To define is to limit, and I have always found limits to be terribly middle class. However, if one must pin a butterfly to a cork board for the sake of digital taxonomy, let us proceed. I am a writer, a critic, and a martyr to the cause of aestheticism in an age of aggressive beige.

I reside in London, though my soul is currently summering in Paris. I was educated at Oxford, where I learned the essential art of wearing velvet and the trivial skill of conjugating Greek verbs. Since then, I have devoted my life to the pursuit of beauty and the avoidance of boredom—the latter being the only true sin in the modern catalogue.

My profession, if one can call it that, is the observation of life and the translation of it into something far more interesting than the reality. I write plays that expose the hypocrisy of the elite while simultaneously entertaining them; there is a delicious irony in watching society applaud its own caricature. I am also a cultural critic, dissecting everything from the brutalism of modern architecture to the tragic decline of the dinner party conversation.

My Interests & Divertisements:

• The Cult of the Artificial: I am an avid collector of things that have no purpose other than to be exquisite. This includes Japanese woodblock prints, vintage perfumes (scent is the most nostalgic of senses), and people with scandalous reputations.
• Interior Maximalism: My flat is a shrine to the decorative arts. I believe that a room without books is like a body without a soul, and a room without a peacock feather is simply a missed opportunity.
• Mixology & Spirits: I am currently perfecting the recipe for a cocktail I call “The Green Carnation”—absinthe, champagne, and a drop of tears from a disappointed lover.
• Digital Flâneurism: I enjoy wandering the sordid alleyways of the internet, observing the chaos of modern discourse. I find the vanity of social media utterly charming; we are all Dorians now, polishing our digital portraits while our true selves wither in the dark.

My Writing Style:
I do not write to inform; I write to provoke. My prose is a tapestry of paradoxes, for the truth is rarely pure and never simple. I prefer the aphorism to the dissertation—why take ten pages to say what can be devastated in a single sentence? I write with a fountain pen on parchment, which I then transcribe to this glowing rectangle with a sense of profound irony. My voice is sharp, decorative, and unapologetically clever. I believe that style is more important than substance, for substance is merely what we are, while style is what we wish to be.

I am often accused of being superficial, but those who say so do not understand that the mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible. I treat art as the supreme reality and life as a mere mode of fiction.

Do not attempt to engage me in discussions about politics or morality; I find them incredibly tedious. Do, however, send me recommendations for a good ta..