- Fashion Blog
4:28 am

When Your Hair Fails You…

21/12/2005, Paris

When Your Hair Fails You…

My hair had grown sooo long I don’t even know how to fix it. Every day is a bad hair day here in Paris… it’s alright, the couture is more important than my coiffure. I don’t give a flying french franc euro even if I look like a school teacher gone wild.












Ensemble: coat by Zara, cashmere turtleneck and boots by Yves Saint Laurent, cashmere cardigan by Marni, watch, bag and belts by Chanel, eyeglasses by Alain Mikli, gloves by Hermes.

I know you’re all excited with my loot. I’ll post them when I have the time. Soon. Goyard. Vuitton. Chanel. The most fabulous jeweled bag from Charles Jourdan. Sephora. Longchamp. Colette.

Time is precious, time is valuable. I’m in the most beautiful city in the world and I’m not gonna waste any precious second of it.

I love you all and I miss you.


3:21 am

Vive à Paris!

18/12/2005, Paris

Vive à Paris!

Paris, is no doubt, the most beautiful city in the world.

Fuck it though; the most important thing is the fact that looking at some of today’s pictures, I realized that I actually have a jawline!!!!! Seriously. For years, I’ve always thought I have a double chin and a nonexistent jawline.

Even my gal pal asked me whether or not I had an operation done.

What fuckin operation? Has it occured to her that there’s actually healing time involved when it comes cosmetic (surgical) procedures?


Enjoy these pictures as much as I did.



(Yes, I had to do the metro, even once, despite wearing my Lagerfeld Gallery fox)

(It’s always great to have one of your gal pals with you.)


Highlight of the Day: Effortless Entrance at Vuitton

I really wasn’t planning to go to Louis Vuitton because I like to delude myself into thinking I’ve matured and switch to Goyard. But since we’re on Champs-Elysees anyway, we just had to go inside the mamoth building that is responsible for fucking up everyone’s finances.

As we walked near the store, we noticed about 500 people waiting in line just to get in. No, there wasn’t any event – it was just a regular LV shopping day. I think they let people in batches of 4 or 5.

I told Tina, I ain’t joining THAT queue. I’m gonna go straight to the door.

So I did.

I asked the doorman politely… "bonsoir. are you still open?"

Doorman shot me back a scary face… then smiled… "for you, yes. come in!"

And off inside the store I went.

No queues. No hassles.

Tina on the other hand, ended up outside – I was almost done by the time she got in.

BTW, I know most of you go here to read what I have to say (and not look at pictures and just… well… pictures) – I know it’s been one huge pictionary event in the past month.

I have to admit I’m a bit exhausted of travelling. All I want to do is come back home.


More updates later as always.


1:36 pm

Magical!, Beat That, Oprah!

17/12/2005, Paris


Paris never ceases to amaze me.

The architechture, the intricate details of each and every little (and large) thing constructed in this city, the lights and sounds of Champs-Elysees, the boutiques along (and off) Rue St. Honore, the glamour of Place Vendome… I’m trying to digest and absorb as much as I want but this city is just pure sensory overload!

If Paris is sensory overload to me, then I must be sensory overload to them.

I’m telling you…. I walked for about 4-5 hours and no less than a hundred of Parisian boys (and men) from all walks of life whether rich, poor, groomed, business-man suited or public works (one of them is a garbage truck driver and another one was a delivery person) waved, hissed, smiled, winked, "blown a kiss", whistled, stopped, looked, said "hi!" and screamed "where are you from?". I’m sure it’s this exotic piece of brown ass that they want to fuck.

Let them eat cake!

Boulangerie et Patisserie rather.






Beat That, Oprah!

I saw this teeny, tiny, unknown-to-most-folks, shop while strolling around along Rue St. Honore.


Most of the other shops were closed because it was rather late.

I stopped to look at the windows and saw there was 1 guy (presumably store manager/sales staff). I opened the door and being the gentleman, he let me in.

I told him I’m looking for x bag in x color. He brought it, I didn’t like it and asked for another color.

After a minute or two, I said, "I’ll take it". We chatted where I get my Goyard, I said Harvey Nicks HK.

I asked him, "what time do you usually close? I’d love to come back tomorrow."

