Eiffel Tyler

Fashion Friday: The Designer Collaboration

2012-02-10T08:00:00.000-06:00

New York Fashion Week has officially kicked off, which means my round-ups will be starting again soon! For now, though, let's talk about designer collaborations.

This Sunday, while everyone was getting riled up about the Super Bowl, fashion lovers were getting excited about the Jason Wu for Target launch. Just as a reminder, Wu topped my list of collections for Spring, so I was pretty much losing my mind over this line. For those who might live under a rock, for the past several years designers have been collaborating with different retailers on one-off, affordable lines of clothes. Recent collections include Missoni for Target (which crashed Target's website on launch day) and Versace for H&M.

Isaac Mizrahi really paved the way for these lines with his now-defunct collection at Target, but the true pioneer of the one-off collaboration is (who else?) Karl Lagerfeld. Lagerfeld did a line for H&M in 2004, which was a huge success for the Swedish retailer and has since spawned dozens of similar collections. The obvious benefit of these collections is that they bring fashion to the masses - fast fashion in its purest form. But in addition, the retailer gains a lot of press and attention, and the designer reaches a broader audience than normal.

In the past I've bought items from the following collections: a wrap sweater, ballerina sweater and headband from Tara Jarmon for Target; a black kimono dress from Paul and Joe for Target (worn to DEATH, literally, that thing was so flattering); a Luella for Target shirt (RIP Luella, we miss you); two Rodarte for Target party dresses and a pair of tights; a Missoni for Target pair of tights and travel cosmetics bag (I was in desperate need of a new one, since my old one was - full disclosure - pink terrycloth); a bra from Sonia Rykiel for H&M; and I'm sure there are others I don't remember.

So what do I still have from that list? The Missoni travel bag and tights (worn once), the Rodarte tights (hanging on by a thread) and the Sonia Rykiel bra (which I forgot I had until this moment). The Tara Jarmon and Luella stuff wore out poorly, I really did wear that Paul and Joe dress until it was so faded it was no longer acceptable, and the Rodarte dresses were just too short (I wore them each exactly once).

I usually shy away from designer collections like these, because in the past I've been really disappointed by the results. The fact of the matter is, the only way to make a high fashion design $39.99 is to use cheap materials. The trouble with fast fashion collaborations is that it's so easy to get caught up in the hype. These lines, when done right, sell out fast and end up on eBay. They're big names at a tiny price, and the idea you might miss out is awful, which is precisely what these retailers are counting on. The fit is usually very poor and the materials so cheap that what seemed like a great deal at first becomes a terrible deal in the long run. I've skipped out on so many of these lines because even though the lookbook made the models look amazing, once I was in front of the item I had been dreaming about I just felt bummed.

Like I said though, I freak my freak for Jason Wu. I tried not to get my hopes up for the Target collection, convincing myself that it was the same sad polyester mess, different day. Then they released the lookbook, an adorably styled French gamine jumble of sophistication and coquettishness. I decided I would buy one thing. And then it launched online a little early, so one thing became...more than one thing. And then I picked some up at Target the next day while picking up beer for a Super Bowl party, most of it for my best friend Shelby but maybe just one more thing for me.

I have to say, I'm super pleased with the line. The fit, at least for me, is amazing and way above my expectations for Target, and the quality is definitely above par (with some exceptions - I just don't think it's possible to make a good quality designer handbag for under $50, sorry). It's the first designer collaboration collection that has only made me want more.

There were definitely issues with this release - one couple in Miami really managed to piss some people off - and I think that the quadruple-priced-on-eBay era will end soon. But as retailers continue to find success, expect to see more designer lines in a lower price point in the future.

Fashion Friday: Internships

2012-02-03T08:00:00.000-06:00

Classic Overworked Assistant: Andy from Devil Wears Prada

This week, after Fashionista.com announced that a former intern was suing Harper's Bazaar for working without compensation, I knew what I wanted to write about. Internships of all industries, but especially fashion and entertainment, have been the topic of a lot of conversation in the past few years and they are not without their controversies.

You see, the problem is that most internships in these fields are compensated by giving school credit. This works really well for those who really do receive school credit for their work and who are in turn treated fairly. However, there are many schools out there who do not give credit for internships, and the reality of many of those internships is running for coffee and stapling papers, not actually learning valuable job skills. And when you stop to consider that the students who are receiving credit have to pay for those credit hours - well, you kind of have to see how crazy the system really is.

As Fashionista points out, the real problem with these internships is that they heavily favor those who can afford to work for free, which in this economy, is more likely than not those who have parents who can support them. Full disclosure: I myself recently looked into breaking into the fashion industry, and the response to my resume was good, getting responses in a few hours time. "Would you be available to intern immediately?" they would ask, "You have to be eligible for school credit." Once I pointed out that it states on my resume that I have received both my B.A. and my Master's, the emails immediately stopped. That was a huge bummer. I frantically searched for a few weeks for a school that would allow me to enroll so I could qualify for an internship, which would cost me anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand dollars that I don't have. And while my parents, who are lovely and wonderful parents who are incredibly supportive of my goals, make enough money to take care of themselves, they certainly don't make enough to finance a life in New York City for their 25-year-old daughter while she takes work for free (and I'm not certain that if they could, they would, because I'm an adult and responsible for myself).

I am not the only person who would be in this kind of position: paying a living expense in NYC, the one of the most expensive cities in the world; working at minimum two jobs, one of which I would not get paid for; and paying for the privilege of making connections and working for a magazine, which still does not guarantee me a job at the end.

I have taken an unpaid internship in the past during my time as a Master's student, at Women's Wear Daily in Paris. As I have blogged about here in the past, that internship was incredibly rewarding. My supervisor was respectful of my time and my other obligations (nannying and school) and really fostered an environment of learning and growth. Did I have to do mundane stuff? Yes, but even the mundane stuff - like transcribing an interview with Karl Lagerfeld - was exciting and enjoyable because it was an insider access to the things that I loved. But for every story like mine, there is a story of the intern who worked 40+ hours a week, picked up dry cleaning, and was mistreated at every turn.

Personally, I think the worst part of this whole thing is that these internships are widely accepted amongst those in the industry as some kind of hazing ritual. "I did it, so you can do it," says every fashion editor with a shoulder shrug. The attitude is that if you can't suffer through one bad internship for the chance to work in the industry, well, you just don't have what it takes. You're lucky to be working with your team at all/a thousand girls would kill to fill your shoes. And I understand that. But something has to give. The labor laws, as they stand, do not support many of the internships as they exist today. An intern can not be used to replace a paid position. In other words, the internship must be mutually beneficial - the organization gets work done and the intern learns valuable job skills.

I just can't see the harm in compensating interns financially. It might mean having less interns, or using interns more wisely, but I think that it is the right and fair thing to do. I feel it really opens up the talent pool and allows these young girls - many of whom intern every semester they're in school, often at the expense of their education - to breathe a little bit. Perhaps it makes the internship a little less elite but I think it makes the interns as a whole stronger.

