carne…

Se ci sarai

Mi librerò in un volo di farfalla.


Has it been just a fuck?

exstinguished attitude…

and if you won't be here

it won't be any more room for solitude

and if you won't be here

there won't be any space for flesh

if you'll be here

I will hover myself on a butterfly's flight..

Saturday, February 3, 2024

Cometa per sempre - Forever Comet

 





Quando pensi che è finita non lo dici davvero

Perché si cerca di non interrompere del tutto i legami

Tenendo tra le dita un filo impercettibile in onore di quello che siamo stati o che si è....legami?

Ebbene…Sono solamente con un pozzo di ricordi,

A non riuscire a reinventare né la vita mia

né tanto meno quella degli altri intorno a me.

Sono a un punto morto, dannazione!

Ma uno che ti buca il cuore…Dov’è?

 E se vivessi solo l’attimo o giorno per giorno

Che significato avrebbe?

Ci credevo in gioventù ma ora sono stanca…voglio di più!

È solo rabbia inespressa, frammista a rassegnazione.

Il pianeta Marte mi ha sempre mandata allo sbaraglio, in balia della mia solitudine,

vecchia compagna

O forse è solo un incubo da cui un giorno mi rialzerò

O un linfoma inevitabile.

Preferisco sorridere all’accettazione, anche se non riesco ad accoglierla,

Visto che di negazioni e rigetti io ci sono cresciuta.

Ormai è l’eccezione che diventa regola.

Vivo di contraddizioni e nevrastenie.

Forse era buio

O forse era vita.

Non ci sto più a danzare sola intorno a questo salice

Che versa come me tutte le sue lacrime

Almeno per dieci minuti non fumo.

Cometa per sempre…

Ma per sempre stella

Ho viaggiato per non sentire il vuoto

Un vuoto che urla e fa saltare i circuiti neuronali,

viaggi di speranza,

per incontrare chi?

Viaggi interiori

Per scandagliare a fondo me stessa

E trovare delle ragioni a ciò che mi fa sentire sbagliata,

straniera a me stessa,

o inutile.

Come se per essere a questo mondo tu debba necessariamente avere un senso.

Lasciare andare, passerà… qui non passa mai!

Batti i pugni contro il muro, te la prendi col mondo intero, urli, combatti,

ma poi ti ritrovi sempre qui.

La stessa di sempre.

Tu e solo tu.

E cosa è cambiato.

Nulla. Assolutamente nulla,

solo con un pò di esaurimento in più

per aver lottato contro i mulini a vento.

Non è l’uomo, non è il lavoro, non è la famiglia, gli amici…

È non stare bene con se stessi,

non accettarsi,

e andare avanti infelice

per il ricordo di ciò che sono stata e, forse, non sarò mai più,

per essere fuori contesto sempre,

con un pugno di sogni in tasca senza avere, a tratti, più neanche la forza di vivere.

Non è smarrire se stessi…mi conosco bene!

Sono discontinua, traditrice, segreta

Progetto, aspiro, gioco,

per ritrovarmi sempre al punto di partenza,

eterna principiante nelle diverse esperienze della vita.

Il bello non è provarci, ma vincere.

Ho avuto i miei momenti di gloria,

troppo effimeri, troppo insoddisfacenti, troppo incompleti.

Ho avuto le mie passioni,

sempre insensate, e se no che passioni sarebbero…

per trovare la felicità io ho bisogno d’imperfezioni in me e negli altri,

ho bisogno del “diverso”, dell’alternativo.

Odio le omologazioni, le canalizzazioni, gli indottrinamenti.

Come quelli che ti dicono “te l’avevo detto”

e che hanno preferito sempre stare con la testa sotto la sabbia come gli struzzi accontentandosi.

Io non mi accontento mai di niente

e non mi voglio accontentare

anche se mi danna a volte.

Mi sono addossata mille rischi e lo farò ancora.

 Sono sicura.

Cercando di edificare, mai distruggere,

se mai solo me stessa.