Then he said "Normally at 7, but you’re special so I’ll open the door for you."

Tina asked the gorgeous man as to what time it was… the guy said it’s 8:20PM


I giggled like a school girl and whispered to my gal pal Tina

"Beat That, Oprah!"

Meet my latest acquisition.


It’s 6:35AM here in Paris. I’m going back to bed.


2:29 am


16/12/2005, Uncategorized

Mauricio Oh Mauricio

There’s only one person in this world that I can rely to in times of sadness and despair.

First we talked about those faggots in denial.

i’d rather dance with you says:
what is it with the closet? why do people seem intent on staying in it?

i’d rather dance with you says:
does it come with a champagne bar? naked go go boys? what?

Bryanboy says:
i have no idea darling

i’d rather dance with you says:
if this closet is so fabulous, why am i not on the list?


i’d rather dance with you says:

not many people can say they look like dior couture when naked

i’d rather dance with you says:

she looks like john galliano designed her

i’d rather dance with you says:



9:55 pm


15/12/2005, Riga


Believe it or not, I have dial-up internet access in my room – I only found out today.

I slept early last night because I wasn’t feeling well. Actually, I felt shit since Tuesday, I think. Last night was the worst though; I was literally shivering because of the cold and my bed was drenched with sweat.

I’m feeling much better now. I had 4 paracetamol tablets since last night.

I just got back from a quick walk around OLD TOWN (the area where I’m staying) and boy, all I can say is that Riga *IS* beautiful.

I love the architechture, the colors and the details.




It’s a shame I’m leaving tomorrow

It’s also a shame I’m alone here – I don’t have pictures of myself in Riga.

That’s alright though… I’m sure there’s gonna be a next time.

Usually, however, "next time" is synonymous to "probably never again".

Only time can tell whether or not there will be a next time.

I love Riga.



It’s just that I wish there was someone with me right now.


It’s 3:48PM here. I need to sleep at around 7PM so I’ll wake up no later than 3AM because I have to be at the airport by 5AM. I also need to pack my shit, as always.

I’ll arrive in Paris first thing tomorrow morning with a quick stop in Oslo, Norway.

I can’t wait. The anxiety and the suspense is literally killing me.

I love you all, as always.


12:20 am

Roarin Riga

15/12/2005, Riga

Roarin Riga

I got up at 4:30AM earlier this morning, packed my bags and arrived at the airport just in time.

I guess it’s goodbye to all things Scandinavian. Goodbye Sweden. Goodbye Copenhage. Goodbye Scandinavia.


Hello Eastern Europe. Hello Baltics!

As someone who is addicted to travelling, I’m no stranger when it comes to hotels and resorts.

From the Sanderson Hotel in London (where I booked a massive penthouse to celebrate my 19th birthday party) to the Sheraton Laguna Nusa Dua in Bali (where I spent New Year’s Eve with my Indonesian friends and had an enormous 2-floored suite and my own private pool), I know how to detect good and bad service.

I’m currently here in Riga, Latvia staying at the Ainavas Boutique Hotel.


I got out of the cab, left my luggage outside the hotel entrance (AKA the sidewalk) and went straight to reception.

I told the girl I want to check-in and I need help with my luggage.

She then gave me this smug look on her face and asked me for my last name.


I wanted to slap the fat blonde receptiobitch, pull her hair, drag her to the ground and spit on her face only a rapist can.

I have 5 huge bags with me. She didn’t acknowledged my request for help with my luggage. There was no doorman/bellhop/nothing.

After 2 or so minutes, I decided to take matters into my own hands and went out of the hotel to carry my bags one by one.

THANK GOD I tipped the taxi driver about 8 Euros – no wonder he watched out for my bags.

He carried all my bags to the lobby and it’s only at that time when the hotel boys arrived.

Fucking slow bitches.

The misery doesn’t even end there.

Once I settled into my room, I called the female receptiobitch and asked whether or not they have internet access.

She said yes, they do have internet access and I need some codes if I have my own laptop.

I told her, ok, will you please send someone to my room so I’ll have those codes?

She said yes.

5 minutes.

10 minutes.

15 minutes.

Why are they taking so long?

I read the hotel’s room service menu and decided to call the restaurant so I can place my order.