It's going to be a really interesting development, that's for sure. I'm curious to see if this gains momentum, like the Law School law suit is doing. This is definitely one to watch, and I'm sure it will send waves through the industry.

PS - I have actually just started working with the Fashionista website as an intern, and I couldn't be more excited! Look out for me over there. :)

Fashion Friday: In Tribute

2012-01-20T08:00:00.000-06:00

The original Man of Style of our family, Ray Musleh, who passed away Tuesday morning, with my brother Hunter.

I love you Poppa. Thanks for always pushing me to swing higher.

Fashion Friday: Haute Couture vs. Ready to Wear

2012-01-13T08:30:00.000-06:00

From Chanel Couture Fall 2009 (via)

I was going to write this last week, when I was home sick and really crabby, but I spent most of the day in bed so unfortunately it had to wait. But I didn't forget!

It seems today that everyone wants to slap their name and the word "Couture" on something and sell it as such (serious side eye to you, Real Housewives!). As such, the understanding of "haute couture" has become a bit foggy. I wanted to devote a blog post to this matter and help clear up some of the confusion.

To truly be considered "haute couture" involves jumping a series of hurdles. In fact, it's so difficult and so expensive that there are currently only 11 official members of the Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture on the schedule for the upcoming shows. To be a member of this Chambre is the only way you can call what you do couture, and you must meet the following qualifications: present two shows a year consisting of at least 35 looks for both day and evening, have an atelier (workshop) in Paris which employs at least 15 people full-time, and design made-to-order for customers which consists of at least one personal fitting.

On top of those high standards, the couture client list has drastically declined in the past 50 years, which means it has become unprofitable. When you consider that the price of a couture garment is rarely every anything less that $20,000 (running around $200,000 for a suit - I am not joking) the client list is very small. Chanel, perhaps the best known couture house, has claimed around 150 regular couture clients. One hundred and fifty people in the world purchase Chanel couture. And where does that money go? Luxe, rich fabrics, loads and loads of man hours (a gown can be 400 + hours of labor!), personal fittings and customization. This garment didn't get put through a machine - we are talking tiny hands carefully sewing and embroidering. This is a gown tailor made for you, and you can be sure you will be the only woman in the room - perhaps the world - with that specific garment. Haute couture is one of the Ultimate Luxuries. It is like buying a piece of art in terms of investment, because depending on the designer, the value can actually increase over time.

Couture gowns (most of the time) are the ones you see preening down the red carpet. However, not all red carpet gowns are couture. When an actress is listed as wearing Atelier Versace, for example, that means that the technique of the gown met the standards of couture (hence the Atelier designation) but that the company itself is not a couture house. The French take this appellation very seriously in the same way that the only sparkling wine that can be called "champagne" must come from that region in France.

So why bother putting the time and effort into a couture fashion show? Remember, we're talking thousands of man hours for 7 minutes of a fashion show with next to no return. Simply put, these gowns are the Show Stoppers. They will end up splashed across the pages of magazines for months, even years in some cases, on the bodies of best-dressed celebrities from award shows and red carpets. Editorial after editorial will showcase that one suit. These gowns will be archived for exhibitions. It is the best form of advertisement for these prestigious companies. When Sue Smith sees that gorgeous Dior Couture gown on Nicole Kidman, she won't be able to buy the gown, but she will be able to buy Dior perfumes or maybe handbags.

What about the stuff you can buy in stores? When you walk into a Chanel boutique and purchase that classic Chanel tweed jacket (and good for you!), you've just bought something off the rack. The designation for these garments is Prêt - à - Porter, or Ready to Wear. 99% of the fashion shows and editorials that you see feature RTW garments. Ready to wear does not mean that it is cheap; in fact, many houses that sell RTW have very high price points. Nor does it mean that the garments are cheaply made; Alexander McQueen by all accounts used couture techniques and made beautiful things worthy of the designation. However, for one reason or another, they are not Haute Couture houses.

IMPORTANT! Some houses, like Chanel and Dior, do both haute couture and prêt-à-porter. Therefore, it is possible to have Chanel couture, but not all Chanel is couture.

All this being said, that Louis Vuitton bag you bought is not couture. And your velour tracksuit is definitely not couture. Unless you personally flew to Paris and were hosted in a beautiful salon while experienced seamstresses fit that velour to your body and charged you 50 grand so you could have the privilege of traipsing around looking like Paris Hilton circa 2002, no ma'am, that is not couture. And it is not 2002, so maybe reconsider the tracksuit.

There are a lot of beautiful, well made, expensive things that are not couture, and I am not trying to demean those things in any way. I just want the people of the world to be knowledgeable so that when I talk to you about it I won't pull my hair out! (Joking, joking - I love my hair, I would never really pull it out.)

On Old Loves and New Perspectives

2012-01-07T13:30:00.000-06:00

The other day, in a fit of nostaliga, I went back and read the online journal of someone from a past life: Vingt.

Vingt was a name he assigned himself, or some alter ego, after I broke up with him. The relationship in my mind seems so terribly important now, as if we were some star that shined too brightly and burned out too quickly. We met when I was 16 and he was 17 and everything just seemed so important, which is maybe why I remember it as being some great affair. Of course, based off the timeline of his blog (as I erased mine in a fit of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), the whole thing from start to finish lasted a little over a month. I knew it hadn't lasted long but for some reason I was surprised at how brief it all really was.

In an era before Facebook, kids communicated via AIM or long phone calls, and forget Facebook stalking. We'd met at a mutual friend's birthday dinner and hit it off over something silly, like Rocko's Modern Life or my Spongebob Squarepants car seat covers (which, until this evening I had also conveniently forgotten). It took a little research on our parts to reconnect after that night, but we did, and quickly we were spending hours talking to each other.

Vingt and I had really similar senses of humor and were into much of the same things, and he had the sensitive and witty personality that I had always wanted to find in a guy. Soon we were falling asleep on the phone with each other and I was breaking curfew to spend just a few extra minutes with him. We went to a local concert together where he danced and I laughed, and to this day I'm convinced the most romantic thing I've ever done for someone was re-enacting a line from one of his favorite songs. It all seems sort of embarrassing to talk about but the haze of adolescence makes everything feel so heightened and exciting. The "warm-fuzzies" and the butterflies and the seeming eternity before that first kiss, the hours-long conversations about life and college and how he didn't think he believed in love - I remember it all with the dreamy lens of a Sofia Coppola film.

And then suddenly it came to a crashing halt. Well, more like I slammed on the brakes. The reasons why remain unknown to me. There was the Homecoming incident: he lived far away, so that when he took me to my Homecoming dance, my mom allowed him to stay on the pull-out bed intended for my then step-brother. Only he ended up falling asleep in my room watching a movie. (Which, to reiterate to my doubting mother, was a complete accident and no, nothing funny happened, we just changed rooms because a certain younger brother insisted on using the computer in the den. And also, sorry to my dad who has possibly never heard this story.) My mom found out and her disappointment was one of the worst I'd experienced, and the guilt ate me alive for days. I think I must have partially associated that guilt with Vingt, but we had also grown incredibly close in that month long period, and considering my patterns of behavior in every relationship after, I had real fears of emotional intimacy. Everything felt really perfect and amazing - and so, I had to stop it.

