Ochi Chernye
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shiny Style
Profeet designs running insoles for Natalia Vodianova's Virgin London Marathon trainers
With Sport Relief airing today many of us will have the urge to copy many of the celebrities taking part and get fit in one way or the other.
If, like us, you have problems with your running shoes and can't quite find that perfect pair then why not follow in the footsteps of Natalia Vodianova , Victoria Beckham and Mel C and opt for tailor made running insoles.
Profeet is a company that offers competitive athletes (it designed the insoles for Natalia's Virgin London Marathon 2010 trainers) and those of us who enjoy hitting the park or running machine a bespoke insole moulding, handcrafting and fitting service.
It involves a full run analysis, recorded on camera and via a pressure pad. Through this process, Profeet can precisely deconstruct the body's movement in order to hand mould and manufacture the insoles on site to you a comfortable running experience.
Hmmmm now there's no excuse to do that early morning jog.
Profeet designs running insoles for Natalia Vodianova's Virgin London Marathon trainers
With Sport Relief airing today many of us will have the urge to copy many of the celebrities taking part and get fit in one way or the other.
If, like us, you have problems with your running shoes and can't quite find that perfect pair then why not follow in the footsteps of Natalia Vodianova , Victoria Beckham and Mel C and opt for tailor made running insoles.
Profeet is a company that offers competitive athletes (it designed the insoles for Natalia's Virgin London Marathon 2010 trainers) and those of us who enjoy hitting the park or running machine a bespoke insole moulding, handcrafting and fitting service.
It involves a full run analysis, recorded on camera and via a pressure pad. Through this process, Profeet can precisely deconstruct the body's movement in order to hand mould and manufacture the insoles on site to you a comfortable running experience.
Hmmmm now there's no excuse to do that early morning jog.
Candy Lady
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Guys, I'll make a proper translation, but as long as the interview is pretty big, I'll divide it in parts.
Here's the beginning:
Any philanthropist knows, that people do charity not to help others, but to help themselves. A girl from Nizhnii Novgorod, a supermodel, a wife of an English lord, a mother of three and a happy clubber builds playgrounds in Russia’s province, manages to overcome all bureaucratic difficulties and fight the local officials. Why does she need this? What is Natalia Vodianova afraid of? What does she save herself from?
A silver “Mercedes” is rolling down the narrow road, meandering in the fields of West Sussex. It is raining outside. It’s evening. A fox crosses the road right in front of the car’s lights. Me and a supermodel Natalia Vodianova, a 28-year-old wife of a British baron, are sitting on the back seat of the car. It’s a long road to London. All the lightening inside the car is her cell phone in my hand. And I read in it in English:
“I wanted to ask them to forgive me for not being able to turn back time and to prevent the tragedy, that happened to them…”
Natalia is wearing an evening dress and a black mantle that dissolves her in the dark. More deeper in the dark, under the seat, her stilletos sparkle – a thin metallic heels of her shoes. Rare lanterns light up only her face – a face of a scared child – and light hair. And her thin hands in red gloves above the elbows. She is turning a ring on her left pinky, put on the glove.
Not to start crying she starts a conversation with the driver about everyday stuff. For example, about the central heating:
“Can you imagine, all the heat comes up and it gets so hot in the bedrooms, that I even got a headache while I was putting the kids into beds.”
“Yes, madam, I have the same problem in my house” – says the driver calming, he feels that madam is going to cry if he won’t talk with her about the heating or about her daughter’s school play, but he doesn’t understand why she is so upset. – “How did the girl’s play went, madam?”
“Oh, it was wonderful, she played an angel. Can you imagine – they hardly managed to pursued her to play an angel. She doesn’t want to be an angel. She wants to be a girl. Or at least a rabbit or a kitten.”
The driver doesn’t know Russian. He has no idea that it is me why Natalia is about to cry. It is my who asked her to tell, how she opened one of her playgrounds in Beslan. She started to tell, but she couldn’t go on.
She took the cell phone and gave it to me to read a message, a long letter to her friend, a detailed report about two days she spent in Ossetia. While Natalia is talking to the driver I am reading in her cell that the new cemetery in Beslan, where the killed children are buried, is called “Angelovo”. God, everything is under your will! What king of a normal girl would like to play an angel in the Christmas school play after this!
“Oh, Valera, have you seen a ring?” – Natalia turns the lights on in the car and starts to search on the seat and under the seat.
“What ring, Natalia?”