E sto bene cosi…non è mai vero…

M’intrattengo. Mi tengo impegnata

Per non pensare

Andando contro natura

Dal momento che la mente produce pensiero continuo

Che sia ordinato o no.

Non me l’ha insegnato nessuno come devo pensare e nessuno può dirmelo

Cosi vado avanti sola, nella mia vacua dignità

In cerca di sorprese, meraviglie, adempimenti…

Non sono mai stata fatalista. Non credo nei miracoli.

Cosi mi fermo. Non faccio più niente. Lo faccio quando ho voglia.

Perché non devo dimostrare niente a nessuno fuorchè a me stessa,

cercando di sfidare sempre i miei limiti.

Ma sai che c’è? me ne frego!



When you think the all is ended out, you don’t tell it seriously

Because you look for not losing completely your bounds

Wrapping me up among the fingers this subtle thread

 in honor of what we have been or we are...bounds?

Here we are…I am  whatsoever alone, with a well of memories,

Not succeeding to reinvent neither my life

Nor that of people around me.

I am at a dead point, damn it!

But one person that pierces your heart….where is he?

And if I’d live just of the moment or day by day

What would that mean?

I believed in it during my youth but now I’m tired…I want more!

It’s just unexpressed rage, mixed to resignation.

The Mars planet has always upset me, at the mercy of my loneliness,

Old company

Or maybe it’s just a nightmare from which one day I will get rid of

Or an unavoidable lymphoma.

I prefer to smile to the acceptance, even if I can’t welcome it,

From the moment I’m acquainted with denials and rejections, through which I’ve grown up

By now is the exception that becomes the rule.

I live of contradictions and  neurasthenia.

Maybe it was dark

Maybe it was the life.

I'm breaking this alone dance around this willow

That cries along with me all my tears

At least for ten minutes I won’t smoke.

Forever comet…

But forever star.

I traveled to not feel the void

A void that screams and blows up all the neuronal circuits,

Voyages of hope,

to meet who?

Interior voyages

To sound out the bottom of myself

To find some reason to what makes me feel wrong,

Foreigner to myself,

or useless.

As if for existing in this world you must necessarily have a sense.

You let it go… here nothing passes by!

You hit your fists against the wall, you get angry with the whole world, scream, fight

to find yourself always here.

The same of ever.

You and only you.

And what did it change?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing,

just a little more mentally exhausted

to have tilted at windmills.

It’s not a partner, it’s not the job, it’s not the family or friends…

It’s not being comfortable with yourself,

Not accepting yourself,

and going ahead unhappy

for the remembering of what I was and, perhaps, I won’t be anymore,

to be always out of context,

with a fist of dreams in my pockets without having, sometimes, ever more the strength to live.

It’s not about losing oneself…I well know myself !

I’m discontinuous, treacherous, secret

I plan, aspire, play,

to always find myself at the starting point,

eternal beginner in the different experiences of life.

The best is not trying, but winning.

I had moments of glory,

too short, too unsatisfying, too incomplete.

I had my passions,

Always with no sense, on the contrary of what passion we’re talking about?

To find out happiness I need of imperfections in myself and in the others,

I need the ‘different’, the alternative one.

I hate the approvals, the canalizations, the indoctrinations.

As those who tell you ‘ I told you’

And that have always to stick their heads in the sand as ostriches, contenting themselves.

 I'm never satisfied with anything

And I don’t wanna be satisfied

Even if it damns me sometimes.

I’ve loaded myself with thousands of risks and I will keep on doing so.

 I’m sure of that.

Trying to build, never to destroy,

if ever just myself.

And I’m good in such a way….it’s never true…

I entertain myself. I'm busy.

to not think about

Going against nature

Since minds continuously  produce thoughts

right or wrong.

No one has taught me how I have to think and no one can tell me that.

So, I go ahead alone, in my vain dignity,

in search of surprises, astonishment, achievements…

I’ve never been fatalistic. I don’t believe in miracles.

Thus, I stop myself. I don’t do anything. I do that stuff whenever I want.