Nobody picked up the fucking phone after calling them several times. I figured they might be busy so I’ll call them later.

20 minutes. Still no person to help me with my internet problem.

25 minutes.

30 minutes.

I said that’s it. I’m going downstairs and get those codes and borrow a LAN cable.

So I did.

Receptiobitch gave me the codes and the LAN cable.

I went upstairs back to my room and to my dismay, I still have no internet access.

I called reception and a guy answered. He said one of his colleagues will go up to my room in 30 minutes. Since he was there, I complained how nobody at room service is picking up their phone. He said he’ll get the chef to call me.

The chef called after a couple of minutes and it was only at that time that I got to place my order.

UGH! My blood is boiling.

No wonder my European friends asked me "WHY RIGA?" or "WHY LATVIA?" or "IT’S EASTERN EUROPE!". A Swedish acquaintance even said "that’s the 4th world".



In fairness to them, their rooms are quite clean and cozy to be honest. They’re not the best but they remind of some hotel rooms in the Philippines.

I also like my courtyard view…


not sure about the view above it though…


It was the chef himself who delivered the food to my room. It was scrumptious.


I’ve been here for about 3 hours and the only thing that has been good so far is the immigrations officer who stamped my passport.

Boy he was hot.

So yes boys and girls, I don’t have internet access in my room.

I’m completely disconnected from the rest of the world.

Thank god there’s an internet cafe (wi-fi) about 50 meters from the hotel.

I’ll sleep early tonight, wake up early tomorrow, roam around, take pictures and fly my ass to Paris. I’m really looking forward to it.

For some strange reason, I’m feeling quite depressed.

I have no idea why.

It’s like, I have this lump on my throat or something.

Hopefully Paris will lift my mood up.

I love you all and I miss you all.


4:23 am

Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax to Death

14/12/2005, Random Cheesemax

Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax to Death

My sincerest apologies to each and every one of you for not doing a Random Cheesemax post in ages as I have been sailing the seven seas only a solo traveler can.

1. My Copenhagen photo album is up. Click here for photos. I told my gal pal Tina D. earlier than most of my pictures in Copenhagen were taken during the night time because that’s the only time I’m with someone. In response, she told me that all I have to do is to wait for Paris (she’ll arrive on Thursday), we’ll create a spectacle of ourselves and then we’ll camwhore to death.


2. Someone book me for an impromptu liposuction as soon as I get back. Damn European cold weather fucked my Daria Werbowy weight-to-height proportion. It’s bathing suit season in the friggin third world and the Anorexia Anonymous gang will bawk at the weight gain I suffered in the past month.



Passport3. Despite the fact that it has the same color as a first-world citizen’s snot, I value these little booklets filled with stickers and stamps as if they’re my birth certificate. I thought I dropped them at the Tivoli Park the other day and I spent no less than 4 hours looking for them (only to realize it’s in the safe).

I swear to god, I would die of shock, awe and horror if I lost my passport. I don’t want to be stuck in this beautiful yet lonely (and cold) city. I’d rather smuggle myself in FedEx boxes, one body part at a time, just to be back in the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives.

4. I’m leaving for Riga, Latvia first thing tomorrow morning. It’s 8:58PM here and my flight departs at 9:35AM. I almost missed my flight from Stockholm to Copenhagen. God knows what time I’ll wake up. I’ll finish this blog post, pack my stuff and get my beauty sleep.

I really need to leave Copenhagen. Please, for the life of god, pray that I get up before 6AM. I really don’t want to miss my flight.

5. I’ve sent far too much stuff via FedEx over the past few years and the only time they failed me is when I sent a package from Moscow to Stockholm. Speaking of which, I most definitely need to come back to Moscow so I can pick up that package. Even for 1 night (which isn’t what I promised my friend Jane.).

I sent a box today to my hotel in Paris which contains William (my white dead fox), a Vuitton bag, my Birkin and a Gucci bag. I figured out that I’m not gonna use them in Riga, Latvia (I’m only there for 2 days) and it’s best to send it straight to the motherland of all things fabulous, Paris.

They better not fail me.

6. I can’t, for the life of god, find my cellphone charger and my Filipino SIM card no wonder I’m incommunicado. I hope I’ll find them when I pack my stuff.

