A few days back I flipped through Elle Magazine and got stuck at the Edidtor’s letter singing the praises of Paris and Parisian women. ‘How can you not love Paris and adore Parisian women, which are by far the chicest and coolest and most elegant….’ that pretty much sums up the content. I do not agree. I didn’t really like Paris much at all in the beginning. You might think that I’m an ignorant, unflexible sceptic who has visited Paris once, had a bad experience because her French is really bad (it is) and now stubbornly holds on to this provocative attitude towards the city of love. You’re mistaken. That’s not the point. I will not start bragging about filthy hotel rooms the size of a matchbox, nor about overpriced meals at ‘traditional French’ (super touristy) places, nor will I complain about arrogant waiters who refuse to appreciate my pathetic attemps to order in French. I have accepted all that after so many times I’ve been to Paris. Part of the charme, sort of. It just took me a while to get to like it. I do now. A lot actually. I love the food, the fleamarkets and even the attitude. I like the vintage look of the old French buildings, the tiny cafés and bakeries, the beautiful gardens, the great museums. But up until this day I cannot understand the unreserved worship of French women. I do think there is a typical Parisian woman. And she is beautiful. Striking features, healthy skin, little make-up, beautiful dark hair, styled effortless. That’s what I see when I think of a French woman. But fashionwise, it’s a whole different story. Don’t get me wrong – I like classic style, high-quality materials and tradition. But I do not like conservative and being on the safe side. And that’s what I get in Paris a lot. If something is trend in Paris it’s in EVERY half-decent fashion shop window and EVERY half-fashion-aware person wears it. I’ve never seen as many navy blue caban jackets in my life as when I was in Paris recently. I was lucky I had Dodo by my side wearing her chick yellow fluffy sweater with bright lipstick and white pants. Dodo to me is the enhanced version of a Parisian. Classy, feminine, with an edgy twist. A little more fun, a little more reckless, a little more London than the average French woman. Maybe I am more of a London girl in the end. With an éclair in each hand.

Dodo wears vintage jumper, vintage Strenesse coat, pants by Jesse Kamm, shoes by An hour and a shower, a bag she made herself and sunglasses by Surface to Air.



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