Because I don’t have to demonstrate anything to anyone, except myself,

Always trying to defy my limits.

But, do you know what? I don’t care at all.




Saturday, July 22, 2023

Solitary journeys

                                   

 

I miss you a lot, my freak, fragile angel,

and, since you have gone away, the grip of depression has undeniably, deeply caught me.

I miss our diversions, just not to be worried about the usual daily concerns...

I look for you in the things I run, in the people I meet every day that goes by.

 Now I don’t want either hanging you up in a cross, 

or cheating on you, or even harassing you, if you have taken this decision!

Sometimes I don’t even know what I'm saying...

Let me stop then. Stop talking, even writing...

Stop producing other work materials for psychologists!

Where will I go with all their so different assumptions?

Everything is relative! nobody can read out on my mind!

Everyone has their own idea...of what? what do they really know about me?

I don’t know who I should follow anymore...

I've decided: no one but myself!

I keep on stripping under coats, sometimes with those who don't deserve it,

erasing the springs of an innate machism under an iron armature.

This situation it's not likely to have any rescue

Just God  can hear but he or she watches carelessly!

 I  give up in giving interpretations, in trying to read out in others' minds,

or whatsoever....

I don’t have any interest in what’s happening around me! sometimes neither inside me...

Just moments of untamed joy, only to survive, of hurting illusions, of grieving dismay 

that indifferently slip away over my skin...over my head..not at all in my heart!

I don’t look for a new love....

I’m fed up with all these affairs!

Love is all around me if I wanna grab it (from who?)

if you content yourself...or maybe just hypocrisy... 

at least those who dare to give a smile don't commit any crime!

The noise...I can't stand it...I’m always trapped in a confusing mayhem

But I remain what I’ve always been.

Nothing changes in my mind.

I keep on trusting on my beliefs 

I don’t want to make compromises for any reason or anyone's sake!

Unfortunately, I truly get along just with myself...

No doctors, no scientists, no priests, no teachers, no friends!

The urgent call for reality let me deviate from the realms in which I'm confined!

I, perhaps, will never be so familiar to a proper perception of joyfulness!

 I don’t feel any excitement to live in a solitary room,

Where nothing changes...never...

and I'm just subjugated by ghosts that often make you lose contact with facts,

obliging me to live as a machine or a stupid doll!

I'm not the puppet of anyone!

Above all if you consider that I'm getting bored of myself 

and, in the wait for a new unlikely coming prince charming or a novelty,

 I’d like to find something to dream about, an escape,

Hovering over the uphills of my imagination!

Being skeptical is not on my chords...

 I keep on being marveled by beauty or quirky emotions,

Sometimes enthusiasm surrounds you and leaves you so unprepared to such a blessing!

I’m perfectly aware that nothing lasts forever,

no surprise effect that could turn me inside out,

It would be wonderful, but somewhat unrealistic, to find here my little California!

 I’m honestly full of fears for next solitary journey, in and beyond myself,

but I try to not linger on these thoughts!

I’m so eager to engage myself in a new uplifting adventure

and if even if I will have to die,

it will be in search of something new and inspiring!

My life has been so cruel to me so far....That's all!.

I could give to me any painful consequence to overcome all of my limits and to undertake this experience,

under the shining light of a dream coming true American sun!  

 

 



Tuesday, January 24, 2023

Dove va a finire il vento / Where the wind goes






 Vorrei sapere dove va a finire il vento,

io che lo rincorro nuda e tremo,

vento che ci sospinge nei nostri labirinti così tempestosi...

vento che a volte ci fa perdere la rotta della ragione.

Nell'abbraccio di un amico o nei fantasmi del passato?

Forse finisce laddove va a morire il pensiero.

Navigando nello spazio ho conosciuto te,

internauti del cuore...

Vorrei sapere dove va a finire la scintilla di un amore perduto,

una storia che si ripete,

sovrastata dall'amarezza,

dimentica della gioia,

 della magia, dell'effervescenza...

persi nel distacco e nella disillusione del ritorno

ad un ordinario rumorosamente destabilizzante

e nell'astinenza da quel calore ovattato e placentico,

da quel senso di totalità

che ci faceva bastare l'uno all'altro,

per cibarci solo di quei pochi ma intensi febbricitanti baci e candide carezze

a lungo agognati e sospirati.

