Sometimes

Sometimes I wish I were still five years old. Unfortunately, I've outgrown the plastic sleds that usher these ruddy-cheeked babies down the artificial snow hill outside Hôtel de Ville.

Bored at work

This is what I look at when I'm bored at work


moar humorous pics

My Paris Idol

The other day I was walking down boulevard Montparnasse, on my way to buy stamps at the post office, completely oblivious to my surroundings, when I was suddenly jolted back into the reality of my Parisian life by the most amazing apparition: There she was, an almost microscopically sized little old lady, slightly stooped over, but totally rocking her leopard coat and vermilion patent leather boots. Her cat-eye glasses matched her bag and her thin gray hair was cropped in a stylish cut reminiscent of Jean Seberg (quite fitting because I saw her right at the junction of rue Campagne Premiere, where Jean- Paul Belmondo was shot down in A Bout de souffle). She was the epitome of style, despite being at least ninety years old. I have decided that when I grow up, I will be just like her.

Prince shops here (or at least he did in 1984)

Hmmm, seems like even the fashion capital of the world shouldn't be exempt from occasional raids by the fashion police....

Frogs

The expression "you have to kiss a lot frogs before you find a prince" has newe meaning for me now. A very literal one.

What I want for Christmas: Part 2

I have been looking for the perfect pair of slouchy boots for the past month and a half. I know they exist because I've seen dozens of super stylish looking girls wearing them on the streets, in the subway, but for some reason, I can't find them in the stores. This is what I want: mid calf boots in a honey brown leather, slouchy, with not too high of a heel. So far, I've only been able to find cool, slouchy black boots, but I promised myself I would stop buying black. Almost my enitre wardrobe is black, so much so that I had an entire suitcase full of black when I moved here. It was a literal black hole. I even had a dream the other week (the one where I am recording a demo and sound like Jane Birkin, yes I had that dream again) in which my producer, who looked a lot like Jacques Brel, told me that I wear too much black. Have been extremely self-conscious ever since and hence the desire to inject a bit of color (albeit a very neutral color) into my wardrobe of inky despair.

What I want for Christmas: Part 1

Shopping on rue du Four. Why didn't I write down the name of this store? I want it all...