In the heart of a slum forgotten by the world,where the houses crowded one into another,and the narrow streets seemed to keep the echo of the footsteps of those who left in search of a better life,Zarinca was born.Her olive skin and fiery brown eyes betrayed her origin,and her determined walk announced that she was not meant to remain trapped between those dusty streets.Even as a child,Zarinca saw the world differently than those around her.She was not content with what life offered her,she did not resign herself to the poverty and unwritten laws of the slum.She grew up in a community where girls were meant to follow their mothers,to be devoted wives and mothers,to knit scarves and accept fate without daring to dream beyond the borders of the neighborhood.But Zarinca was not afraid to dream.Together with her friend,Ilinka,they would sneak through the city squares and admire the elegant dresses in the shop windows.The gypsies in the slum sewed their own clothes,using cheap materials,but their hands had the gift of transforming any patch of fabric into a work of art.Zarinca had learned from a young age to sew,to cut,to combine colors and textures in a unique way.It wasn't long before she realized that she had a gift.But what could a poor girl from the slum do with such a big dream? To create a fashion house? To get to Paris? Zarinca had no money,no contacts,nothing but her talent and an unquenchable desire.So she started learning.She eavesdropped on women speaking French in the markets, memorized every detail of fashion magazines found in the trash,and perfected every stitch.Then,one day,she ran away.A crazy journey to Paris,the city of fashion,the city where she would write her destiny.Years later,the name "Mahala Couture" would resound in the halls of major fashion shows.The woman who had once been just a barefoot child on the dusty streets of Romania had managed to create a revolution.Vibrant fabrics,traditional Roma motifs combined with modern cuts,this was her signature.