Scarlett Rouge Backstage Rick Owens

SCARLETT’S LETTERS: A Secret Homelessness

Dear James —

I am walking. Walking. The runway is endless. Literally, it’s a marathon with only one row of seating, and mass of bodies clustering behind it. We were told to run, twice through, while keeping our cool. I’m wearing what hasn’t been seen before. Slightly afraid the Egyptian-esque tubular hat will fly off my small head. This is not my first time strutting down the catwalk; still, adrenaline kicks in, helps me keep up pace.  Adrenaline encourages me. All you got to do is walk. The world’s fashion elite are watching me. Watching as I walk. Flashes from their little snappers.

The gods of Bali


Dear James —

I am on holidays, holidaze, and holy days!

The last time I went on adventure like this was twelve years ago, backpacking though Europe. I think I’ve left my brain and wit back in Paris. I rarely get out of my enchanted bubble or beyond my traveling comfort zone. Yes, I am a bit scared. Okay, let’s be honest: scared shitless.

So, so much has happened here in Bali. So many new vistas, smells and experiences. I’m still absorbing it all, or maybe truer to say is I’m still absorbed in it all and yet still have the distance to depict it.