I was prepared for the dogs. Annakim’s house has those canine vibrations after all. Before I am good and well inside the garden door and on the overgrown front lawn, not one but three dogs dash towards me, their legs flailing and tongues flapping, with an exasperated Annakim right on their tails trying to restrain them from toppling me. She assures me they’re friendly dogs. “Hollywood is only a year old and behaves like a crazy teenager. I got her off the street when she was just six weeks. She’s amazing. Sorry if she keeps jumping on you. Just go right on in the house while I take them to the back yard.” I walk up a rickety wooden staircase, push the front door open and step inside. My eyes have to adjust to the darkness. I look around me. I’m astonished, captivated, scared. I am standing inside what appears to me a genuine Spook-o-Rama. The antique furniture is dark and menacing. The walls are painted a matte black. Rubber bats and paper butterflies are dangling from the ceiling and musty chandeliers. Doll heads stare at me from all corners of the living room. Suddenly the floorboards creak behind me. I jerk but only to see Annakim walk in. I’m relieved. “I have been traveling and working so much the past few months I have not been able to maintain the house much,” she procures. “But who knows, you might be coming back in a couple of weeks and this will look like Valentino’s mansion!”

Annakim’s daily vocabulary consists of words like “vampire”, “witch”, “love”, “mother f*cker” and “zombie”. She changed her last name to Violette simply because her favorite color is ultra violet. She tells me she’s 111 years old. And she loves Tinkerbell. Annakim grew up touring the world with musicians. She lived above a music studio since she was born and inherited a natural ear for music. She raps, sings, plays the guitar and oh, “little ponies”. She performed ’96 Tears’ on the piano when she was just six years old. Her band Mircalla Glass will release its first album in October or as she likes to call the work, “a fairytale to retell to someone you love”. She also models – she has flawless skin, intense green eyes and the right height. “I always do cool shit,” she says matter-of-factly. “I have learned a lot about smoke and mirrors and how ideas and the body make emotions that paint clothes. Autumn De Wilde is my favorite photographer to work with. She did a book on Elliot Smith whom I love.” Annakim is en route to New York for fashion week and hopes to score some good runway gigs. Don’t worry, I got her back.

It’s quite a challenge to describe Annakim’s style. It’s magical, ethereal and fantastical with a deep, dark, cutting edge. She calls it “future vampire, best dressed pussy cat in the alley”! She goes through phases, or more precisely, “men and women. If I listened to fashion magazines, I would look like an uptight nazi but I feel like I always pull off my own energy into it so it feels legit.” Her hair style changes in her mind first, then the scissors take over voluntarily and dramatically. Today she’s rocking a jet-black mohawk with blue sparkles. Yesterday she shaved it. And in the future she has a blonde bob. She gets most of her clothes from “friends, designers, vintage stores, etsy, jewish mom yard sales, antique shops and basements.” Her favorite vintage store in Los Angeles is Ragg Mopp in Silverlake, but more than anything she’d love to one day raid the costume houses in Europe. And though she’s proud and aware of the inspirational affect she has on the people around her, she’s a bit sick of not getting rewarded for it. That’s the problem with being a muse, I warn her. “Yes,” she interjects with a laconic stare. “But it’s also the problem with being a serial killer.”