I broke up with him the only way a scared 16-year-old girl with no real life experience knows how: e-mail. And then I blocked his screenname and tried a number of times to ignore his pleading phone calls. When I finally did talk to him, he was upset and looking for answers, of which I had none, and I tried to convince him that I was just a really terrible person and that he should probably just hate me and move on. I couldn't talk to him after that. I wondered why I ever screwed something so good up by dating him, because really, we would have made great friends and now I couldn't handle even that.

So in the grand scheme of things, my relationship with Vingt was a drop in the bucket. I've obviously since had longer and more meaningful relationships but for some reason, that is the one I remember the fondest. Probably because we only dated long enough to have memories of warm-fuzzies and butterflies and not fighting or dramatics that come later in relationships. It's interesting that in one of his posts after the breakup, he wrote, "In five or ten years none of this will matter to you; maybe it won't matter to me either." Obviously I can't speak for him, but for me, it does still matter. Not in the way that it did then, but in the way that this relationship encapsulated everything about being a teenager for me.

Everyone has moments in their lives that they can look back at with the benefit of time and perspective and see that there was more than one path available to take. That year was full of paths for me to take and they could have all taken me completely different places than where I ended up. It goes without saying that it is impossible to know. Our lives are a series of chain reactions that, once set in motion, are literally impossible to change. I think that where I ended up, ultimately, is a good place, though there were definitely some rocky steps along the way. So, even though I do regret hurting him at the time, maybe in the end it was better that it ended when it did.

It's fun, in a way, to look back at those times because even though everything felt so complicated and high-stakes, it was also thrilling and awkward and wonderful. It sort of epitomizes all the great things about being young and having no idea what you're doing or how to handle things but trying anyway. It's also good to read over the post-breakup blogs: he was a master at writing in puzzles and metaphors that, at the time, I didn't understand. Having now experienced something similar, I understand, and it breaks my heart. It hurts to have evidence of that time you hurt someone - but welcome to the 21st century, I guess.

Mainly though, I'm just a nostalgic person by nature. And nostalgia is a silly thing.

Fashion Friday: Why?

2011-12-01T21:06:00.001-06:00

Hello my darlings!

I'm sorry to have been away since early November. The whole reason I started doing Fashion Fridays was to force myself to post regularly, but I found myself uninspired and distracted.

That being said, I realized I've made many posts about fashion without explaining why I made the sudden change in gears. After all, this had been a blog about Paris. Obviously, I haven't been in Paris for a long time now (and in fact, this will be the first year I haven't spent any time in Paris since 2006!), and I could only talk about missing Paris for so long. I think it's pretty obvious that I love talking about fashion but we haven't talked about why, and I think that's important. Alors, allons-y!

When I was about 5 years old, my favorite outfit consisted of a printed pink dress over black leggings with zebras all over them. Or maybe the dress had the zebras - either way, it clashed horribly. But my mom always understood the importance of self-expression, even for very young children who perhaps have no idea what leggings best match an electric pink shirt dress. I remember thumbing through my Grandmother's Allures every time I went to visit and wishing I was grown up enough to look like those women. When I went back-to-school shopping for 6th grade, my mom cautioned that I might want to wait to see what everyone else was wearing. I had just discovered Clueless and wanted to be Cher Horowitz so badly that I threw caution to the wind and only bought tartan skirts paired with sweater vests and knee highs (and let's not touch my "hippie reincarnation" phase of the same year). To this day, I can remember every first day of school outfit from my high school years.

All this to say that there is nothing more fascinating or crucial to fashion than the art of self-expression. What you choose to put on your body articulates so much about you. It tells the world who you think you are or who you would like people to think you are - your aspirations, your goals, your own views of yourself. Even the absence of "fashion" gives all that away. You can tell in an instant who wants desperately to be noticed and who could want nothing less. Before you've even opened your mouth, you've offered up a window into your mind. The art of getting dressed has been important for literally centuries, being both sociologically and historically important.

And, within the past 5 years or so, I've truly begun to understand what an art form fashion is. When you delve deeper to discover that Chanel goes beyond that quilted bag, when you read about Karl Lagerfeld or Yves Saint Laurent and see their work up close in museums, when you watch the défilés by Alexander McQueen, I think it becomes impossible to deny the work that goes into making those pieces special and unique. McQueen deserved to be exhibited at the Met because what he did went so far beyond the ordinary, so beyond something churned out by a corporation and sold at malls across America. The best fashion designers come up with an entire story, an inspiration, a thread that ties each collection together, and season after season they produce not only breathtakingly beautiful and detailed pieces, but also masterpieces that have something to say. Miuccia Prada is one of fashion's best and brightest examples of a designer who can create sell-out pieces but who is also incredibly cerebral and intelligent in her design.

Look, we aren't talking about curing cancer here, and I understand that. But in this world that can be so dark and scary, isn't it wonderful to have a distraction, to have these brilliant people holding up light to something beautiful, no matter how temporary? When you look past the business of selling perfume and handbags and finally see that one gown that just takes your breath away - isn't that worth something?

The bottom line is we are all attracted to something in life that touches us in ways we can't explain. For me, that's fashion. At the end of the day, I can't articulate why the beauty and detail of a McQueen gown brings tears to my eyes or why a Marc Jacobs show can literally knock the wind out of me, and I can see why that might seem silly, but to me those moments are the refuge in the storm. That there are people out there who can not only dream up such beautiful things but make them real is astounding to me.

It's important to be reminded that there is still beauty in this world. Whether you see that beauty in a shoe or in a souffle, in a canvas or in a chorus, it's what keeps us happy and believing that anything is possible. As Chris Martin of Coldplay once sang, "We live in a beautiful world, yea we do, yea we do." I hope that my posts about the things that I'm passionate about remind you what you're passionate about and what a wonderful thing this fragile life can be.

Fashion Friday: Giving you the Boot

2011-11-04T08:00:00.000-05:00

I don't know where you live, but where I am, fall is definitely upon us (and bless you people in the northeast who have already begun to deal with snow!). I love fall fashion, which means snuggling up in your favorite sweaters and donning a pair of really cute boots.

But ladies: let's talk about those boots.

I am notoriously picky about boots - just ask my mom, who has endured many a veto on boots during our shopping trips (sorry, mom!) I myself only own two pairs - Frye Veronica boots and a pair of Zara booties. Boots are not easy to get right. When not done correctly, you can look cheap, tacky, or (yikes) slutty. So I've put together a list of dealbreakers that, for me at least, are essential for finding a perfect pair.

1. What are the boots made of? This is even more important if the boots cost under $200 - $150. I'm not trying to be snobby here, it is just legitimately difficult to get a good pair of boots for less than that. Think about it - it's way more material. Cheap material will reveal itself in a glance because there's so much more of it. And cheap material can even start cracking and flaking, which is not a good look. Take the time to really examine the material and see how it moves. And beware cheap suede - it might look good in the store, but one wrong move while you're wearing them and suddenly they look awful. Shell out for the better quality - not worth it for summer sandals, definitely worth it for winter boots.

