On this journey I will first be taking you to Paris where I will be posing for the talented photographer Christophe Mourthé, then I will be travelling by train to Germany where I will meet up with renowned photographer and editor of Marquis magazine Peter Czernich. You know, when I started my modelling career 8 years ago, the first fetish pictures I saw were in Marquis magazine and I believe the model’s name was Persephone. Later, shortly after my discovery of this magazine, I came across (on the web) a picture of Dita taken by Christophe Mourthé. I think neither Christophe nor Peter have any reason to envy other photographers. Not only are they just as talented now as they were 8 years ago, but through their camera lenses they have managed to capture an artistic fetish world with their precise lighting, well though out backgrounds, beautiful costumes… and of course lovely women.

Thus this is a trip for business (of course) but also for pleasure. Shooting with Mourthé for the first time and shooting once again with Peter 4 years later is a reality check for me not only on the evolution of my career, but of my evolution as a person. I remember like it was yesterday my 3-week trip with Martin to France, Belgium, Germany, and the Netherlands. I had fuchsia coloured hair, a round, sarcastic face, a plumper body, smaller breasts… a real doll! And now, I have become a woman. I am classier without being any less kinky. I don’t think I’ve lost my taste for a challenge or adventure. And judging by my latest photo shoots (shooting at –10C, in the desert, and on Hollywood boulevard wearing, of course, latex) I’ve concluded that I have not lost my passion for playing with the camera, seducing it, and bringing it (and you) with me into my universe. I wonder where adventure will take me this time… :)

2-3 August 2004

Well, I will spare all of you the details of my flights from Montreal to Amsterdam, and Amsterdam to Paris, except for two things; during my first flight, I was stuck between the window and a 4 year-old child, and that I almost missed my second flight because I was stuck in a crowd of people all trying to pass through the gates like myself! But, I arrived this morning (Tuesday the 3rd) at 8am, which was for me 2am. I took a taxi to my hotel, which cost me an arm and a leg because there was tons of traffic. Once I got to the hotel I started to feel dizzy from exhaustion and I wanted to go to sleep. However, if I went to sleep then, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, so I decided to go to the train station and buy in advance my ticket to Germany. I am only leaving on the 6th, but I wanted to get the ticket out of the way, and I told myself it would give me something to do.

When I got off the bus at the train station, there was a big fight between the police and a bunch of angry people who were screaming that they were going to free the injured woman the police had in the back of their car, and that they wanted to bring her to the hospital. One of the people in the mob tried to get the woman out of the car when the police had their backs turned. This caused the injured woman to yell, and for one of the two police officers to become furious and respond with blows with his billy club. The crowd was screaming, “Does anyone have a camera? Does anyone have a camera?” I was shocked by this violence and sympathised with the poor women who was howling in pain. I was starting to seriously feel the affects of my exhaustion, and so after watching the riot out of the corner of my eye, I shrugged my shoulders and continued on my way, leaving the crowd behind me. Afterwards, in the train station, I tried to buy my Thalys ticket at the automatic teller, but on the last step of the transaction the screen froze and everything was cancelled. “/$%%?$@?!” Well, then I waited in line for at least 20 minutes, my brain turning to mush, and when it was finally my turn I was cut off by someone who had been waiting at another booth that had just closed, and then by the guy behind me. On my 3rd attempt, an old man came out of who knows where and took my place at the booth to explain his problem to the clerk, bypassing the line entirely. He seemed lost and late for his train and needed explanations. I, with my “patient” Quebecoise nature, almost felt bad for the old man. The people behind me though started shouting obscenities at him because he had cut everyone off. Luckily, a booth freed up and I left behind me the crowd, which was still cursing at the man (Ouch!) I walked out of the train station with my ticket for Friday the 6th at 1pm, and told myself that for the trip back to the hotel, I would walk and do a bit of sightseeing. On the way, an Algerian hailed me to ask for a cigarette. I shrugged as a way of saying no, and he got quite angry with me. In an aggressive tone he told me that I was treating him like a dog by not responding verbally. I explained that my gesture only meant no and nothing more, but he was really mad. I decided to continue on my way, this time really annoyed by the behaviour of the people here.

