Colette Báthory

What a commanding look! Colette Báthory nestles lasciviously into the silk cushions of the royal alcove… Look at this delicate little rococo arabesque, supple and pliant, with a slender waist and lush Sephardic ringlets framing her youthful visage. A mesmerizing blend of mischievous charm and diva-like allure as the little one lolls about – perhaps she is looking up from a book that you have not noticed, of course. You are too fascinated by the dreamy sensuality of her petal lips, the velvety soft cheeks, shaded by the long lashes of her doe eyes… Do you miss the clarity of her gaze, in that look in her eyes? The relentless hardness and willpower concentrated in them? Watch out: Colette is a coquettish little mistress of the devil. The inveterate sinfulness of this excitingly curvy nymph’s body is inhabited by a wide-awake spirit.

Colette Báthory about herself.

I’ve been traveling all my life. Where is my home? As a child, I never lived in the same place with my parents for long – in France, Israel, East Africa, India… eventually I went to London alone, then to New York. Of all the places in the world, New York is the city I come from. Yet my roots trace deep into the history of Europe. My grandmother came from the Nadásdy family – or Carpathian witches, who knows! The answer lies in the darkness of time. Women like me are crafted from the essence of witches and queens. Or regentesses accused of witchcraft. Solitary figures whose names have been erased, yet whose lineage endures, right down to me, their youngest living witness. Our enigmatic strength is born of our spirit of contradiction: it is precisely when we stand alone against superiority that we are most deeply attuned to ourselves, and can truly become who we are.

Colette, Colette, who are you? What are you? I am a Hungarian French, French American, a girl from New York in Berlin. This Berlin, this island of freedom in a world that is once again becoming more threatening, is the city of my choice. I have come to conquer it.