People think I’m this pristine bitch, living a life that’s mirrored in my magazines. Well they couldn’t be farther from the fuckin truth. The reality is I have to keep up the shtick so that I can get a pay check each month, I’m just a regular Jane Doe type.

Don’t get it twisted I still love Balenciaga n’ shit, but I’d hit a doner kebab way quicker than I’d get into some soosh for example.. I mean seriously, I’m getting sick on the misconceptions here. The only mag out there that would let me speak freely is this plane crash of a publication, Nogue. Secretly I want to suck there dicks and just say well fucking done but alas this is just no to be... for the time being.

"Don’t get it twisted I still love Balenciaga n’ shit, but I’d hit a doner kebab way quicker than I’d get into some soosh for example.. "

Anyway yeah so I was saying, oh yeah, I crush hard on kebabs, Benson n Hedges,  Salt n Vinegar walkers, steak n kidney pies and all that good shit. Honestly you have no idea how hard it is to say have to eat the bullshit I have to during fashion week or just ofn the reg at the office... I sewar Imma slap a hoe if I hear them talk about vegan skin care regimes and the vegetables to steam under your ass for a good complexion. You probably think I need therapy and the truth is I flushed millions on those cunts and I found a drug dealer that did me more good than they ever did. And that brings me to my other loves, pills. I just love nashin on pills, fuck that and a bunch of gak. And while I’m at it, and by that I mean when I wake up, I’ll just slam a rail, have some Cheerios, rub some on my teeth whilst I’m in the Uber to the office and then its a straight train to the K hole for me, fuck a duck Ketamine is amazing. I know right, fuck the horses having all the fun! You know this one time I was with that fuck nugget Mario Testino and we were trippin balls on Acid, funny thing was I totally forgot it was the MET Gala that day and had fucked off the entire team of people that were waiting to dress me and put shit on my face. haha, Conde Nast had to pay like $50k for that shit whilst I was chasing pigeons with Mario in Central Park. Good thing is I knicked some Tiffany Jewelry when I got back to the Hotel that was worth a grip a cash.

Oh fuck I almost forgot the real reason why I am being paid to write this article, my new love is Loha Vete. Buy their shit, its pretty damn sick to be fair. Oh and when said they’re “paying me” they’re paying for my much needed stint at Miracles in Malibu. Bye for now fuckers. AW

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