“I had a ring on my finger. I played with it and it got lost somewhere. Maybe in fell in my purse when I was taking out the pills from headache? Oh yes, here it is!”
I am not taking any part in this search for the ring. I still have no idea, that I am there for her as a armor-bearer. It still seems to me that we are just going together, as long as we have the same destination, and before that I was just a guest at her house and we were just talking. A silly Sancho Panza.
Translated by me
Here's the beginning:
Any philanthropist knows, that people do charity not to help others, but to help themselves. A girl from Nizhnii Novgorod, a supermodel, a wife of an English lord, a mother of three and a happy clubber builds playgrounds in Russia’s province, manages to overcome all bureaucratic difficulties and fight the local officials. Why does she need this? What is Natalia Vodianova afraid of? What does she save herself from?
A silver “Mercedes” is rolling down the narrow road, meandering in the fields of West Sussex. It is raining outside. It’s evening. A fox crosses the road right in front of the car’s lights. Me and a supermodel Natalia Vodianova, a 28-year-old wife of a British baron, are sitting on the back seat of the car. It’s a long road to London. All the lightening inside the car is her cell phone in my hand. And I read in it in English:
“I wanted to ask them to forgive me for not being able to turn back time and to prevent the tragedy, that happened to them…”
Natalia is wearing an evening dress and a black mantle that dissolves her in the dark. More deeper in the dark, under the seat, her stilletos sparkle – a thin metallic heels of her shoes. Rare lanterns light up only her face – a face of a scared child – and light hair. And her thin hands in red gloves above the elbows. She is turning a ring on her left pinky, put on the glove.
Not to start crying she starts a conversation with the driver about everyday stuff. For example, about the central heating:
“Can you imagine, all the heat comes up and it gets so hot in the bedrooms, that I even got a headache while I was putting the kids into beds.”
“Yes, madam, I have the same problem in my house” – says the driver calming, he feels that madam is going to cry if he won’t talk with her about the heating or about her daughter’s school play, but he doesn’t understand why she is so upset. – “How did the girl’s play went, madam?”
“Oh, it was wonderful, she played an angel. Can you imagine – they hardly managed to pursued her to play an angel. She doesn’t want to be an angel. She wants to be a girl. Or at least a rabbit or a kitten.”
The driver doesn’t know Russian. He has no idea that it is me why Natalia is about to cry. It is my who asked her to tell, how she opened one of her playgrounds in Beslan. She started to tell, but she couldn’t go on.
She took the cell phone and gave it to me to read a message, a long letter to her friend, a detailed report about two days she spent in Ossetia. While Natalia is talking to the driver I am reading in her cell that the new cemetery in Beslan, where the killed children are buried, is called “Angelovo”. God, everything is under your will! What king of a normal girl would like to play an angel in the Christmas school play after this!
“Oh, Valera, have you seen a ring?” – Natalia turns the lights on in the car and starts to search on the seat and under the seat.
“What ring, Natalia?”
“I had a ring on my finger. I played with it and it got lost somewhere. Maybe in fell in my purse when I was taking out the pills from headache? Oh yes, here it is!”
I am not taking any part in this search for the ring. I still have no idea, that I am there for her as a armor-bearer. It still seems to me that we are just going together, as long as we have the same destination, and before that I was just a guest at her house and we were just talking. A silly Sancho Panza.
Translated by me
Candy Lady
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You are welcome! 
Second part (not the last
Oasis in hell
A few hours before this, I get out of the rented car (my shoes are wet, the driver got lost and I had to get out of the car and ask for a direction) and enter the wooden and a bit rickety door of Natalia’s house – in press, constantly talking about her happiness mixing it with rumors about her upcoming divorce, they call this house a manor. It is called “Mill house”, because it was rebuilt of the old mill. The wooden stairway leading to the living room was decorated with a knitted countryside-styled rug and ended up with a small gate that closed the stairway from children, so they don’t fall down. Natalia’s youngest children – Neva and Victor – were riding that very gate with a happy yell and risking to pinch their fingers.
Natalia wore a faded stretched skirt, washed-out shapeless sweater and her hair was messy. She was trying to cook a dinner for children. A whole army of women, as if they were picked from a home catalog, was helping her: a nicest buxom Russian-speaking nanny, a decisive-looking strict female friend in square glasses, first assistant with a laptop, second assistant with a car keys from Vauxhall (Opel in Britain) – she was about to go to do some orders, but couldn’t leave for some reason.
