Yesterday we went to this funky fashion show with a bunch of supermodels walking the runway although it was more like they were trying to seduce you. When I arrived at the studio, I found the cavernous space decked out like a runway show from hell. One model wore a motorcycle outfit (with side view mirrors) and a robot costume. The robot was an amazing piece that was really handmade, and of course it didn’t stretch. It was kind of tight, and then there was the helmet that was literally made on the skull. One of the girls backstage was fed up with being back there, she was like a revolution. She snapped, went berserk, and someone tried to slap her to calm her down. She said: “No, you’ve got to get me going. I want you to really push me and slap the hell out of me.” And another girl said, “Really?” And she turned around and just slapped her. She went, “Like that.” and she was like, “Okay!” So she shook her. She then went on the runway and they were trying to stop her, and there were all these women walking out in full-on couture, and she came running out and they were trying to stop her and she threw her robe off and she was all latex and she took over the runway. It was kind of like the ugly duckling that bursts into the beautiful swan. She threw herself down on the catwalk, her legs in a wide-open split. She kicked and rolled and flipped and did what she did in one take and the place went insane.
"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...

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