I bet these make weird crinkly sounds when you walk. (Payless)

2. Please, with little to no exception, NO SQUARE TOES. Seriously. God help you if you buy a pair of square toed boots. Those are for a European dude wearing a nice pair of Diesel Gold jeans. They are. Not. Okay. There are NO EXCEPTIONS - friends don't let friends wear ugly shoes. If you have a pair of these lingering from the 90s, when the Square Toe was masquerading as cool, please get rid of them.

Not okay. Never okay. (Payless)

3. This is what I call the Stripper/Hooker Test. Put the boots on. Do they remind you of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman (and I'm talking pre-Richard Gere)? Please take the boots off. No seriously. Take them off, now. And I don't even care if they're designer; chances are really good that unless you're a fashion editor, you're going to look like a Real Housewife.

Stella McCartney, I love you, but not even in faux leather is this okay. (Net-a-Porter)

4. So far, you've passed all the tests. Now take the Pirate Test. Do they make you look like a pirate? Okay. Are you into that? Alright. Well, Halloween is over, so just hold tight until next year. A hint of pirate is okay. Beware the fold-over, though.


Pirate Hippy Chic, per Belle Sigerson Morrison. (Net-a-Porter)

5. Pointy toes are okay. Sometimes. Rarely. Most acceptable in bootie form. Take care to be sure they're sophisticated.

You can't go wrong with Oscar de la Renta. (Net-a-Porter)

If you aren't careful, you could end up looking like a witch or a wench or some other costume-y lady term.


The buckles keep you secure on your broomstick. (Pucci, Net-a-Porter)

What are some good standbys for a chic boot? Well, as you can gather, you will never, ever go wrong with a round toe. And picking a stacked heel over a stiletto will keep things on the classy side.

Yves Saint Laurent - and the detail is perfection. (Net-a-Porter)

A flat boot in a chic color will work well for casual weekends.

I would sell a liver for these Chloé boots. (Net-a-Porter)

Tread carefully (no pun intended) with platforms - done wrong, they veer into stripper territory. When done right, though, they can be really stylish.

Louboutins - a no brainer. (Net-a-Porter)

Some of the most brilliant boots have a hidden wedge, for you flat-phobes.

Chloé - simple, with a killer heel detail that sets them apart. (Net-a-Porter)

The rest, really, is up to you and your personal style. Are you fashion forward? Preppy? Avant-garde? Girly? There is definitely a boot out there that will suit you and that you can love year after year.

Just don't let me catch you in a square toe.

DIY weekend Part II

2011-10-26T18:22:00.002-05:00

After trying to replicate my favorite pair of Tom Binns earrings this weekend, I was in the DIY spirit. I made the boyfriend go with me to Home Depot and pick out spray paint to spruce up some frames that desperately needed it. (He was, obviously, thrilled to stand by as I waffled between two different cans of white spray paint, debating which would be better.) Remember my inspiration board? It really needed a good coat of paint. I was torn between glossy white or glossy black; I briefly considered neon but found it too bold - I didn't want it to distract from the photos.

My best friend Shelby and her adorable momma gave me a print of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's (one of my favorite films!) when I went to visit her in Boston, and I didn't really love the gilded frame I had found to put it in, so I decided while I was at it, I might as well change that up.

Well, first of all, I don't care what any DIY blog tells you, spray painting is not an easy task, especially when you live in an apartment. I started to do it on my front porch with a plastic bag laid out, but then I became paranoid that the paint was hitting the cars in the parking lot, so I moved to a patch of grass where people walk their dogs (and apparently, don't pick up after them). Then the breeze would pick up, so I had to nix the plastic bag, meaning I was getting paint all over the grass, which I felt horribly guilty about. Then I was getting paint on myself and it was just a big mess. I don't think it was bad for a first try but there was definitely a technique to it that I didn't pick up on until about halfway through.

I picked a glossy white. I thought it would look really nice. Here's how the gold frame turned out:

I kind of wish I had gone with black. I think it would have looked nice with the color of her dress and the colors in the print, and the background is actually a cream color which kind of drives me insane now that I put a white frame against it. I was pretty proud of myself and ready to settle for the white when I showed my boyfriend, who deemed it "college-y." As in, something you would see in a dorm room. Okay, not exactly the sleek and sophisticated feel I was shooting for.

As for the inspiration board, it was also time to switch seasons:

The simple lines of the board itself probably also look like something a college freshman would put up. I can't decide. I am really feeling my new collage though! Fall is my favorite season.

So, my second DIY effort of the weekend also ends with a shoulder shrug. It's an improvement over what was there, but like I said, I now wonder if glossy black wasn't the way to go.

What do you guys think? Leave as is or change it again?

Fashion Friday: Tom Binns DIY

2011-10-21T21:40:00.000-05:00

I'm a big fan of Tom Binns jewelry - it's really fun and eclectic. I especially like the neon pieces in traditional shapes. It feels a little bit subversive and would elevate a classic outfit to a trendier plane.


Photo via NetaPorter.com

Of course, like almost anything else beloved by the fashion set, Tom Binns will set you back a pretty penny, so sadly, it just isn't in my budget right now.

The other day, I was wearing a pair of earrings I really liked: gumball sized posts that used to be a very deep and subtle magenta color. When I took the earrings off, however, I noticed that the color was scratching off. Annoying, but not too upsetting considering I think I paid $0.99 for the pair. I went to throw them out, and then I paused. I scratched off the rest of the paint to see if they were salvageable, but the paint had left behind a faint stain that I didn't like. Naturally, I had just been trolling Net-a-Porter.com (one of my favorite fantasy shopping websites) and had seen the above Tom Binns earrings. The light bulb went off - what if I could paint these earrings a different color? I figured I could probably do it with some nail polish and no one would be any wiser. And if I decided that it was a failure, I could just throw them away as I had originally thought to do.

Here's what they looked like after I scratched off the paint:

Yea, I stuck them in bread. I wanted them to stay upright and it was the best thing I could find. What of it?

Truthfully, I wanted to paint them that neon green color. I thought they would be amazing. After dinner tonight, I dragged the boyfriend to Target to look at nail polish. There was a lot of hemming and hawing before I decided I was too pained to buy even a $2 bottle of neon green nail polish that I would never use again (weirdly, I find neon green too much for my fingers, but I'll wear anything else in the color).

I came home and found a bottle of pink polish, Essie One of a Kind, that I thought would do pretty well. I painted on three layers, and here is the finished product:

Did I achieve the desired effect? I'm not sure. They are a little bit brighter in person than they are in the photo. I lost the edges of the facets, though, which make them look like really bright balls from far away. For no cost and no loss, I'm pretty happy with them, but I definitely don't think I'll fool anybody into thinking these are Tom Binns.

Thoughts?

