Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Fancy French fashion day
I dread this day. It is fancy french fashion day. I put it off for nine days, but the girls made me commit. This is the day where T and also Natasha drag me into designer stores where the employees try very hard to make you feel like dirt because they know you can't afford a 2,000 euro article of clothing, and, therefore, by their estimation, you shouldn't even bother them by entering the establishment. I re-thought my best packed option of a chic black dress -- why give anyone the satisfaction of knowing I tried? I swapped my lbd for jeans and brand new, uber comfortable but classy arche shoes.





 As it was, the adorable sight of T & N with their fashion notebooks in tow caused more than one salesperson's frozen fashion heart to melt. At Valentino, the platinum blond sales assistant in her perfectly tailored slacks immediately awarded the girls glossy catalogs and little shopping bags to hold them in.


At Chanel we hit the fashion lottery when a gentleman who was amused by our attention to detail opened the secret Chanel closet -- that's right I said secret Chanel closet -- where the photos of the most recent runway were featured inside the doors. We held our collective breath as the hangers dangled the most amazing haute couture opera coat with jewel encrusted buttons, decadent golden jeans, a sheer floral embroidered lace gown that he admitted was hard to fit, and a dreamy turquoise, floaty chiffon dress that he said suited me. Merci beaucoup, monsieur.  Au revoir!

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