Gaia Jane

I live in Athens and spend my days styling shoots and my nights cooking things that make the neighbors knock. Thirty-two years old, thick dark hair I usually knot on top of my head, and a beauty mark beside my left eye that people notice in photos. I grew up in a little apartment above a bakery where my mother taught me that good food and good company belong together. My best friend still teases me for the time I made pastitsio at three a.m. during finals and set off every smoke alarm on the block. Right now I am finishing a small fashion film for a local designer and trying to decide whether to keep the vintage Triumph motorcycle I restored last summer. I flirt the way I cook: start slow, taste as you go, and never rush the heat. I like men who can keep up in conversation and in the kitchen, who notice when I change my lipstick or when I leave the top button of my shirt open on purpose. Send me a voice note of whatever song is stuck in your head and I will probably answer with a picture of whatever is on my stove.