7. OH MY FUCKING GOD. My younger-by-2-hours Olsen twin Hannah (who I promise to marry in a couple of years time provided we have a clause on our prenup that I can have sex with any guy I want without her asking for $$$), is a total nutcase. 




You’re absolutely right Hannah. Just like what you said, we’re gonna be just like the two of these when we get older.


8. It’s always polite (and trust me, it doesn’t hurt) to say Goodbye.


9. They better have internet access at my hotel in Riga. Oh god.

10. Bryanboy loves people from San Diego, CA, Stevenage, UK, Reston, VA, Tranbjerg, Denmark, Fort Worth, TX, Berlin, Germany, Benninghofen, Germany, Nashville, TN, Jamaica, NY, Allston, MA, Kingston, ONT Canada, Milan, Italy, Hoevelaken, Gelderland Holland, Summit Argo, IL, Beacon Falls, CT, Assendlse, Roskilde, Denmark and of course, people from Heidelberg, Germany. Bryanboy loves each and every one of you. Identify your asses bitches by saying hi.

And there you have it. I’ll post as soon as I arrive in Latvia.

I love you all.


4:42 am

Filipino Hospitality

13/12/2005, Copenhagen

Filipino Hospitality

Who would have thought the cleaning ladies assigned to my floor are Filipino?

I went to the supermarket (oh yes) to buy some biscuits and when I got back, there were 3 cleaning ladies in my room.

One of them is Chinese and the other two (below) are from my motherland, the cesspit of the third world… the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives.


I overheard them talking in Filipino so I chatted them up.

They were complimenting me left and right – they said I’m sooo skinny and nice. The lady on the right thinks I’m a celebrity in the Philippines. I told them NOOOOOOOO!

Then they talked about how I have all these furs and bags and sunglasses and how they loved William (the dead fox).

We chatted for about 10 minutes and they gave me a ton of chocolates and capuccino sachets before leaving.

I met up again with the boys at 6PM for some shopping and dinner. We went to 2 department stores in Copenhagen, Illum and Magasin because most boutiques close early and it’s the department stores that are open late.

I bought some presents for random people, chocolates, a chic alarm clock (Jacob Jensen), a 24pc flatware set (Bodum) and a 3-pc set of serving bowls from Georg Jensen.


I didn’t asked them to be gift-wrapped cause I’m fedexing them home tomorrow.

Had a nice quiet dinner with the boys. Everyone was tired, including moi.

I’m feeling slightly feverish. Maybe because I haven’t been getting much sleep over the past few weeks. I’ve only been sleeping for an average of 3-5 hours a day. Even my eyes are totally fucked up.

In fact, everything is fucked up.

I haven’t had a facial in a MONTH and I’ve got all these things sprouting on my face. My skin is dry, I haven’t had a decent manicure and my hair is long.

Believe it or not, I’m starting to feel homesick.

Thank god my gal pal Tina D. is flying to Paris this Thursday.

I’ve decided not to go to Berlin anymore (not for just 2 days) so I’m going to Riga, Latvia on Wednesday for 2 nights… then it’s gonna be Paris galore starting Friday.

I can’t wait.

Cute guys, fantastic shopping, gastronomic delights, gorgeous scenery, everything!


Going back to Filipino hospitality…

When I got back to the room at around 8:30PM, there’s this HUGE plate of fruit waiting for me near my desk.


I thought that was very kind and sweet of them to do.

I’m touched.

More updates later.


3:18 pm

Straight Eye For The Queer Guy

12/12/2005, Copenhagen

Straight Eye For The Queer Guy


Imagine being the only complete fag and hanging out with 4 absolutely macho, 6-foot-plus, straight men.

God I love Sebastian… and his friends, Rasmus, Martin and Uli.

They sure do know how to cheer a guy up.


They came to my hotel at 8PM and rescued me from the wrath of loneliness and boredom. We all went to the Tivoli Amusement Park (for free!!!!!!!) which is right in front of my hotel.




They made me try this beverage – I don’t know what it is – but it’s like a fruity tea (with raisins, nuts etc) with alcohol in it. It’s quite nice actually.

We strolled around the park for about an hour then we went to a cafe to have more drinks.


