(2009) 

Went to a party last night. A gloriously crazed one just down the street with wild music spun, drunken germans spinning, inadvertantly cracked skulls, blood, and a rather wanton little thing from Uzbekistan. I had never smoked dope with an Uzbek before. Uzbeks are just like regular people, only drunker and with killer shoes.

If you are the drop dead gorgeous mega-rich machiavellian daughter of the dictator of Uzbekistan nobody will tell you how stupid your shoes are. Especially at the Cannes Film Festival. And It’s also amazing what pops up when you google Uzbek and shoes.