Life And Death Of An Influencer

Here I am, on a beautiful boat, speeding on the sparkly Mediterranean sea. 

I arrived in Cannes yesterday, and when I got to my hotel room, my bed was covered in presents. I didn’t open them right away. I’m tired of opening boxes. I probably sat on the balcony, smoked a cigarette, and wondered how I was going to survive the next three days.

I was flown here, first class, to go to a cruise collection.

I am not paid to be here but everything is taken care of, from the pick up at my home to the final drop off I'll be driven, fed, massaged and entertained. I am here because I am part of the privileged crowd of fashion. 

Ticket to the cruise collection = golden ticket.

I’m so lucky.

There probably were chocolates and a huge plate of beautiful fruit somewhere in my suite. I probably ate most the chocolate and left the fruit. My toxic habits keep me going. I probably opened Instagram to check who was here. I don’t follow anyone who is here. Oh, whoops. I don’t even follow the brand that invited me…