Isabelle de Lully
Cultural manager
Language : French (mother tongue), German, English
Height : 165
Figure : ballerina
Hair color : caribbean tobacco
Eye color : velvet brown
Skin tone : crème de noix
Parfume : Annick Goutal “Un matin d´orage”
Favourite drink : Taittinger champagne
Favourite dish : breakfast in bed
Favourite restaurant : Bandol sur mer
Isabelle de Lully, the grace, the levity. Her character and her figure are inextricably linked: graceful and light, lively and sensitive, serene and pensive in a dreamy way…. Her sweetness makes you tremble. When a beauty like hers shows its innermost natural kindness instead of just cold flirtation, it is at once irresistible and touching. It makes you want to hold her tightly and at the same time protect her from too firm a touch. Is she not vulnerable like the iridescent wings of the butterfly? What is she hiding behind that radiant openness? Her eyes are flickering, so hungry. That flattering smile full of mischievous sparkle – or, as the French call it: gamine. This sylph is surrounded by a delicious mystery. It awakens the desire to spoil her with gifts, to pamper her as if she were some king’s fastidious mistress. In vain, however, is the will to possess her completely! You will only receive empty shells, but the secret, the smile escapes, like the whiff of warmth on the spot where she lay asleep, carefree and gentle.
Isabelle de Lully about herself.
I am a Bayadere, a temple dancer. I was created for the rapture of wonder, trained to indulge, gifted with happiness in blissful devotion. For I exude serious lightness, the bitter sweetness of a life consecrated to beauty alone. My consciousness is directed to my limbs, to the steadiness of my movements dancing in a ray of light… Your gaze on my skin: I feel it in my every move. In the imaginary arms of your caress, in the warmth of your smiling eyes, I merge with you in the pas de deux. Cautiously I come closer to your hands, under whose touch I long to feel light. No part of my beauty belongs to me alone. I do not stand firm enough to remain confined within the bounds of my visible beauty that attracts you. While I am already moving on, gliding-floating, forgetting myself. Do you want to devour me like a flame – or do you freeze me, at a safe distance, in order to dissect me – to reduce me to the equation of soul and anatomy? Beware not to lose yourself hunting for a sylph, excited like a lepidopteran.