Maurice Chabale

Scared

My beloved # 1 team of fashion minions, I'm so sorry  for all that moaning and whining I've been overloading you with for the past few weeks or so. But I just can't see another way of how to heal my collapsed mind but blogging about problems I have in my life. This is so therapeutic. 

Actually, I can't say they can  be fairly identified as problems, cause comparing to the REAL problems those families of two killed journalists (God, save their souls!) - Steven Sotloff  and Andrei Stenin - have faced, mine are just ridiculous. Rest in Peace, dear brothers - in - spirit! I wish their families as much courage as they are able to have! And I'm asking every powerful creature here and there or just people who know what sympathy means all around the world to support the families anyhow!!!!! 

On a different note,  the sh#t is bugging me inside and I can't help it. 

Maybe this is just a transitional point - a consequence  of some crisis men are naturally obliged to meet in their lifetime once in a while (thanks god we don't have MPs)? 

The thing is I dunno what to do! I'm lost!  I'm fed up with nine - to - five jobs they offer all the way round here in this pit aka Krasnodar, I'll do my best not to have them anymore in my entire life! They're so boring. Only if it's not Vogue or any other magazine I like (look at my sidebar, I have a great choice, yeah! Yeah? Can you hear me, sweeditor-in-chiefs over there in Harper's Bazaar, GQ, Port, TeenVogue, or even KVIR for me would be fine? No?).  I need to be occupied! NOW!!!! 

I thought about making blogging my only job, but come on, I cherish it as my dream hobby. And I'm not a businessman!

The path seems too narrow to me. I need more space. I thought I could go to Moscow or St. Petersburg,  or the USA, or any European country, but who's waiting for me there because of those f#cking sanctions and politics' sh#t. I'm just a clumsy little jerk who likes dressing up, but doesn't know how to nail (but I have many other strenghts). I don't have enough energy for a new "back to the drawing board" period. I'm too old for that! I sacrificed everything I used to have some years ago, but I can't say that I've reaped  a golden grain as a matter of fact. Of course, I don't regret anything, but still....

I feel like time is leaking though my fingers like water, but I haven't done anything yet! Anything which I could be proud of (except I have you here!!!). 

My English is crap. My French is even worse. I can't teach cause I hate  am scared of children. I can't work in a shop, cause I'm too shy. I have no selling skills. I'm absolutely unversed in maths or Science, or computers.  

Whatever the world could offer me, I'll reject everything except fashion, cause I'm born to be a sheikh's concubine. No, I'm even not good enough for that either,  cause I have developed an ugly paunch and I have those terrible pouches under my eyes. 

Heck! I want to be born a prince of an Arabic country in my second lifetime. Mother, give me  birth again! I need an upgrade! 

I think I also need to push borders in that field and create my own job opportunities for myself. 

Let's dream a bit: 

Click NEXT

I think I'd be an ideal 'fashion lazy-bone'. Actually this job opportunity is already occupied by socialites we see every day on Fashion TV (I love FT!). But, I'd beat them! Just get me Dior shoes, DKNY tank top, and these silver lacquered shorts by Isabel Yalda which I'm obsessed by. YSL coat on shoulders as a cherry on a pie. Voila! Milles mercis to my favourite fashion angel  -  Sonny Vandevelde for the photo. 

If you've ever had  the same promlem I'd be grateful for your advice. You know my e-mail. Thank you.

Post Scriptum: It's not that simple. I'm sure we have to work hard whatever industry we choose. And we're responsible for what we do.  I love y'all! Take care...

Sincerely. 

Maurice Chabale.