Quickie: Louis Vuitton Beauty

2011-10-17T12:27:00.000-05:00

These are the most beautiful shoes of all time. Seriously. From the moment I spotted them on the Louis Vuitton F/W 2010-2011 runway, I fell. Hard. I have never, ever forgotten these shoes. I have cutouts of them in my inspiration binder. I even bought a print of these shoes on Etsy. I love them in every form they came in, from those gorgeous velvet and crystal numbers, to the leather pumps, and the satin and ostrich lovelies, and in every heel height, even though frankly the tallest are the best. It is safe to say that these are my favorite shoes of all time. I don't think I have ever obsessed like this over a shoe.

Louis Vuitton Beauty pumps. Does it get any better than this?

No my friends, it does not.

Which is why, every once in a while, I troll eBay for these heels. And today I found them. Espresso brown leather, pink bow, in my size, 8 1/2, which any girl with that size knows is near impossible to find. And I died a little inside because my friends, I am on fiscal lockdown.

So for now, I will find a frame for my print and dream of the day that I find another pair of these beautiful, beautiful shoes that I can put on my feetsies.

Quickie: Shoe Obsessed since 1998

2011-10-16T16:51:00.001-05:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I have found proof that I have been shoe obsessed for a very long time: a scrapbook in a pile of things my mom gave me. This scrapbook was something I put together for gifted class.

The assignment read, "You are a shoe in a shoe box waiting to be bought. Describe the person that will buy you." Well, when shoes are involved, why limit yourself to words when you can include pictures? I did just that in this winner (it earned me a sticker that reads, "Your creativity is showing! Good work!"

Please take the time to read the description of the type of person who would buy me: I'm a platform shoe, meant for the disco. Named Madonna. There's a gay man inside me just begging to come out. Complete with MS Paint drawing.

"Gwenny looks cool in cousin Joe." She sure does. And apparently Rosanna Arquette is wearing a boy pair of shoes.

I apparently imagined myself as being the girlfriend of a shoe worn by Adam Sandler. At least something has changed.

My mother was a super chic pair of black strappy sandals. (I hope you were flattered, mom!)

Really liked the black strappy heel (it was 1998, after all).

Apparently, Sister Cindy was a stripper shoe...

Fashion Friday: Paris Fashion Week, Spring 2012

2011-10-07T15:25:00.000-05:00

Well, Paris Fashion Week has come and gone and, as suspected, it did not disappoint. While Milan has officially thrown down the fashion week gauntlet, I can't help but note that they aren't trying to overlap with PFW at all. I mean, who can blame them? Besides having the good fortune of simply being in Paris, I think there's very little question that Paris still holds the throne in terms of being the capital of fashion. (Sorry NYC!) It's the birthplace of fashion and the only home to true haute couture. There are so many outstanding houses and designers in Paris, it's hard to even pick a favorite. But I did, just for you. Well, and for my imaginary closet.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

5. Elie Saab: Elie Saab, especially the couture line, is a red carpet favorite and it isn't hard to see why. The clothes are consistently feminine, glamorous, sexy without trying too hard, with the right attention to detail that really catches the camera's eye. Clothes for the working woman these are not. Saab is a designer who knows his place in the scheme of things, so he isn't exactly trying to design work trousers or avant garde shoes. There's no shock value here, just really pretty - if not reliable - dresses. Even the bold colors are soft and wearable. There is something to be said for reliability and consistency, though, and Saab's gowns are always a safe bet for that special occasion.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

4. Dries van Noten: Dries definitely has a very loyal fan base. The Dries woman is really cool and sophisticated, with a little bit of an edge - so, not really what I'm normally drawn to for myself. This collection was really beautiful and well-executed, as they always are, and I found myself wanting to be a Dries woman. The color palate, mostly black and white with accents of rich shades of blue and pink, also featured some really awesome prints - like the cityscape on this coat. The detailing was beautiful and unexpected, like a peplum on a pair of pants or rich embroidery on a simple black dress. Just impeccably cool.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

3. Valentino: Valentino is just a no-brainer. Every collection they've shown lately has been a home run for me. The styling, from beauty to accessories, is always impressive. The look at Valentino is best described as ethereal. And there are few things I love more than ethereal looks. If I could figure out how to do that braided hair, you can bet I'd do it everyday (and if I could afford it, I'd be rocking that hair with a Valentino gown everyday too.) The beaded sandals kept the dresses from being too precious, though again, everyday wear these are not (unless you live a pretty glamorous lifestyle, in which case I am jealous of you).

And now, drumroll please! The very first TIE for first place here on Eiffel Tyler! It's very exciting, I know. And is it really any surprise that it has come down to Marc Jacobs at Louis Vuitton and Karl Lagerfeld at Chanel? It's like asking me to pick a favorite child. I can't do it, so don't even ask.

Photo via GaranceDore.fr

1. Louis Vuitton: Three words for you: mother effing carousel. Oh, and three more: Kate effing Moss. Yes, the supermodel who rarely walks in shows anymore not only closed the Spring 2012 presentation, but she herself asked to walk in it. It's good stuff people! When the curtain dropped to reveal an all white, completely functional carousel packed with models wearing Vuitton, this show shot to the top of the list. The clothes could have been hideous, and I would have loved this collection based on presentation alone. What can I say, I'm a sucker for showmanship. Luckily, the clothes were really pretty as well. I loved the slightly disheveled hair accented with tiaras or headbands. The color palette felt sweet with soft pastels. The fringed dresses and floral cutouts were tempered perfectly by crocodile coats and pointed toe mules. And of course, it's Louis Vuitton, so the bags were amazing. There was speculation that this collection was a sort of audition for the Dior job, and if that was the case, count me convinced. Beautiful from start to finish, strong attention to details, and an affinity for presentation - it would be the much needed shot in the arm at Dior after a disappointingly safe presentation. Either way, a flawless showing for spring proves why Jacobs will be at the top of the game no matter where he's at. (If the carousel looks familiar, that's because it is - Chanel did something similar for Fall/Winter 2008-2009. The execution was different though.)

Photo via Chanel.com

1. Chanel: And on the 8th day, God created Chanel. Just kidding (sort of). Lagerfeld was inspired by the sea - not to be mistaken with mermaids, which he called too "commonplace," but actual sea creatures. The set was all white, with seashells, sea weed, and sea creatures set onto white sand. It was breathtaking even in photos, so I can't imagine what it must have looked like in person. The beauty inspiration followed, with the models sporting fresh, dewy faces, wet hair pulled back and accented with pearls, and pearls glued down the line of the back or sparingly on faces like piercings. Lagerfeld frequently refers to the "codes of Chanel" like the tweed suits, pearls, camellias; things that are always associated with Coco Chanel. He took these codes and played with them so that a pearl necklace became a belt, and the tweed suits became lovely dresses or soft jackets. The sea theme was carried out in conch shell purses or a heel shaped like coral reef. I'm seriously enamored with this pair of sunglasses accented with a line of pearls. And just when I thought I was going to pass out from the beauty of it all, a seashell opened up to reveal a personal favorite, Florence Welch of Florence + The Machine who performed her latest single, the haunting and appropriate "What the Water Gave Me." When everything falls into place as it did at the Chanel spring 2012 show, you get a Fashion Moment. I watched the video on the Chanel website - it was seriously magical. Karl Lagerfeld is truly one of a kind in his dedication to the craft in a way that just doesn't really exist anymore. The truth is, it costs an astronomical amount of money to put on a show of this caliber and in this economy, there are few willing to risk it. But for Lagerfeld, there is no other choice. This definitely ranks as one of my favorite fashion shows of all time.

