If you play with Kayden Kross, you’re playing with fire. For she combines the exquisite and the hurtful in both her remarkable beauty and her frustrating personality. This uneasy duality defines what she is for others because it is above all what she experiences about herself, her body and her personality. Any contact with Kayden begins with her transcendent and lingering beauty: The knowing Dietrich smile. The pear-shaped face that, set in counterpoise to her pale green eyes, elicits the shade of a Nordic Fornarina and embodies the fantasy of a naked Madonna. The body that is slim and yet softly tactile. Still, the beauty is not forthcoming, not just because there is something cold in its statuesque repose, not just because you find that her eyes do not see the external world but look inward – but ultimately because it conveys the impression of constant recession, of always being a step away. Kayden’s physical beauty is an analogue to her person.
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