Born in Armenia and lost both of my parents when I was 11 to a car accident. My younger brother and I were left without competent parents so we were placed in Orphanage until foster-care was found. We were able to manipulate the system in order to move to France at my age of 13. On the streets for weeks, we were lucky to meet caring woman who raised me like her own. She was a professional talent agent, photographer and artistic director. She insisted on scholastic education first and model studies after hours.
Everything was going so well until my brother's identity was questioned by authorities while at school. He was detained for 15 days. During that time I did not want to trouble my substitute mom so I started modeling socks, shoes, mittens and school backpacks for small agency to raise funds for defense. I did not know that I was putting money in a less savory individuals business while he paid me little.

Off of my work, his business was able to start selling my pictures in foreign countries. That is when my substitute mom discovered this atrocity, recognized the photographer's techniques and approached him head on. She forced him to give up all of my photos and negatives. Then she black eyed him.

Off of this zest and energy, she marched down to local constable and told them they were doing a grave disservice to the world by keeping my brother locked up. She got there just in time for he was being processed to return to Armenia. Momma yanked him from their clutches.

My photos made it to New York. Momma understood that I was of good principles and did not hold a grudge.

Soon became my young woman activities between New York, Milan, Paris and Istanbul.

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