I couldn't ask to end my notes on the spring shows on a better note than Chanel, so that's what I'm going to do! I hope you've all enjoyed it, because I definitely have! For more details on my favorite looks, be sure to check out my Tumblr. And if you want to help me procure those pieces, feel free to send money. ;)

Fashion Friday: Milan Fashion Week, Spring 2012

2011-09-30T08:00:00.000-05:00

I'm going to be honest with you guys: I'm not really big on Milan Fashion Week. There's just something about Italian designers that, while I appreciate at a craftsmanship level, is just rarely ever my personal taste. It can end up either too over-the-top. If I had to rank the cities, it would be Paris, New York, and then a tie for London and Milan; they both have their benefits but I find that I'm enamored with a lot less than I am in the other two cities. But obviously there are some serious heavy hitters in Milan and so, I still really enjoy it, especially the showmanship. You're guaranteed a spectacle in Milan.

Let's hop to it, shall we? Here are my favorite 5 shows from Milan Fashion Week:

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

5. Versace: Versace is absolutely one of those brands that I probably would never ever wear in real life. It's always special, but subtle it is not. This year there were a lot of the same tight silhouettes and platform shoes as there usually are, but done in a mermaid theme. The colors were light and pretty and the sea theme gave the whole collection a softer feel. Sure, the platforms were lucite. But hey, baby steps. (Like those you'd probably have to take in said platforms.)

Photo via Style.com

4. Aquilano.Rimondi: Before this week, I'd never heard of this brand. A few photos starting cropping up around Tumblr and I just had to know more about it. I was really impressed by their spring show - there was an amazing structural element that was strong without sacrificing femininity, thanks to the color scheme. Columns and scrolls became pretty accents, either on prints or belts. I really think this is one to watch.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

3. Prada: Let me give you the heads up now: these pieces will be on the bodies of every editor and the pages of every magazine next spring. It will probably even make covers. And for good reason. Miuccia Prada nails it every season with her cerebral yet fun collections. This year's car theme, done by any other designer, would probably feel a little ridiculous. Instead, it feels sophisticated and playful. The heels with flames shooting out of the back are poised to be the shoe of the season.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

2. Dolce & Gabbana: The earrings had bowtie pasta and garlic hanging off of them! The prints were eggplants and tomatoes! The finale featured models in bejeweled body suits! Sophia Loren was the beauty inspiration! This was Italia at it's best (and okay, maybe a little stereotypical). The execution was amazing and stopped just short of "too much." The lady-like silhouettes really helped. The velvet pumps paired with the bodysuits were perfection. And I want those earrings.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

1. Fendi: Should it really be surprising that my favorite collection was designed by Karl Lagerfeld, known for his work at Chanel? (Which, incidentally, is funny because he's been at Fendi for over 40 years, nearly twice as long his career at Chanel.) His inspiration was a 102-year-old Italian neurologist who won the Nobel Prize - not an obvious fashion inspiration. But these were clothes for the intelligent career woman. The focus was on chic day wear for the woman who wants you to think she can't be bothered. The perforated leather shoes and bags accented the collection wonderfully.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Salvatore Ferragamo's bright and sexy colors. Giorgio Armani's Japanese twist. Roberto Cavalli's structural wedges.

TRENDS: Two words: Scarf dressing. If that sends a shiver down your spine because you're imagining that terrible fashion of the late 90's/early 00s - I don't blame you. And I can't promise you that you won't regret it this time around too. But there it was: D&G and Pucci were two major shows that featured the risky clothes. This isn't going to translate well into knock-off clothing (read: it's going to look CHEAP), so buyer beware if this crops up at H&M. If you're looking for simpler but impeccably constructed things, check out Jil Sander and Marni. But the best trend to emerge from Milan is Jazz Age dressing, just in time for the Baz Luhrmann version of The Great Gatsby. Already seen in New York, this hit the runways at Etro and more importantly, at Gucci. Food prints - like those at Moschino Cheap and Chic and Dolce & Gabbana - are quirky and let people know you don't take yourself too seriously.

IF YOU'VE GOT IT, FLAUNT IT: You must have a flat stomach to rock this trend, but if you have abs of steel, do it! Bandeau tops paired with high waisted skirts aren't appropriate for most workplaces, but they made appearances on several runways, including Versace, Prada, and Blumarine.

Home stretch! Paris is next week - so excited!

Fashion Friday: London Fashion Week, Spring 2012

2011-09-23T21:02:00.000-05:00

London Fashion Week, clocking in at just 5 days, is the shortest of the season. Book-ended by New York and Milan, it's also perhaps the least respected. There are many editors who end up skipping parts or all of LFW and then fly to Europe for Milan and Paris. Some of Britain's most high profile designers and brands - namely, Alexander McQueen and Stella McCartney - opt to show at Paris Fashion Week. But this week, it appears push has finally come to shove. Marc Jacobs, arguably the most important show of NYFW, moved his show to late Thursday evening this year to make up for time lost to Hurricane Irene. This made it difficult for the fashion set to make it to London in time for Friday's shows. But what really ruffled feathers was the decision by Gucci's designer Frida Giannini to pre-cast her show, which meant that models had to be in Milan as early as Saturday. Agencies pulled their models from shows and at least two had to be completely re-cast at the last minute. The result is that many agencies are threatening to boycott and the thread holding London Fashion Week together could unravel completely.

I'd really hate to see that happen, as London hosts some of the best and brightest up-and-comers in the industry, thanks in large part to the legendary Central Saint Martins. It certainly seems to be the quirkiest of fashion weeks, where independent designers on smaller budgets cut their creative teeth. So for those of us watching from our sofas, let's focus on the drama that made the runway, yes? Once again, I've picked my personal top 5 favorites.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

5. Burberry: Christopher Bailey has done a wonderful job taking an historic British company and elevating it to brand status, launching a makeup line within the last year. Season after season he nails luxury that is also fashion-forward and this season's arts-and-crafts collection is no exception. I loved the muted colors that seemed so fresh after the neons of NYFW. And rather than promoting the trench, the Burberry garment, this collection seriously featured the parka, so you'll want to pay attention and find one for spring.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

4. Matthew Williamson: Normally, I associate Williamson with these crazy bright paisley chiffon maxi dress numbers that, frankly, aren't me. I guess I haven't been paying much attention since then or Williamson is trying to diversify, because I was really pleasantly surprised by this spring's offering. There was still that boho spirit, but the brights were turned down a bit and the overall feel of the collection was sophisticated but still appropriate for the party girl Williamson is known for.

Photo via Elle.com

3. Erdem: I. Love. Erdem. Anytime I see a beautifully structured floral somewhere, it's Erdem. Even Kate Middleton has been snapped wearing a gorgeous Erdem, and you know that's a big deal. This Spring, the Erdem lady felt snatched out of some mid-century French garden and sexed up a little. It was pretty and proper but a little bit subversive. Definitely a bit quieter and more demure than normal, but I bet you'll see at least one dress on La Wintour this coming spring. And I'm a sucker for those little hats and gloves!

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

2. Jonathan Saunders: You know, every season I see photos from Saunders' runway show, and I love all of it, and then I feel like I never see it again. It isn't really over-the-top editorial appropriate. It's a shame really because it's beautifully made clothing that is wearable - which is hard to get from a male designer sometimes. This collection was also sweet with a little sexy mixed in - Style.com nailed it with their "Betty Draper unleashed" metaphor. Wear it to meet the boyfriend's parents for dinner and then play footsie all night.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

1. Giles: When the show opened up with a model in an all white suit and a giant feathered white swan headdress, I knew it was going to be good. The primary color palette was silver, white, red, and black, with a swan print that only got better as the show went on. There were enough feathers to make a theme but not so many that it felt gimmicky. The white swan was followed mid-show by a black, and the show ended with a magnificent red swan and red-feathered gown that was as menacing as it was elegant. It was a great mix of wearable and dramatic - all around brilliant.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Jaeger London's hats. Peter Pilotto's shoes. Nicole Farhi's structured sorbets. Mulberry's adorable dog walkers! Issa's pretty day dresses just waiting to be worn by Kate Middleton. Temperley London's Old Hollywood inspired silks.

TRENDS: If neon was the color trend of NYFW, pastels and sorbets ruled London. (Yes, I hear Miranda Priestly in my head now - "Pastels? For spring? Groundbreaking.") Make sure they're a little bit sexy and sheer à la Erdem or Jonathan Saunders, or punched up with silver, like at Christopher Kane. Yellow - in all shades - has cemented itself as the color to beat. Platform espadrilles, a spring staple, finally made appearances at Jonathan Saunders and Temperley London; luckily, Gap had already shown some at their spring presentation in New York, so it will be easy to replicate the look on the cheap.

BIGGEST LETDOWN: Topshop Unique. First of all, Topshop is beloved by the fashion crowd and has collaborated with the likes of Kate Moss on collections that have sold out in a matter of hours - that's a high standard, especially for a high street brand. Secondly, if you mention the inimitable Elizabeth Taylor as an inspiration, you don't send such weird, tacky, cheap looking clothes down the runway. But, in a moment of sheer inspiration, Vice magazine sent one of their journalists to this show while tripping on acid - and yes, it's as funny as it sounds.

Well, that's it for London! The big guns are already out in Milan (Prada was getting crazy buzz just minutes after the show ended) and as always, I wait with great anticipation for Paris!

Fashion Friday: New York Fashion Week, Spring 2012

2011-09-16T20:56:00.001-05:00

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

The Spring 2012 fashion season has officially begun with the events surrounding Fashion's Night Out on September 8th that kicked off New York fashion week. I've been posting my favorite looks all week long on my Tumblr and finally posted the last looks from Marc Jacobs, the closing show that took place yesterday evening. The fashion pack has descended upon London and now that the dust has settled in NYC I thought I'd share my top 5 favorite shows with all of you! I picked these shows based on how wearable I found the collections for myself - not how avant garde or well constructed they were, or how ubiquitous I think they will be next season. Think of it as a wish list if I had unlimited funds.

Photo via Elle.com

5. ADAM: This collection wasn't originally going to make the top 5, but the more I saw it, the more I loved it. The mix of feminine pieces with the more structured work wear and the light and airy prints mixed with black and charcoal really endeared me to the line. They are well constructed without being trendy and have a fit that would translate on different body types. This isn't one that will make a big splash in the magazines come spring but I think it will sell well, and sometimes you need those pieces just as much as the dramatic ones.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

4. Diane von Furstenberg:What can I say that hasn't already been said? Diane is an icon in the industry and is well known for her easy and chic pieces. Her collection felt airy and light, a no-brainer for spring, and there were some sparkly shoes mixed in that I died over. The styling and the hair indicated a country-club lady to me, but I think a 50 year old could wear the pieces just as easily as a 20 year old.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

3. Oscar de la Renta: Oscar is another industry icon. His shows can sometimes feel a little staid to me but this season he definitely skewed younger. The accessories - particularly a pair of clear booties with pink trim, paired with neon socks - felt fun and gave a little wink to the more formal ladies-who-lunch clothes. It brought in a much needed fresh vibe without alienating Oscar's core customer. (I have my eye on the citrine green wedges - so amazing!)

Photo via Elle.com

2. Christian Siriano: Many of you may recognize Siriano as a winner of Project Runway - indeed, he's probably their most successful alum. The challenge is turning this success into credibility. The biggest criticism of Siriano is that he is seemingly incapable of reining in the drama; this has existed since his Runway days. I think this is an excusable fault for a 25 year old designer, and I thought his spring collection was fun and, for the most part, wearable.

Photo via FashionGoneRogue.com

1. Jason Wu: I adore Wu. He really knows his customer - Upper East Side with a twist - and he knows what she wants to wear for every occasion. Wu's woman is the kind of woman I dream about being. She's polished but fun - this season, Wu mixed his florals with a subversive yet subtle print by artist KAWS. Evening dresses made from gazar came in neon-bright colors. The Jason Wu customer is undoubtedly elegant but she doesn't want to look straight-laced, and he always delivers.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Jenni Kayne's minimalist chic. Rebecca Taylor's shoes. Jill Stuart's floaty pastels. DKNY's fresh faces. Peter Som's zebra print dress. Sophie Theallet's neon gowns. Rodarte's ambitious (if not a little short of the mark) Van Gogh - inspired collection.

EMERGING SPRING TRENDS: You are going to want round sunglasses. Trust me. Platform loafers in fun colors or patent leather, as seen at Peter Som, or as wedges like Marc by Marc Jacobs, are a fun way to ground floatier looks. Super saturated neons are the way to go, especially in citrus colors, but pastels and sorbets in collections by Ralph Lauren and Phillip Lim will be a nice respite from the blinding brights. Looks in all white or all black showed up on loads of runways, but punch them up with bright accessories - it's the best way to get into the neon trend if you're unable to commit to the full look. Your florals should either be exotic, à la Altuzarra, or digitized as seen at Prabal Gurung. Of course, safari or tribal prints are always a spring standby - you can find these at Donna Karan or Michael Kors. If it's seen at Alexander Wang, you can be sure it's going to show up everywhere, which is why you'll want to find sport-inspired fabrics and cuts - even Vera Wang got in on the action. Bonus points to the fashion darlings at Proenza Schouler, who presented something so different from the other runways, you can be sure major fashion figures will be wearing their wood printed wedges and eelskin skirts at the next fashion week.

