I’m 51 years old. If you’d ask me how I feel, I don’t feel middle-aged, on the contrary. I often feel much younger, and act even younger than what I feel like.
I’m someone’s mother, someone’s daughter, someone’s sister and a friend to many.
I’m not anyone’s life partner or a girlfriend at the moment, but I can’t wait to be.
I’m in love with life and am honestly excited about every new day.
I’m inspired by people, and I believe in miracles. That’s why miracles do happen to me.
I adore colourful dresses and plunging necklines.
I love beautiful things and beautiful people. Those to which the common concept of beauty does not apply. Those that have some irregularities, but because of them, I find them beautiful.
I fall in love with events, sentences, songs, situations, cities, people, body parts, seasons, flower patterns and silk textures. I fall in love with whatever I run into because I’m in love with that feeling of being in love.
When I’m sad, I can listen to Joni Mitchell or Billie Holiday for hours.
I love kafanas, good wine, music, deep conversations, looking through my eyelashes, seduction and laughing out loud.
I love seeing my dresses start their lives on different female bodies, and those women leaving with a smile.
But most of all, I love people who are authentic and honest, not afraid to live their life to the max. Who said goodbye to playing it safe the day they were born. Who, in front of a new challenge, stand in front of it and give it a wink.
I’d like to be a part of that team one day. All I know is that I’m giving it my best.