Angel Neva was running around a huge kitchen table and kept throwing a pink teddy pig to me every circle she made. Angel Viktor crawled onto his mother’s laps, took my milk and started to pour it from milk jug into a cup and then from a cup into the milk jug, while little boy is allergic to milk. Neva took all the cups away from Viktor and he started crying disconsolately. And then the eldest Natalia’s son Lucas came from school and brought a candle he made himself, which Viktor instantly broke and started crying again, but not because of the candle, but because he was hungry – the turkey was cooking too long…
Natalia was amazingly patient with her kids. She told crying Viktor: “My sweet little darling”, she said to naughty Neva: “Give him at least one cup”, she mended the broken candle so good, that Lucas, who went out to wash his hands, didn’t even notice anything. Natalia told me, that that house where she lives in Sussex – is an absolutely wonderful place, that there is a river outside, that about every three months her friends come over and they play intellectual games. That you can run to prepare for the Paris charity marathon (“Oh! I am training for 6 months already! I can easily run 12 miles, and I could run 24, but my knees hurt because of running and I don’t like running at all in general.”)
Or you can ride a bicycle, and once right before a big contract she was riding around and fell over the rudder, scratched her face on the rocks and lost the contract.
“And those people, you know, they didn’t even send me flowers, knowing what happened to me. That is so weird. I think you should respect a person, if you hire him for such a big money” – she shrugged her shoulders and it looked as if she believes that for advertising campaigns they hire a person, but not just his face and skin – if you are talking about cosmetics.
Viktor was raving. Neva was teasing a car in the corner. About cats: one of them belonged to Neva, the other one belonged to Viktor, an Lucas’ was ran over by a car the second he went outside. Lucas kept trying to tell me this story properly and in English, but that only made the atmosphere more noisy. And Natalia was showing the wonders of patience: “Just a minute, my baby… Don’t torture the cat, please, honey… Be patience, my love, you’ll have a chance to tell your story a bit later…’
It might have been not polite, but I asked her, how she manages to be so patient and stays calm in all that blond angel-looking gang?
“And how else?” – Natalia was surprised. – “How can I be patient about the rest of the world if I can’t even be patient with my own kids?”
And that moment I got it – the main occupation for a woman named Natalia (a celebrity, a beautiful rich woman) – is to be patient. That is why a model sits for hours and patiently waits for a stylist to make her hair and for photographer’s assistant to arrange the lightening.
In return she provides herself safety – at least in her own house.
She sincerely thinks that this house full of noisy kids is her safety island in the middle of a cruel world you can never escape. An oasis in hell, if you please.
The moment you stick your nose outside (like Lucas’ cat), you’ll know that is true. You can build a career, you can marry a baron, you can move to New York and by a spectacular penthouse on Manhattan with your young husband, but one day you’ll come up to the window with a beautiful view and see how Mohammed Atta is crushing into the left tower of the World Trade Centre on a high-jacked plane. Natalia saw it. And you can enter the suit of an expansive hotel in Moscow, fall on the bed, switch on the TV and see how some terrorist called Magas or Colonel is high-jacking the Beslan school.
Because around us is hell. We are in hell. All we can do is make some small asylums in this hell with some kind of wellbeing – like her house, that smells a baked turkey (“Oh! It’s ready now! We are about to eat, my darling!”), like playgrounds for children that she builds in small Russian towns, like fashion shows and finally like good parties.
Along with the turkey she puts a DVD-player on the table. Natalia turns on the cartoon about “Cheburashka” and instantly children stop fighting and screaming and are glued to the screen, because there is an oasis of happiness for them. And Natalia goes upstairs to change into the evening dress, high heels and red gloves over her elbows, because you can only leave your fortress well-prepared – with weapon and armor.
Translated by me
Second part (not the last
Oasis in hell
A few hours before this, I get out of the rented car (my shoes are wet, the driver got lost and I had to get out of the car and ask for a direction) and enter the wooden and a bit rickety door of Natalia’s house – in press, constantly talking about her happiness mixing it with rumors about her upcoming divorce, they call this house a manor. It is called “Mill house”, because it was rebuilt of the old mill. The wooden stairway leading to the living room was decorated with a knitted countryside-styled rug and ended up with a small gate that closed the stairway from children, so they don’t fall down. Natalia’s youngest children – Neva and Victor – were riding that very gate with a happy yell and risking to pinch their fingers.
