M M

HOW I BECAME FRIENDS WITH MARTIN

It wasn't even noon. In fact, I had not had breakfast yet, maybe just some pizza from two nights before...we just checked out of the room with Tour Eiffel views @ the Paris.

We sat and free drinks were served. I nodded my head as in "Hello" trying to look equally at everyone there. No one even bothered to look up.

Two men wearing all black, this lady carrying large supercoloured nails and lots of sparkly jewellery, an asian 70 year old with no sense of common spoken english (meaning the language).

We gambled hard on a $5 table. Everyone against the croupier I learnt (and sometimes even the croupier against himself). Maybe once in a while, if I was winning them all, I would bet $10, even one single time I went with $20. Well, that actually wasn't me; it was my room & gambling partner.

The handsome man in all black asked for his 3rd Mango Bellini (that I'd known of) after the shinning lady made her Black Jack. He drank it all and left the table. Came back and told me he found my new pure gold retainer necklace very interesting. I felt the same way but didn't have time to give him an answer. I just blushed and he left forever.

His friend, the one he was seated next to before leaving, the not-so-handsome man in all black came to me and began talking with a little bit of a buzz.

-What did he say?

I made a face.

Hellooooou! I am trying to gather some money here...

-Oh! Do I have to apologize for him again...?

I just explained that his friend had liked my pure gold retainer necklace and bet $10.

-He used to work for Gaultier.

As in the french couture designer Jean Paul Gaultier who brought striped Ts to earth.

At this point, my partner had to excuse myself from the table.

-He's called Martin Margiela, fyi.-Martin's friend pointed out.

I turned around looking for Martin Margiela of Maison Martin Margiela (what?!!He liked my pure gold retainer necklace!!I sure can call him friend!) but he wasn't there. He just vanished behind a slot machine and some tobacco smoke...

I doubled my $10 and kept gambling. My flow partner gave me the look. And the asian grandpa told me something that I didn't even try to understand. In fact, I didn't even think it was english, so I kindly ignored him without even noticing I was actually ignoring one of my let's-fuck-the-Paris-and-become-very-rich buddies.

She was assuming no one had seen Martin's face.

-No one has seen him. -she said.

I mean, maybe Gaultier when he was his boss...blahblahblah

The teacher kept talking about Margiela the myth. I had my mind in Las Vegas, NV. She asked again if any of us had been standing in front of him. My heart went crazy and my skin tone turned red-almost-violet. I smiled and the teacher said she didn't think so and put a 1990's picture of him on the projected power point.

-It's the one and only Martin Margiela photo ever. He must be older now.