I don't care abt what people think of me or why I Love Saint Laurent


Yesterday I ran errands and had to come back home rather late. On my way back home I saw a couple of those slipshod trash peasants,  young men who we Russians typically call "gopniki" (they are similar to Chavs, Spides & Neds in the UK). We were queueing in the same line in a shop together for some time. I wanted something cold, because we all are dying  from heat and humidity here in Krasno. It's 38 Celsius, it hasn't rained for about two weeks. And it's not funny anymore. Oh, I hate heat! Thanks God, I don't sweat and try to minimize my being under the sun. 
 So, of course, when I came in, they turned their heads to my direction and started to giggle. I'm used to people's attention. That's normal as soon as they don't invade my personal space. I know the way I look like is far from that one brutal muscle chippendales have. And what seems to be "simple" to me, to most citizens of Kuban Region seems to be "gay". And this has always been "a secret hidden behind a locked door". Why? And if so, is it so bad? 
Look! I was wearing my shades that I wore in Turkey, a plain white tank top, black satin slim trousers, and white espadrilles by H&M (I love them, they are so comfy). Okay, I also wore wooden bracelets (I know it's cheap, but it's a present from my mum). Of course, I got my pedi and mani done. Of course, my skin was shining (I put a sh#tload of "Peau parfaite 6 en 1 BB Creme sublimatrice" by Yves Rocher). So I looked neat and perfect  simple. But they still kept on giggling. And then, they started to discuss something about me, and that's a little of what my ears could identify from their whispering:

- "Не понимаю я таких педиков,  молодых людей. Браслетики, стразы, гламур...фу"
- "Смотри, еще совратит, бля... (со мной рядом стоял ребенок и орал благим матом)...Да вон тот, в белых очечках. " и пр.

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- I can't understand such faggots, young guys. All their bracelets, crystals, glamour...ewww"
- "Watch him, he may seduce the babe (there was a mother with her crying son). Yeah, that one who wears white shades, that who I mean" etc. 

I wrote this in Russian and in English, but it's hard to reproduce all the humiliation their words contained in English. And oh, their fugly laugh. I was about to smack them. What? Smack? Who? Them? No, I would never ever touch one of those peasants idiots, cause I have hemophobia like Madonna has (BTW, is that true?), and queens don't fight, right?! Am I pathetic?  Ha-Ha.
One of my friends once mentioned that it would be better if such blockheads beat or killed gays rather than they mocked at them. I was about to agree with him at the moment I met my blockheads, cause they are omnipresent and it's become a habit not to pay attention to them. That's a torture.  But why should we? Okay, let it be we are more educated, we are more tolerable, we are more superior at last. But I swear to God, my patience is NOT limitless and I don't know what I'll do if one bastard says something humiliating to my direction one more time. 
I even don't have so many fingers to count incidents similar to the one I'm writing about. Once at night one bastard spitted on my back (I hope he'll burn in hell), the other bastard in a shopping mall laughed at me, some years ago a couple of school children bastards threw a phrase in a tram (yes, I sometimes use public transport. LOL) that killed me. One of them said:  "It's probably hard to be a fag" and started to laugh increasingly. I aswered: "Not that hard as to be an idiot". Ha-ha, my tongue serves me right sometimes. LOL. Shut the f#ck up. And so on, and so forth. 
My mom says I must obey social rules! Rules? What rules? I always reply that such a  punk fashion victim like I am mustn't obey peasant's any rules except those which are regulated by our official legislation system, there are no limits in fashion to me, I look the way I look, and they better obey me, cause I'm god compared to those b#tches in flip - flops and oversized jeans shorts taht they wear! Eehww, disgusting.   
I was upset and repeated curse and oath against my offenders over and over again inside my head when I left the shop. 
Do you wanna know what a joyful thing happened to me next when I came home? And how the Holy  Fashion House of  Saint Laurent is connected to the story? Click NEXT...hurry up...

So I came home, took a jar of jam and a croissant and switched on my laptop which is always on my bed right next to me cause I'm an Internet addicted b#tch, and you know it. 
I was browsing websites one after another till I came across a Fatalefashion Official YouTube Channel. And the first collection I spotted online was by YSL. It was Saint Laurent Spring Summer 2015 Full Fashion Show  Menswear  Exclusive, if to be exact.  I immediately clicked it and died. I started to get better immediately (who said that fashion can't be therapeutic?) and forgot about everything bad happened to me the other day and enjoyed, enjoyed every look I saw. I don't lie. Hedi Slimane, what are you doing to me? It's not even funny. Folks at YSLaurent, I know you might be reading this now, tell Mr. Slimane that I love him and his work. And please, when I once visit your boutique in Paris,  6 Place Saint-Sulpice, would someone be so kind to show me around it and allow me to take some real deal shots? Please, please, please I promise that when I get my first "big money", the first piece I'll buy will be labelled exqusitely Yves Saint Laurent. 
But let's better stop my illiterate ramblings and watch the Collection  yourself:

This is,  my friends, what I call PERFECTION! Yes or no? Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. 
Clothes from a men's line screamed my name, especially those pieces which have embroidery, and oh that cherry and white striped jacket! Add some white jeans to it, and black leather shoes, voila - a little princess is ready for her hubby-to-be to get a Cartier ring on her finger. And  thanks for skinny jeans brought back to runaway. Western, rock'n'roll,  music, ponchos, fringed tops, dark and shiny palette, gold touch in accessory line, - all mixed and top styled mmmmm...SPECTACULAR! 
Did you notice that female models worked 100% better than male models did though?  But who am I to judge? Nevertheless, I liked it all. 
ATTENTION PLZ! If I once become a victim of one of any homophobic bastards (God save me! ), I want to wear YSL when my last day on Earth comes. *joke*joke*. 
Check out the new collection in Mr. Porter, and, of course, check out their Spring Summer 2014 women's line at YSL Official. Don't obey the rules, save your money and get more splendid clothes! 

Yours faithfully,
Maurice Chabale




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