Natalia wore a faded stretched skirt, washed-out shapeless sweater and her hair was messy. She was trying to cook a dinner for children. A whole army of women, as if they were picked from a home catalog, was helping her: a nicest buxom Russian-speaking nanny, a decisive-looking strict female friend in square glasses, first assistant with a laptop, second assistant with a car keys from Vauxhall (Opel in Britain) – she was about to go to do some orders, but couldn’t leave for some reason.
Angel Neva was running around a huge kitchen table and kept throwing a pink teddy pig to me every circle she made. Angel Viktor crawled onto his mother’s laps, took my milk and started to pour it from milk jug into a cup and then from a cup into the milk jug, while little boy is allergic to milk. Neva took all the cups away from Viktor and he started crying disconsolately. And then the eldest Natalia’s son Lucas came from school and brought a candle he made himself, which Viktor instantly broke and started crying again, but not because of the candle, but because he was hungry – the turkey was cooking too long…
Natalia was amazingly patient with her kids. She told crying Viktor: “My sweet little darling”, she said to naughty Neva: “Give him at least one cup”, she mended the broken candle so good, that Lucas, who went out to wash his hands, didn’t even notice anything. Natalia told me, that that house where she lives in Sussex – is an absolutely wonderful place, that there is a river outside, that about every three months her friends come over and they play intellectual games. That you can run to prepare for the Paris charity marathon (“Oh! I am training for 6 months already! I can easily run 12 miles, and I could run 24, but my knees hurt because of running and I don’t like running at all in general.”)
Or you can ride a bicycle, and once right before a big contract she was riding around and fell over the rudder, scratched her face on the rocks and lost the contract.
“And those people, you know, they didn’t even send me flowers, knowing what happened to me. That is so weird. I think you should respect a person, if you hire him for such a big money” – she shrugged her shoulders and it looked as if she believes that for advertising campaigns they hire a person, but not just his face and skin – if you are talking about cosmetics.
Viktor was raving. Neva was teasing a car in the corner. About cats: one of them belonged to Neva, the other one belonged to Viktor, an Lucas’ was ran over by a car the second he went outside. Lucas kept trying to tell me this story properly and in English, but that only made the atmosphere more noisy. And Natalia was showing the wonders of patience: “Just a minute, my baby… Don’t torture the cat, please, honey… Be patience, my love, you’ll have a chance to tell your story a bit later…’
It might have been not polite, but I asked her, how she manages to be so patient and stays calm in all that blond angel-looking gang?
“And how else?” – Natalia was surprised. – “How can I be patient about the rest of the world if I can’t even be patient with my own kids?”
And that moment I got it – the main occupation for a woman named Natalia (a celebrity, a beautiful rich woman) – is to be patient. That is why a model sits for hours and patiently waits for a stylist to make her hair and for photographer’s assistant to arrange the lightening.
In return she provides herself safety – at least in her own house.
She sincerely thinks that this house full of noisy kids is her safety island in the middle of a cruel world you can never escape. An oasis in hell, if you please.
The moment you stick your nose outside (like Lucas’ cat), you’ll know that is true. You can build a career, you can marry a baron, you can move to New York and by a spectacular penthouse on Manhattan with your young husband, but one day you’ll come up to the window with a beautiful view and see how Mohammed Atta is crushing into the left tower of the World Trade Centre on a high-jacked plane. Natalia saw it. And you can enter the suit of an expansive hotel in Moscow, fall on the bed, switch on the TV and see how some terrorist called Magas or Colonel is high-jacking the Beslan school.
Because around us is hell. We are in hell. All we can do is make some small asylums in this hell with some kind of wellbeing – like her house, that smells a baked turkey (“Oh! It’s ready now! We are about to eat, my darling!”), like playgrounds for children that she builds in small Russian towns, like fashion shows and finally like good parties.
Along with the turkey she puts a DVD-player on the table. Natalia turns on the cartoon about “Cheburashka” and instantly children stop fighting and screaming and are glued to the screen, because there is an oasis of happiness for them. And Natalia goes upstairs to change into the evening dress, high heels and red gloves over her elbows, because you can only leave your fortress well-prepared – with weapon and armor.
Translated by me
Last edited by a moderator:
source youtube
the clash of the titans tvspots
more Medusa
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LV80fzCxpHE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yE1TBK5OT40
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nok81Ppott0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeO5uJdDllU
the clash of the titans tvspots
more Medusa
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LV80fzCxpHE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yE1TBK5OT40
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nok81Ppott0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeO5uJdDllU
Candy Lady
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Thanks for the trailers! Can't wait to see the movie!