Vorrei sapere che ne sarà di noi,

una volta che quella bolla d'amore

è esplosa al frastagliarsi di mille spine

e non c'è più quell'ìncantesimo che la rendeva integra

e la sorreggeva galleggiante nell'etere

sospinta da un flusso di misticità

che la rendeva infrangibile e splendente.

Vorrei sapere che ne sarà della bellezza

e dei ciclici germogli delle primavere dei cuori,

nel gelo di una neve che ci ha agghiacciato gli sguardi e gli istinti.

Passerà l'inverno ma sapremo attendere con fede

e preservare inalterati dei vaneggiamenti romantici?

Resta solo un senso di gentilezza sottile

nella sensibilità delle nostre fragili essenze

e il ricordo di una carezza sul viso 

che celava un'inespressa verità di passione e reciproche affinità recondite. 

Affinità elettive.


Where the wind goes 


I’d like to know where the wind goes,

me chasing him naked and trembling,

Wind that propels us in our labyrinths, so stormy,

And makes us lose the route of reason.

In the embrace of a friend or in the ghosts of the past?

Probably it will end where the thought goes dying.

Surfing in the space I met you

Internauts of the heart.

I’d like to know where does go ending up the spark of a lost love,

a history that repeats itself,

Overwhelmed by the embitterment,

forgetful of the joy,

and the magic, the effervescence...

lost in the detachment and in the disillusionment of a comeback

to an ordinary life, noisily destabilizing

and in the abstinence of that muffled and placentate warmth,

from that sense of totality

that made us be sufficient for each other,

to feed ourselves just of those few but intense feverish kisses and pure caresses

for such a long time desired and sighed.

I’d like to know what will be of us,

Once that the bubble of love is blown up

 by the indenting of a thousand thorns

And there’s no more any spell that made it intact

And bore it bloating in the ether

Pushed by a flux of mysticism

That made it unbreakable and shining.

I’d like to know what will be of the beauty

And of the cyclic sprouts of the springs of the hearts,

In the frost of a snow that has frozen our glances and instincts.

Winter will pass by but we will hold on faithfully

And preserved unchanged our romantic ravings?

It’s left only a sense of subtle gentleness

In the sensitivity of our fragile essences

And the remembering of a caress along the face 

That hid an unexpressed truth of passion and reciprocal concealed affinities.

Elective affinities.


Thursday, November 24, 2022

Senza lacrime - Without tears- Sans larmes



 Senza lacrime


Attendere ogni giorno che il sole sorga,

Il principio di un’alba,

Nel cuore della notte hai tempo per dimenticare te stesso.

Nel disincanto freddo

Del vuoto che hai lasciato

A imputridire ferite scoperte,

ci ho creduto, sebbene irreale.

Cosa è veramente impossibile?

ho voluto illudermi che una strana magia 

potesse rischiarare i miei pensieri

ed effondere in me quel calore di cui avevo bisogno

per scordarmi di quest’anima triste, spesso incompresa,

senza spazio, senza espressione.

Inseguire chimere

Di leggerezze e vanità

D’ilarità e gioia

E pago pur sapendo che non troverò risposta ai miei perché

 perché credo che la speranza non possa morire

Che troveremo tutti un giorno un’ oasi per poterci proteggere

E in cui le nostre anime finalmente si potranno toccare

Congiungersi in un idillio onirico,

nonostante brancoli nel buio sola.

È quando fai i conti con te stessa che nessuno ti può aiutare.

Scardinare le paure e giocarsi tutto.

Vincere o essere fuori dai giochi.per sempre.

Per spezzare le catene di questo tunnel

Di cui, cieca,non riesco a intravedere la fine.

