Lauren Balmain Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sydney

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

Agents from LJ Hooker Balmain

There is only 2 seating, pm or pm. With a staff of 13 taking care of 14 guests. It understands hospitality and fine dining. You won't go home hungry.

I remember when I first trod these lanes—the affectionate gloom, the refractions of sunlight on old brick walls, much like the delicate brush strokes in "Yi Yi: A One and a Two" where, as Edward Yang declares, "For now, is all we have." Life, like Balmain, be fleeting and fragile.

Olivier Rousteing on the Met, his $20,000 whisky , and what’s next for Balmain