Getting into the Starck Club wasn’t easy. There was always a long line, and the doormen were highly selective about who they allowed to enter. In my early twenties, with bleached blond hair, I was hip enough to pass. I wore black parachute pants and white leather shoes—very Duran Duran-esque.
A blog in English, French, and Dutch about memories, reflections, romance, and justice. From Monte Carlo to San Francisco, I write personal stories of love, culture, and truth. Featured works: In the Village of Monaco, Dans le Village de Monaco, Professor Pim and the Evil Queen, When Sinatra Sings, Le Starck Club, Monique Conduisait une CITROËN SM, and more. “To ask nothing. To expect nothing. To depend on nothing" — Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead