when Sotiris Georgiou asked me to participate in his fashion show, the smartphone couldn’t imprint the terror in my eyes, even though his proposal was followed by all the necessary information, such as that it was all about a bunch of friends who Sotiris would love to see them walking casualy in his clothes. it was tricky. i accepted for Sotiris and for expanding my personal limits, which are very short, taking into consideration that i’m one of those who’re not able to answer not even to the simplest research on the streets that consists of a microphone-camera combination. i said what the hell, at least i’ll have something to tell to my grandchildren (“and this is where granny fell of her platforms on…