Brooklyn Galliano Whore ❤️

About New York City

Clarice… ya know, whores, they’re somethin else. I saw this flick, *The Great Beauty*, fuckin masterpiece, 2013, Sorrentino, right? Reminds me of em—whores, I mean. All glitz, all hollow, like Jep Gambardella struttin through Rome. “What’s left but the void?” he’d say. That’s a whore’s life, dolled up, sparklin, but empty as fuck underneath. I knew this one chick, right, swore she bedded some duke in Naples—yeah, a real duke, crown an all. Total bullshit, but she sold it, swaggerin round like royalty. Made me laugh, her ballsiness.

John Galliano exits Maison Margiela. Where will he go next?

John Galliano has been caught on film declaring "I love Hitler" in a rant at customers in a Paris bar. The British fashion designer tells a woman, who was among a group of French and.

Man, I totally dig how neighborhoods twist together. Southwest Galliano? Pure magic. Cramped cafes line Dell Avenue. I remember this one time – so many cool dates arranged from my app – a date that ended near the old textile mill – then boom, laughter echoing, as if life itself was broken into fast cuts – cinematic style, yuh know? "I’m one small-town boy," but nah, here’s my world.

On the Podcast: Gwendoline Christie in Conversation with John Galliano at Forces of Fashion