We also went around Nyhavn. Unfortunately, most places in Copenhagen are closed on a Sunday so we went to this pub where Rasmus’ (the blonde guy) friend works. They bought me a glass of beer which is brewed especially for the Christmas season. I have to say it’s the first time I had beer in YEARS and it actually tasted quite nice.

Screw being fat – I never say no to alcohol.

They even showed me what HELL looks like. To these guys, a public toilet in Nyhavn is HELL. I was like, it’s not even hell to me. They obviously haven’t been to a public toilet (or any toilet whatsoever) in the third world.


After 2 trips to 7-11, cheap Danish hotdogs (I had 4 hotdogs!!!) and a ton of Vodka and fake sprite, we decided to just hang around in my room cause there was nowhere else to go.


That blonde woman on the picture has this teeny little voice and she sounds like a mouse. She claims she’s from Nashville, TN though the boys said she’s probably a cheap hooker.







I had a nice time with these guys.

It’s amazing how we probably have little in common but they were all nice and treated me like a real person regardless of our differences – i.e. I like boys, they like mussels. 

Sadly, you never see that kind of bonding in the third world… at least where I live.

I’ll never forget what Rasmus said (he’s the smartest one) – we’re all gonna die of bird flu.


6:37 pm

Cryanboy, Love Me, Video Surprise, Stockhome Excess

11/12/2005, Copenhagen, Loneliness, Love Life, Scandinavia, Stockholm



Download gettingclosermp3.mp3

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

I have never felt soo stupid.

I did cry for a little bit on my way back from the train station (where I dropped Jakob off cause he has to go back to middle of nowhere, Sweden) to the hotel. Thank god I had my brand spanking new Gucci sunglasses to conceal my tears.

(God I look awful on that picture.)

I’ll be honest. I haven’t cried in a long time.

Heck, I didn’t even cry when my grandfather died last year.

I don’t even know why the fuck I’m sobbing like a little bitch. 

It seems soo petty and shallow, you know.

I bet you he’ll probably laugh it off (or feel embarassed) when he reads this post. Am I right, Jakob? Hah! *kiddin*

Nah, he’s a really cool guy. I’m glad that we met. I have to admit though, the chances of me and him seeing again are pretty much slim to none. History repeats itself and it’s ***ALWAYS*** been like that whenever I go on holiday.

I told him yesterday when we were walking around Copenhagen, "Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Happy Birthday."

Here’s a funny pic taken on Friday (thanks Sebastian!!!!)


I look like a midget compared to all those guys. Ugh! Someone just make me 6 foot 3 already. Please? All I want for christmas is to be 6’3… or 6’4.

Love Me

While true love comes in the form of a Hermes croc birkin bag or a Vacheron Constantin watch, looking at some of these pictures will suffice when I’m feeling shit.

Thank you, thank you, thank you all for loving me.

(Bryangirl in the making. She’s only 16 months old. Thanks Sharon!)

(Here’s some Swedish lovin’ lovin from Ola and Linn… they’re some of Jakob’s friends.  The left sign says "Go for it Jaqy" aka Jakob.)

AL from the Philippines even had their maids do the Bryanboy pose. I love it! (Hello to JS!!)

I love girls from the land of kangaroos and gorgeous surfer boys.


Here’s a big one from Singapore. Bryanboy LOVES EACH AND EVERYONE of you.


Keep those pictures coming. A lonely, sobbing bitch like me can never have too much love. True love comes in the form of a photograph. Email prima facie evidence of your unconditional love to

Anyway, I need to get my head fixed. I’m gonna roam around Copenhagen for a bit, stock up on Georg Jensen and see more Danish people.

I need a good kick up my ass so I’ll *snap* *snap* back to reality.

Video Surprise

I have a little gay video surprise for you all.

I’m cleaning up my digital camera and came across this small video of me posing in a club. Niklas must have pressed the wrong button and took a video instead of a picture.

Click here to download/view it. It’s quite dark though. Oh well.

Stockhome Excess

Here’s more Stockholm pics for you to look at. Some of the pics were taken at Sturecompagniet. I’m telling you, that FOX goes everywhere!!!!










Ok, ok, I know she’s gorgeous. Her chinchilla is better than mine though. I love you NAOMI!