You probably haven’t noticed, as I have barely noticed myself, but I’ve been going through some interesting change lately. Most of it has been unconscious and invisible.
I’ve been trying to take back my privacy.
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It strikes me anytime I am at an airport. Serene in my immaculate sweatpants and sneakers, rolling my extraordinary collection of Rimowa suitcases, going through the gates with ease and confidence, expertly taking out my extensive family of Apple devices as I go through security, everything packed and organized and elevated: I feel so rich.
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There is this place in Paris that everyone who loves the night has heard about. It’s red, dark and it is right here, in the middle of the city, not so far from from the Place Vendôme, the Palais Royal and the Louvre. You probably walk by it each time you visit.
It’s called Les Chandelles and it’s a sex club.
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