How many disco references can you squeeze into a single blog post? Well, I went to Sunvana, caught a serious case of disco fever, and decided to find out. You should be dancing, darling.

I suffer from reverse FOMO. Wherever I don't go, people miss out on me. It's a burden, really. So I did my best, and in the end everything came together rather beautifully.

I'm a woman of culture, so I went to celebrate Día de los Muertos at Valmoor. Gorgeous people, fabulous outfits, VOGEL behind the decks and an afterparty better kept secret among the living.

Nothing happened. I was merely away for some voluntary reflection. Now I'm back, I've discovered some interesting things beneath my house and I’m still setting new fashion trends.

Official statement addressing recent media allegations concerning Ms. Elytis' alleged arrest, criminal associations and absence from public life.

Before the fame and the beauty, there was Candy. She worked the streets, made powerful men a lot of money and eventually disappeared. I wasn’t planning to tell you about her. Then I found the photographs.

I’m beginning to feel undervalued. I own clothes. Good ones. Expensive ones. Yet here I was again, half naked beside a pool on a Monday. At least Sunvana made it worth getting undressed for.

I only went into the forest to bury some evidence. Then there was a mushroom, weird fairies, a bird man, the Spanish gang, a panda and possibly Kansas.

Harnesses, chains, latex, leather and Aurora relentlessly pounding the room with filthy beats. You already know how easily influenced I am. This time I wasn’t the only one.

I went to the Continental baths feeling slightly overexcited. Then I saw a gold ornament around a probing device, and things got out of hand. There were witnesses. I suggest you find them.

It seems my recent suspension test did not go unnoticed. So when Yuki opened her garage, I went in for another checkup. I think I’ve found my new mechanic.

Sometimes everyone knows but me. About the door policy, Berlin Klein, and probably several other things nobody bothered to tell me. So I’m fixing that.

The last stop before Saturday got completely out of hand was Afterneath. Underground, great music, people, and conversations and, yes, I should have known things were going downhill.

Hair done, makeup exactly where it belonged and, importantly, still wearing knickers. A very decent start to Saturday. Then Sahra and Lola arrived, the pills came out and standards began to slip.

Things escalated. There was a getaway car, a border somewhere to the south and a desperate need to disappear for a while. Then Polly texted me. She knew a place. Of course she did.

A new camera, a packed Boiler Room, Nina turning up the heat, old friends, possible birthday conspiracies and a whole lot of gorgeous people making each other look good.

I move around, meet people, do stupid things and wake up in strange alleys. But every now and then, I go back to the place where someone once politely told me I looked like shit.

It all started with music, lights and dancers, but by the end there had been therapy, multiplication, a talking pigeon and one moment that required me to have a word with myself.

Sunday. People to do, clubs to see, sales to raid and yet I still found time to take pictures with fewer distractions. The weekend was almost over.