cate underwood.: April 2012

I already have everything that cannot be bought for money.

 Show me a man that is capable to open a door in front of you, bring a breakfast into bed and get a star from the sky.

Actually, I’m ready to fight for a couple of hardcore hills on a bargain sale.

"Everybody lies." I’m not an exception.

 My last astonishment was a mestizo with eyes of different color. It happened in New York. For the first time in my life I dared to approach a stranger, just to look into those extraordinary eyes – one was of transparent-grey and the other one – of depthless-hazel. Most of the people would consider it a flaw, but I never saw anything so perfect. In some time I got hold of a book with description of devil’s appearance – Lucifer had the same eyes. It gives me the creeps even now.

 I can hardly live without a camera, pack of Parliament and freedom.

 It is perfectionism that annoys me most in myself. It is like a disease that progresses day by day and sometimes just drives me crazy.

 Since childhood I was told that I am beautiful. Actually I just sublimate well enough. Now days, when lines between beauty and ugliness are erased, I like to balance.

 The sexiest things in man are: fingers, scrub and culinary abilities.

 I’m damn lucky. But simple luck won’t get you far.

 The best gift in my life is my daughter.

 NYC – is a city that never sleeps. From Monday till Sunday included. And Halloween is another reason to have fun. “New Yorkers”, dressed in costumes go to work, walk the streets, children “trick-or-treat”, top managers work 19 hours per day and when I take a taxi to return home and get some sleep at about 4 a.m., I can see them through the big windows of a gym already (or still) on exercisers.

Fashion is a kind of lifestyle. It is not necessary to be in trend all the time. Just don’t betray yourself and live how you like to.

 I am superstitious. By no manner of means pour me anything when I hold the glass in the air.

 I am drawn to self-confident and moderately punctual men that smell of good perfume and tobacco.

Last December on catholic Christmas Eve, we decided to celebrate my departure to Paris. It all ended up doing a handstand, and I boarded the plane with a broken finger. My hand was in plaster up to the elbow. On the way back I spent two days in French airports without a penny in a pocket, and the New Year itself was celebrated with a shiner under my eye.

It was very funny when friend took shots of me sitting on a cooktop with a burning picture in my hands. I just didn’t notice how the burner turned on.