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I Robbed a Billionaire & They Still Worship ME!
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Subtítulos (536 segmentos)
[Music]
Hi, I'm Anna Sorin, aka Anna Delvi. Con
artist, maybe opportunist, definitely
icon, obviously. Anyway, I grew up in a
drab, workingclass Russian town where I
fantasized about a completely different,
much more glamorous existence. I refused
to turn out like my boring, generic
parents. No, I was going to pursue fame
and fortune, no matter the cost. In high
school, I got pretty good at designing
my own clothes. And honestly, people
noticed. Compliments were flying left
and right. But then when I was 16, my
parents decided to move us to Germany. I
thought my new classmates would totally
vibe with my unique style, but nope.
They roasted me for being different.
What? You didn't get enough attention in
Russia? I couldn't even understand what
they were saying. I was still learning
German, but the pointing and snickering
I heard loud and clear. Can you free me
the ketchup, please? Sure. What the
heck? You said free the ketchup. Just
then, I grabbed my harmonica bottle,
taking a sip before casually playing a
tune on the cap's built-in harmonica. I
wasn't even thinking about it, just
something I did. But suddenly, all eyes
were on me. Wait, what was that? What
was what? The bottle. You played it like
a harmonica. Oh, yeah. It's a water
bottle and a harmonica, obviously.
That's insane. I need one. By the next
week, I had ordered a few bottles for
them from Amazon. They added all
grateful for a while. I thought, "Maybe
this is it. Maybe they'll start being
nice to me." Then a few days later, "Zo,
uh, there aren't any left from the vans
you gave us. Can I have yours? It's for
my sister." I hesitated, but handed it
over, thinking, "This has to be a
turning point." Spoiler alert, it
wasn't. They stayed mean. By the way,
grab your harmonica bottle from the link
in the description, guys. I was holding
back tears. No way could I let them see
me cry. They'd tear me apart. So, I
bolted to the bathroom and let it all
out. But as I sat there staring at the
same ugly black loafers peeking out from
the stalls, it hit me. They're the ones
who have it all wrong. Just small town
sheep with zero taste. Me? I had the big
dreams. They didn't hate me. They were
just jealous. When I was 18, I was
accepted into the prestigious Central
St. Martins's Art School in London. But
my first class was boring. The professor
had no charisma, no sense of style, and
his voice sounded like listening to
paint dry. I can't take it. How do you
expect anyone to learn anything when
you're more dull than the subject
matter? Everyone stopped and stared at
me dumbfounded. I didn't belong here
either. Russia was too drab, London too
stuffy. It was time to go to a place
where people weren't afraid to stand out
from the crowd. Berlin. I got an
internship at a PR company where I
learned that everything in this world is
built on image, money, power, and
success. Darling, are you wearing
polyester to a client dinner with a
fashion company? I cannot have your poor
taste reflecting poorly on me. Where do
you shop? I uh I make my own clothes.
Actually, it's cheaper. Interesting.
Very interesting. I could tell my boss
totally lost respect for me after that.
No one takes a poor person seriously.
Gh. I quit the internship before I could
get fired. I was ready to fake it till I
made it. It was time to inhabit the
successful fashionista I would one day
become. I moved to Paris with $20 in my
pocket to pursue an internship with
Purple magazine. My great aunt was the
first woman in our family to wear a tube
top in Russia. She was so
counterculture. Let me bring that love
of the bold to your magazine. You won't
regret it. It worked. I was hired on the
spot, but Paris was expensive for a
20-year-old, and $400 a month wasn't
enough to fake being glamorous. So, I
asked for a job and didn't get it. I
begged my parents for money to help me
finish my internship. But, let's just
say I spent it on trying to make a name
for myself. Dinners at Paris's finest
restaurants, nights out mingling with
the rich and beautiful at the most
exclusive clubs. But soon I ran out of
money. You owe me 2 months rent, Dana. I
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