Zaynab Koran, nee Shah, having lived in Paris for over a month on her own, provided me with an emotional account of her social life. ‘I’m not sure I made the right decision, D. I love this city and I love French culture, but something’s happened. Have you heard of a Fatherland woman called Naughty Lateef? That’s what she calls herself.’ She was flabbergasted when I described Naughty’s recent adventures in Fatherland. She repeatedly shook her head in disbelief. ‘She’s writing her memoirs, and they’ve started promoting her already. Let me show you the magazine.’ Naughty had made the cover of Feminisme Aujourd’hui, a journal that had not crossed my path before and was largely full of ads for perfume, lingerie and related goods. Naughty, herself an Isloo Hui, was the cover story. Prior to this, I’d had no idea what she looked like, but the image on the cover did not come as a surprise. The modesty implied by the Armani scarf covering her head was immediately negated by her two friends below, proudly jutting forward as if to say, ‘Look, look, we have them in Fatherland too.’ Her looks were typical of Fatherlandi starlets who disgrace an already abysmal cinematic tradition: a fair skin, brown eyes with a tinge of green or blue eyes with a ring of brown, a toothpaste-ad smile, wavy hair, big breasts and a saucy expression.
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