I've moved on...
...to a different domain. Why, what were you thinking? The truth is, I just woke up one day and decided it's time for a change—a metamorphosis, if you will; or, in layman's terms, if Britney can shave her head, then maybe so can I? Nevertheless, it's been a rather handsome 10 years of talking to you, and thank you for putting up with all my moodswings and terrible dad jokes. Fear not! The hormonal imbalance and jokes are more terrible on CUBICLE, see you there.

In Dior Joaillerie-Horlogerie boutique 8 place Vendôme; Hotel de Crillon

I must’ve simmered in the London pot little too long to think that stepping out with a lightly-packed bag while high-fiving the drunk neighbour at 4am is a very appropriate start to a romantic Paris trip. Drunk on a Sunday night, true hipster pirate freelancer spirit, aye? I should know, I’m captain of that ship. We’re sinking and all that. Anyway. On arrival I searched around for my driver (ho ho my driver, when would I EVER say that again) and spotted a man holding up a ‘Mr Parcchini’ sign. Naturally I glazed over and kept looking, thinking poor Italian man with a name that sounds like food. After a flurry of texts between Brian the PR, turns out Mr Parcchini (ParkShini) was to be my alias in Paris – I’m guessing the reservation was made by phone. So I said that’s me and from then on the driver couldn’t stop looking at his rear mirror, so I spoke in a deep voice to take the mickey out of him and all, buhehe.

Dior kindly invited me down for a day for the introduction of the spectacular Dior VIII watches – to be extra clear, it does not have six wives, one with a cocktail named after. Apparently 8 was Mr Dior’s lucky number! Look out for part two and three, because I’m in Seoul at the moment with acute exhaustion and the internet in this damn hotel costs £10 an hour I decided to skip the research this time and write this up in Word. It just underlined ‘Parcchini’ in a red squiggly line…