It was passed noon and I was really beginning to have occasional losses of balance. I think it was due to the plane… But I continued walking here and there anyhow, admiring the lovely neighbourhood of Montmartre. The architecture here is old, and bistros, cafés, and tourist traps line the streets. The sidewalks are narrow and are shared by tourists, mini terraces and dog turds. (People spend a fortune to eat outdoors and it smells of crap!) But mostly, there is a plague of street vendors, mostly selling jewellery that, in my opinion, is too yellow to be real gold. It smells like a scam! On top of that there were really aggressive vendors. One of them grabbed me by the arm so that I would follow him, but I wasn’t spaced-out enough for that. No, I still had enough sense to realize that I was lost. I had not walked in exactly the right direction. This is because normally Martin takes care of directions. I’m too whimsical to remember how to get places.

Anyway, I spent 2 hours crisscrossing between the superb hill of Montmartre and cars driving at a furious pace. Here people drive in zigzags, parking at high speeds without checking if the person behind them will let them pass, they slam into pedestrians if the light turns green while they’re crossing… But it seems to work for them and everyone looks fine with it. For me, as long as I have my seat belt on in taxis, I’m happy :) hey hey.

Finally I ended up finding my hotel room, which is quite charming, cozy, and the window gives me a view of the neighbouring houses (Of course it also gives them a view of my room!) The hotel is clean, simple and relaxing. It’s perfect! I am writing you these words before I take a small nap as a storm has just broken. For me, there is nothing better than the sound of rain to make me sleep well…

-2am- August 4th.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Huh?! I woke up with a start and was under the impression that I was back in my hotel room in LA where the people next door were always having sex in the morning (see L.A. diary entry). But, I quickly realized that the knocking I heard was coming not from the next room, but from the hallway. Someone was knocking on the door of another room. He would gently rap on the door with his knuckles and wait a few seconds for someone to come open the door. But, nothing happened. So he then endlessly did it again, and again, and again… I told myself that the person in the other room must be in the shower. I thought that was what the stranger believed also, because he stopped after a good ten minutes, giving me the chance to fall back asleep. But after some time passed, he started knocking once again, only a little louder this time. Who knows? Maybe the person in the room was sleeping deeply? Like before, the stranger would knock a few times and wait a few seconds for someone to answer and then begin again. This circus had been going on for a half an hour or so at this point and I started to think that maybe there had been an accident inside the room; maybe the person was unconscious? Otherwise, why wouldn’t they answer? They must have known that everyone on our floor would be sleeping, and then wouldn’t let this man continue to knock at their door at 2am!? I opened my door and suggested to the stranger that he go to the front desk and ask for an extra key to the room. He apologized for the noise, and I closed my door and heard nothing for the next 15 minutes, allowing me to fall asleep once more. Bang! Bang! What? Again? To make it worse, this time the knocks were being made with the palm of a hand and were much louder. The stranger addressed a woman, asking her if he could at least have his jacket. What? Really? A lover’s quarrel at 3am?! So, I then called the front desk asking them to come up and fix the situation. Five minutes later I heard a man speaking to the stranger and opening the door to the room. Then, a volcano erupted in the hallway. The woman, (French) was not at all happy to have her door opened and demanded that the man (surely her boyfriend or husband) be taken away. Not only were they yelling all through the hallway, but about 20 minutes later the left the hotel to continue yelling at each other beneath my window. In one of the neighbouring houses, a child began crying loudly. I was finally able to fall back asleep around 4 in the morning, thinking about what had happened during the day. I’m not sure if my misadventures were due to simple bad luck, or if it is really always like this in France. This morning I thought about how my attitude had improved over the years. When I was a teenager I was rather temperamental and I had intense mood swings. Now, I try to think things over before I get carried away (it’s still hard sometimes!) I always knew that I was a very passionate person, but here I seem a little lamb at most compared to what I’ve been seeing since yesterday. I wonder if public arguments are common occurrences here, and if angry women hurl all types of objects at their lovers’ heads like we see in French films?

I am meeting Christophe Mourthé today, as well as Danny from the store Absolute Danny. The three of us are going to lunch to discuss tomorrow’s shoot. Later on in the afternoon I’ll be trying on the clothes that Danny has prepared specifically for my shoot. I’m very excited to meet both of them and to tell you all about it in my diary…