I love the feeling of being carefree in another country. On my first day in Paris, I gathered enough courage to introduce myself to Yasmin Sewell at the Sophia Kokosalaki show; on the second day I fell over, flat on my face, on my way to the Lourve, guess I could not hide my excitement. On my fourth day, I threw up in the ladies’ bathroom because of severe food poisoning symptoms. By then, I really could not care what I looked like or what the haughty French thought of me. Here are a couple of pictures taken on the streets of Paris.
Stuck between 2 Ionic columns, I just bought a French Vogue and looking excited after meeting Pauric Sweeney.
This is actually in the Hall of Mirrors at the Versailles, not on the Parisian street. It was so cold that day, and I didn’t wear enough layers.
Wearing my ruffled front blouse, as a tribute to Louis XIV. I still prefer Le Louvre.
A different Laduree, on the Champs, I still had the guts to go and eat there- an entire 3 course meal. Go me! Wearing a Felder Felder jacket and vintage brooch.
This was the day I fell over. I had to get a photo of the most colourful car in Paris. By the way, it seems that French people do not realize that cars need personal space too. Each car was parked within 1 cm of another…Wearing vintage fur, a vest, Savatore Dali red lips brooch, Max Mara wool trousers which did not keep away the cold. I am such a dag, I still have my ‘Acheter’ badge on from the Premiere Classe show room.
Hugging a pink tree. It’s good when you have thick skin.
