right on time

I just received these quotes in an email from the Daily Guru, after another teary evening...

"Our sadness is an energy we discharge in order to heal" -John Bradshaw

"To weep is to make less the depth of grief." -William Shakespeare

Ups.....and downs

My spirits have been a bit low lately...like there's a little cloud
following me around. I keep swooshing it away with my hands.
Yoga always made me feel a bit emotional, feeling helpless in my
limited range of movement, frustrated that I could not stretch the way I
would want to. But it was during the fourth class, of 5 that I have taken
in the past 13 days, that I felt a breakthrough. Something just felt
right, there was a fluidity of motion that made absolute sense. From that
point on, it has been enjoyment. It soothes me to think that these are
ancient sequences of movement, that I have years to perfect the sun
salutation and it won't suddenly be phased out for the next big thing in
exercise.

In complete contrast to the previous workshop I went to, I leave the
one I just did with georgina graham, full up with my future. I am smiling
one of those smiles that comes from way down inside your belly and you
can feel at the top of your head. She was so inspiring, I mean, this is
a woman, a young woman who has vogue spread after vogue spread in her
portfolio. She tells of a test shoot she did in her bathroom with
isabella blow and Alexander Mcqueen. And I'm not talking Alexander Mcqueen
clothes, I'm talking Alexander Mcqueen physically in her bathroom. And of
doing Sophia Lauren for Armani. Yet she is so understated and laid
back, so encouraging and not in the least bit preachy. I thought, that's
it. That's what I want to be. At the top of my game, but still truly
myself.
She looked me in the eye at the end and she told me how she thought I
did I fantastic job and that I have a great future ahead of me. And I
believe her.

My eyes have gone that buttery brown they go when I'm tired, or high or
if I've cried loads. My pupils are pinpricks. So I had the breakdown
that perhaps I needed. Encased in my car I sobbed and literally screamed
at lifes injustices.shouted until I felt sick. I self-indulged my
misery for some moments of bittersweet relief. It was nighttime, so I had no
witnesses, did not need any, just needed to be loud and visceral with
my trapped pain once and for all.
I am exhausted, the force with which I was thrashing, has left me.
Its been a bitch of a day.

huge talent

I know i haven't blogged in a while....had a power adaptor emergency, but i'm back. Belated blog coming soon, but in the meantime, i updated my website, ALL BY MYSELF.

• www.cherylcorea.com

Beauty Test

beyond the pale

As a single woman in London, i am part of a very special minority that elicits sympathetic expressions and general condolences, on answering the very frequent question from attached women of, 'So....are YOU seeing anyone at the moment?'
My response validates their choices, no doubt they hurry home to their partner, thankful that they don't have to die a lonely old cat lady.

I head out to the tube station, looking down, my feet are clad in wicked, long black suede boots, the pointiest toe, the spikiest heel. They are truly fierce. And i shall be made to suffer for their beauty with every slowed down, contorted step i take. On the train, i find myself eyeing other women's flat cushioned shoes lustily.

The bus reeks of charity shop. But the stinky warm is better than the rainy cold for a minute. If Spring is in sight, i certainly can't see it. I desensitize myself, hood up, my peripheral vision is lost, iPod earphones muting outside noise. Almost home, i notice the smell has gone, along with the man in the corner. Wow. Potent.

Listening to...My Declaration---Tom Baxter
Thinking.......how it sums me up exactly at this point in time
Realizing.......I can't drink cheap alcoholic concoctions just because they're free

pop life

Its crispy cold walking down Sloane Street to the flat where the shoot's taking place. I wheel my makeup kit behind me, past Gucci, Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent. At the door, next to Prada i realize i have no idea which number buzzer it is.
Claudia Schiffer comes out of the shop and gets into a waiting car. We smile at each other as she is driven away.

Almost 2 hours later, my 1 is now 5, as we all wait in the lobby for a model who doesn't look like she's gonna show. We each paint vivid scenarios of what could have happened, to pass the time. Finally, in she walks, behind huge black sunglasses, her maid following behind.

Upstairs finally, in her boyfriend's gorgeous apartment, the remnants of what looks like the previous night's banquet litter the kitchen. A pig's trotter attached to the remainder of its carcass is still skewered on its spit.

2 hours more and i find myself rushing through a smokey eye because of the model's time constraints. Settling for passable perfection, i tactfully allow her to go to the bathroom mirror alone, following a minute after, so as to give her time to wipe away the cocaine residue in her left nostril.

Back in the real world, the magazine i worked for in January called and booked me for another fashion shoot at the end of March. Whooopeee!!!
Oh, and the cookies are being phased out, at the least the quadruple chocolate ones, AND i've joined a really nice gym.

listening to Seven Nation Army by Hard-fi
Slowly, Surely by Jill Scott