This is a very pastel story with, as a background, the blue skies of Venice Beach and the waves of Malibu, crashing gracefully in the distance. This is a story with washed jeans, faded turquoise cotton tee-shirts and rose-coloured sunsets. This is a juicy fruit with a bitter core.
This is the story of my friend and of a man, who, thankfully, got away.
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She met him at a party in West Hollywood. In the kitchen of this airy house with views over the pink and orange sunset was a small group of gorgeous men, an only-in-LA-Zoolander gathering of the ages at the centre of which three main figures stood out.
One was a top male model with an arrogant stubble and a bright wool hat, the other a famous designer with a bulging chest and a scarf effortfully draping off of his back pocket, and then the main character of our story, who was not exactly as plastic-looking as his companions, but tall and engaging. He was wrapped in a soft, expensive peaches-and-cream coloured hoodie which enhanced the br…