Can't wait to see the movie!Candy Lady
Member
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Natalia Vodianova is not hungry anymore
Modeling is a glamorous gig, but it can also be harmful to your health, says Natalia Vodianova. The Russian-born beauty, whose face and figure have been used to sell Calvin Klein, Yves Saint Laurent, and Marc Jacobs, says she used to be a scrawny mess, down to just 106 pounds and losing her hair. 'It just sort of happened to me without me knowing it', Vodianova told us yesterday. 'My weight was never an issue before I started modeling'. The consequences of the catwalk are the subject of next week’s 'Health Matters: Weight and Wellness in the World of Fashion', sponsored by the Harris Center at Mass. General. (Vodianova will be joined on the panel by high falutin fashion designer Michael Kors and Vogue’s Anna Wintour.) Reached yesterday in London, where she lives with her husband and three children, Vodianova said many girls begin modeling at a very young age – 15 and 16 – and then try to maintain that same slender look as they develop. 'To be a model is a gift that you are born with. Not everyone is meant to look like that', she says. 'The industry should employ women who are mature. Don’t put a delicate flower into this world of great disorder and then throw them out'. Asked about the gold standard of supermodels, Gisele Bundchen, Vodianova called Tom Brady’s bride a consummate pro. 'She hardly drinks, doesn't smoke, and does not party. Gisele is very smart and treats modeling as a business, not a lifestyle', said Vodianova. Registration for the March 22 event closes today, and we’re told it’s already at capacity. But there are still a few tickets – at $500 a piece – for the reception beforehand. (Ticket info is here.) In addition to the panelists, VIPs who have RSVP’d include Steve and Jill Karp, Rue La La’s Ben Fischman, Eliot Tatelman of Jordan’s Furniture, hotelier Dick Friedman, WBUR’s Paul LaCamera, liquor store magnate Carl Martignetti, and Steven Kolb of the Council of Fashion Designers of America".
source: www.boston.com
Modeling is a glamorous gig, but it can also be harmful to your health, says Natalia Vodianova. The Russian-born beauty, whose face and figure have been used to sell Calvin Klein, Yves Saint Laurent, and Marc Jacobs, says she used to be a scrawny mess, down to just 106 pounds and losing her hair. 'It just sort of happened to me without me knowing it', Vodianova told us yesterday. 'My weight was never an issue before I started modeling'. The consequences of the catwalk are the subject of next week’s 'Health Matters: Weight and Wellness in the World of Fashion', sponsored by the Harris Center at Mass. General. (Vodianova will be joined on the panel by high falutin fashion designer Michael Kors and Vogue’s Anna Wintour.) Reached yesterday in London, where she lives with her husband and three children, Vodianova said many girls begin modeling at a very young age – 15 and 16 – and then try to maintain that same slender look as they develop. 'To be a model is a gift that you are born with. Not everyone is meant to look like that', she says. 'The industry should employ women who are mature. Don’t put a delicate flower into this world of great disorder and then throw them out'. Asked about the gold standard of supermodels, Gisele Bundchen, Vodianova called Tom Brady’s bride a consummate pro. 'She hardly drinks, doesn't smoke, and does not party. Gisele is very smart and treats modeling as a business, not a lifestyle', said Vodianova. Registration for the March 22 event closes today, and we’re told it’s already at capacity. But there are still a few tickets – at $500 a piece – for the reception beforehand. (Ticket info is here.) In addition to the panelists, VIPs who have RSVP’d include Steve and Jill Karp, Rue La La’s Ben Fischman, Eliot Tatelman of Jordan’s Furniture, hotelier Dick Friedman, WBUR’s Paul LaCamera, liquor store magnate Carl Martignetti, and Steven Kolb of the Council of Fashion Designers of America".
source: www.boston.com
Candy Lady
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Natalia as Medusa:
source: ANV
source: ANV
Candy Lady
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One more part from the interview (there will be about 3 more parts
Feelings of an armor-bearer
Already wearing all her armor Natalia went to kiss her children goodnight. Then we got in the car and went to London, where on one of the many parties the supermodel Vodianova was supposed to meet the super football player Arshavin so she could invite him to her charity Love Ball - in other words make it happen that Arshavin would like to give some money.