Il tuo amore mi avrebbe dato coraggio

Ma combatto contro la tua assenza

E mi angoscio il ventre in un malsano spirito d’avventura

Che non mi è mai appartenuto.

Vorrei una casa.

Senza lacrime.

----

Without tears   


Holding on everyday that the sun rises up,

the very beginning of a dawn.

In the heart of the night you find out time to forget yourself.

In the frozen disenchantment

Of the void you’ve left

To decay uncovered scars,

I’ve trusted in it, although surreal.

What’s really impossible?

I’ve wanted to delude myself that such a strange kind of magic

Could brighten up my thoughts

And pour out on me that warmth that I’ve needed 

Forgetting this sad, often misunderstood, soul,

Without space, without expression.

Running after chimeras

Of lightness and vanity

Of hilarity and joy...

And I pay out, well knowing that I won’t find an answer to my questions

Because I believe that hope can’t die

That everyone will find one day an oasis to protect themselves

And where our souls could finally touch each other

could reconnect themselves in an oneiric idyll,

although I fumble in the darkness, alone.

It’s when you come to terms with yourself that you realize that nobody can’t help you.

To unhinge the fears and to play everything.

To win or to be out of the games. Forever.

To break down the chains of this tunnel

Whose, blind, I can’t glimpse the end.

Your love would have given to me the courage

But I fight against your absence

And I grieve my womb in an unhealthy spirit of adventure

That has never belonged to me

I ‘d like a home.

With no tears.

----

Sans larmes


 Attendre tous les jours que le soleil monte,

Le principe d’une aube.

Dans le coeur de la nuit tu as le temps pour oublier toi meme.

Dans le froid désenchantement

Du vide que tu as laissé

À pourrir plaies ouvertes,

j’y crois, si bien irréel.

Quoi est vraiment impossible?

J’ai voulu me tromper que une étrange magie

Porrai éclairer mes pensées

Et  déverser en moi  quelle chaleur dont j’avais besoin

Pour oublier cette âme triste, souvent mal comprise,

Sans éspace, sans expression.

Courir après le vent, poursuivre chimères

De légèreté et vanité

D’hilarité et joie

Et je paye, malgré je sais que je ne trouverai pas des réponses à mes questions,

Parce que je crois que l’ésperance ne peut pas mourir

Que tous nous trouverons un jour une oasis pour nous protéger

Et où nos âmes finalement se puissent toucher

Se rejoindre dans un idylle onirique,

malgré je tâtonne dans le noir, toute seule.

C’est lorsque tu fais face à toi même que personne peut t’aider.

Désarticuler les peurs et se jouer  tout.

Dagner où être dehors des jeux. pour toujours.

Pour briser les chaînes de ce tunnel

dont, aveugle, je ne peux pas apercevoir la fin.

Ton amour m’aurait donné le courage

Mais je lutte contre ton absence

Et je m’inquiéte le ventre dans un malade ésprit d’aventure

Qui ne m’a jamais appartenu.

Je voudrais une maison.

Sans larmes.

 



Sunday, April 24, 2022

Kate Moss: a wordly acclaimed ambassador of British fashion style


 

Since the ‘90s when started to be highlighted into the spotlight the role of the models on the stage and the cult of models personalities,  no more considered just as mannequins but that lured the public eye for the way they interpreted wearing dresses and coutumiers communicative messages by their custom-tailored collections, Kate Moss icon of beauty cannot be left behind, being an outstanding example of what British fashion style means, bringing it to the world.

Emblem of the skinny and slender size and a minimalistic fashion trend, she hark us back to the concept of essentialism and to the core elements of the mannequin psychology of donning outfits with a hint of simplicity and neutral, natural approach. Paradoxically, talking about Miss Moss it’s not proper referring to a sort of anonymity and transparency by the way she could distinguish herself and as the cold but straight charme left an indelible mark on the international catwalks (New York, Paris, Milan…)she threaded upon and on more of 300 glossy paper magazines, such as Vogue, Elle, Vanity Fair, GQ, etc.

Symbol of a candid austerity she painted of lightness the grey London skies, letting us feel the slightness beyond the numbs, jumping out of rigorousness, the strictness and narrow mentality by a genuine naivety on the street as well as on the runaways. It’s extraordinary, in fact, her embodied interpretation of mental and physical detachment from all what’s around her, in any case or circumstances, riding the wave of the hustle and bustle and hitting hard the ground of the showbiz industry  she managed with a next door girl, pure and simple smile that doesn’t forget a strong spirit of sacrifice stretched to the bones  and dedication. Her constant passion for perfection pushes her to work hard on her body and mind, by practising several  hours and hours a day  sport activities and daily workout and to severely control diet and nutritional intakes, embolding rationality upon greediness. Going beyond the harshness of the critics all the stars can’t avoid to deal with, the accusation of inciting teenagers to anorexic habits and demeneors and some sort of addiction as smoking or making occasional use of cocaine to help her standing still, she has demonstrated to fly high over the provocations of a world of information that however has never hatred her , on the contrary has always adored her sense of self- containment, gentleness and class, showing to simply enjoy life and to be an exceptional partygoers and friendly mate of other models colleagues, as Linda Evangelista and Naomi Campbell and to be very admired and exalted in her tininess by stylists such as the casual and informal Calvin Klein. In his denim, minidresses and cotton zero-kitsch embellishments and ornaments bringing to the four corners of the globe his message of extreme essentiality and minimalism, bringing down any secondary accessories and trinkets, reaching to an androginity standard, not only by his often unisex collections but also by his perfumes such as One,  Be, Eternity and Obsession, emphasizing the characteristic vague gaze and big eyes of the model, that often give us the impression to be lost in a kind of void, to have got that je ne sais quoi, that has always been that quid that brought her to be a step ahead than the other ones and a powerful series of striked poses that remark her skinny simple look .By the passing of times, after working for almost every fashion stylists such as Versace, Gucci, Saint Laurent, Rimmel, Dolce e Gabbana,Missoni, Dior, Burberry and Bulgari, she became the allure testimonial of a classy and over-refined Chanel, adorned of threads of pearls and feathers, abandoning the old straight  ‘90s image, jumping into the gold, showing off thigh skimmed slipdresses, fluffy voiles and veiling stockings, bringing her fresh breeze to the sophisticated French trend icon of traditional, classical beauty. Snapped in the public as well as in her private life, very busy, although her appearance of fragile grown up woman, she’s always demonstrated how much though she’s always been in managing her business and her crowded and fuzzy lifestyle, finding also the time for some but exceptional love affairs, among which we remember celebrities as Johnny Depp, and Peter Doherty, Jamie Hince that gave her a daughter, Lila Grace, and recently the German aristocrat and photographer Count Nikolai von Bismark, always under a veil of moderation and sobriety, keeping her private life far from nasty gossips and scandals.

Impressing audience since her start-up times of Storm Model Agency in New York for her reverse mode that swept away over sized, Mediterranean, plumpy or curveliness trends of the previous years she enchanted everyone by her innocent feautures and sexy lips other than by the grace of her gentle moves, that has given her the fame of a seraphic, angelic, almost ethereal woman.

In her 40s, far away from the times of super modeling, she’s made her debut as businesswoman, by designing a special collection for  the British fashion company Topshop in London , named “Moss”, that mixes original fringes and straps to essential core clothes and textures, other than bags, belts and accessories and participated as an actress to the series “Absolutely Fabolous” and as interpreter of beauty in the G. Michael video “White Lights”.

The simplicity of her dresses aims to put in evidence the perfection of the body underneath it, almost as a way to convey the message that more that what you wear it’s important what there’s under the outfit, preferring to be rather than to have. The dress is finalized to exalt the perfection or the main traits of the body, so a fashion industry not focused on itself, in an over elaboration and abundance of fabrics and materials, but on the woman silhouette.

Don’t let us surprised how she has been capable to gather and welcome  throughout the years so different fades of the universal feminine appeal and lending her face to so different  interpreters of womanhood. by a subtle, delicate and slippery fascination and cliché.