And so we are driving in the dark. The fox crossed the road. I've read about the Beslan. Natalia's changed her mind about crying.
Natalia asks me what do I think about the idea of building playgrounds in Russia. I really like this idea: it's very rare example in charity when something is done for everyone, and you don't have a question why do you help these kids, but not the other - why the ones with the heart disease, but not the ones with viscidosis.
I ask Natalia in return: how did she come up with the idea of building playgrounds?
"Play is very important. Childhood is a hard time. A child that had some sort of trauma gets completely lost when he gent on our playground, he runs around with happy eyes and climbs the stairs..."
"As if all kids have had some kind of trauma..."
Natalia's silent.
"Are you saying that ALL kids have had some mental trauma in the past?"
Natalia's silent.
"Are you saying that YOU have had a mental trauma in childhood?" - I finally get it.
Natalia nods. A long pause. It is so quite in the "Mercedes" that you can hear how a conditioner works. It's raining outside. A fox on the road is eating a partridge that has been ran over by a car before us. That is why they are running here, I guess. Rare street lanterns light up Natalia's face and hair. She has such a face that you just want to turn into an old man and just to caress her without any romantic note and say "Wait a bit, little girl, we are almost in London, and there will be lights, lights... A Christmas eve chaos... A bright crowd on the streets". Expensive cars arrive to the place where the party is held, and there is no place to park even if you are a celebrity. We'll have to walk about 50m from the car to the entrance under the rain. And you are wearing an evening dress and high heels. I'll offer you my hand and lead you to the entrance. And the people will stare and wonder: the great Natalia Vodianova with some old punk who looks like Shrek and has never been seen in the media before. And you will whisper to me, that if photographers appear would I be so kind to take your mantle - as if you're instructing me in case some shooters appear.
Because this is a battle for you. And I am your armor-bearer tonight. And all these heels and dresses and rings and mantles - are weapon. And do you know what an armor-bearer feels when he walks you - Natalia Vodianova, a supermodel in her full battle dress - down the London street? It feels as if you carry a small bird in your hand.
Translated by me
Feelings of an armor-bearer
Already wearing all her armor Natalia went to kiss her children goodnight. Then we got in the car and went to London, where on one of the many parties the supermodel Vodianova was supposed to meet the super football player Arshavin so she could invite him to her charity Love Ball - in other words make it happen that Arshavin would like to give some money.
And so we are driving in the dark. The fox crossed the road. I've read about the Beslan. Natalia's changed her mind about crying.
Natalia asks me what do I think about the idea of building playgrounds in Russia. I really like this idea: it's very rare example in charity when something is done for everyone, and you don't have a question why do you help these kids, but not the other - why the ones with the heart disease, but not the ones with viscidosis.
I ask Natalia in return: how did she come up with the idea of building playgrounds?
"Play is very important. Childhood is a hard time. A child that had some sort of trauma gets completely lost when he gent on our playground, he runs around with happy eyes and climbs the stairs..."
"As if all kids have had some kind of trauma..."
Natalia's silent.
"Are you saying that ALL kids have had some mental trauma in the past?"
Natalia's silent.
"Are you saying that YOU have had a mental trauma in childhood?" - I finally get it.
Natalia nods. A long pause. It is so quite in the "Mercedes" that you can hear how a conditioner works. It's raining outside. A fox on the road is eating a partridge that has been ran over by a car before us. That is why they are running here, I guess. Rare street lanterns light up Natalia's face and hair. She has such a face that you just want to turn into an old man and just to caress her without any romantic note and say "Wait a bit, little girl, we are almost in London, and there will be lights, lights... A Christmas eve chaos... A bright crowd on the streets". Expensive cars arrive to the place where the party is held, and there is no place to park even if you are a celebrity. We'll have to walk about 50m from the car to the entrance under the rain. And you are wearing an evening dress and high heels. I'll offer you my hand and lead you to the entrance. And the people will stare and wonder: the great Natalia Vodianova with some old punk who looks like Shrek and has never been seen in the media before. And you will whisper to me, that if photographers appear would I be so kind to take your mantle - as if you're instructing me in case some shooters appear.
Because this is a battle for you. And I am your armor-bearer tonight. And all these heels and dresses and rings and mantles - are weapon. And do you know what an armor-bearer feels when he walks you - Natalia Vodianova, a supermodel in her full battle dress - down the London street? It feels as if you carry a small bird in your hand.
Translated by me
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