STILL HANGING AROUND: Congratulations if you bought into the flatform trend this past spring, because they popped up on a few runways - like Tory Burch - so you can still get a bit of mileage out of those. Unexpected leather is always a good way to toughen up spring looks. Silver is the metallic of the season for shoes, and closed toes are showing up pointed again, so if you bought those Alexander Wang Anais pumps that have shown up on many an editor's feet this week, they'll carry through spring.

BEST LEFT FOR MODELS: Two major hair trends - brightly colored Lego-helmet hair, like that at Thakoon, and slicked-back semi-mullets, like at Victoria Beckham - are not going to translate to real life. And those knee-high gladiator sandals, seen at shows like Hervé Leger, make for a good statement on the runway but make for enormous looking calves on normal women. Skip it, or risk looking like Britney Spears circa her S&M moment at the 2002 MTV VMAs.

This is no means meant to be an exhaustive list (but man, do I feel exhausted!). I caught up on as many fashion shows as I could find online, but New York is notorious for the sheer amount of shows (300 + !) squished into a one week period. Obviously, I hardly consider myself an authority on fashion but this is something I really enjoy following and I am hoping come spring my predictions will be dead-on! Either way, I have fun poring over the hundreds of looks and culling together my favorites.

Phew! And just think - London, Milan, and my favorite, Paris, are still to come!

September 11, 2001

2011-09-11T15:27:00.000-05:00

I was 15. I had Ms. Jernigan for English after my homeroom. I remember feeling vaguely annoyed, because her cell phone kept ringing, and we weren't allowed to keep ours on. She spoke in hushed tones, and finally uttered an "Oh my god." Quickly, she rushed to turn her TV on. I can't remember now if she even warned us what was happening. I feel like the second plane hit right after we tuned in, but I can't be sure now that my memory hasn't been affected by coverage since then. Silently, we all watched as the two towers burned. We began to talk about it. I was fixated on the TV and suddenly, the first tower collapsed. Silence fell again. Horrified, we watched the second tower collapse. News was still coming in fast and in clips. No one was really sure what was happening, only that America was under attack. The rest of the school, in different stages, must have found out what was happening because when the period changed over, everyone moved along in a stunned silence. I vaguely remember worrying about being in Ocala, so close to Disney, because I figured Disney made a pretty good target. We didn't know when the attacks would end or where they were aimed.

I don't remember much about that day. A lot of my memories come in clips. Like the rest of America, there are certain images that are forever burned in my brain: the second plane hitting, the horrifying sight of people willingly jumping from windows 90 stories up, the billows of smoke, enormous buildings collapsing like houses of cards, those clouds of debris that seemed to swallow the island of Manhattan, shocked people covered in thick white dust, wandering through the streets like zombies. I didn't have any family in New York, and didn't lose anyone in the attacks, but still felt a real sense of fear.

It was the first time in my life that I realized how scary the world can be.

July 7th, 2005, around 8:30 AM, I landed in London, England. As the plane landed, I remember feeling exhilarated. It was the first time I'd ever been abroad. I was due to start a study abroad program in Cambridge a few days later. I looked out the window and saw trains crossing the landscape and cars driving on the opposite side of the road. Tiny houses were lined up in the suburbs, and I remember thinking that they looked like those on Privet Drive. We sat on the plane for a long time after we taxied, I remember, but I hadn't traveled by plane in a while and so nothing seemed abnormal to me. Finally, they made an announcement that the tube would not be available to take into the city, as they were experiencing some "technical issues." Those technical issues, as we made our way through the airport, had turned into "electrical fires."

The line for a taxi was abnormally long. The mood was light, if not a little irritated. When we finally got into a taxi, the driver told us what was really happening: London was under it's own terrorist attack. My mom, who had accompanied me, took my hand as the taxi driver turned up the radio. We listened through the long taxi ride. He seemed reluctant to take us to our hotel; as it would turn out, the attacks were all around the area our hotel was located. It was still so early stateside that it seemed silly to call anyone, and phone lines were still tied up, so we took a nap. When we woke up, I already had 13 emails and several voicemails. The rest of our time in London was marked by the sadness and mourning of a city, and of a country, that lost many lives that day.

I guess it seems silly that the first time I felt a real connection to 9/11 was abroad, but that day I was able to really understand the fear and the terrible pall that falls over a country after something like this happens. You can't believe it. I knew that had our plane landed maybe as little as 30 minutes earlier, I could have been on one of those tube lines. My first thought, after hearing they were terrorist attacks, was about September 11th. It was my first real experience with terrorism. To this day, when I visit London, I get terribly tense and anxious if I have to ride the tube. For most Americans, today is not about that attack in England, and it may seem almost disrespectful of me to talk about that day today. For me, though, September 11th and July 7th are forever entangled in my mind. July 7th was the other half September 11th for me and my experience.

Today, on the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I spent time watching one of the many specials about that day that up until now I had more or less avoided. It's like reliving a terrible nightmare. Today, at 25, the feelings that I have watching the events unfold again are different, much more deep and complex than those I had at 15. The incredible acts of heroism - you wonder, as an adult, would I be capable of doing something like that? If I were in a crisis, how would I react? I am able to comprehend the sheer abject terror that those people must have felt that day. My stomach sinks thinking about the loss, I cry watching the buildings collapse again, knowing now how many people were inside. It's like watching a movie you know the ending to, but somehow knowing the ending makes watching everything unfold that much harder.

Now I understand how dangerous the world can be. Now I understand why you don't go to bed angry and why you always, always tell someone how much you love them. The people who went to work that day, who boarded planes, those people could never have known what was going to happen to them that day. And neither can we. You can take every precaution in the world, and tragedy can still happen. A plane can crash. A tornado can rip through your city. Our lives are so short and so incredibly precious.

The lesson that I choose to take away from 9/11 is not that the world is to be feared, but that life is intended to be filled with love.

Fashion Friday: The Inspiration Board

2011-09-09T09:00:00.000-05:00

Fashion week in NYC has officially kicked off, September issues have arrived in the mail, and there's already a chill in the air, even though it's sure not to last long. It's the most wonderful time of the year! As someone who has always loved fall, the sense of starting over, a new school year, putting together lists and shopping for new supplies, I adore this time of year when everything begins to change. The September Issue is one of my favorite movies, and they definitely get it right when they say that September is the fashion community's New Year.

One of my favorite activities is reading a fashion magazine cover to cover. By my current count, I'm subscribed to 8 - Vogue, Teen Vogue, Elle, Harper's Bazaar, Lucky, InStyle, Marie Claire, and Glamour. I also like to pick up Allure from time to time, and the occasional French Vogue when the cover strikes me and I can afford to - $17 for a magazine is a bit steep! I keep a stack of the unread ones by the coffee table, and when I finish them, I move them to a basket near my bed.

Now, if you figure that each of those magazines puts out 10 issues a year (many combine December/January and June/July, but many also put out special issues so it averages out) that adds up quickly to at least 80 magazines a year. I can assure you my basket is not that big. So what is my solution?

This may strike some as blasphemy but I do not keep every single issue of every magazine. I don't have the space for it! I used to keep certain publications but I grew tired of moving them everywhere and I didn't care for the cluttered look of it. Instead, when the basket gets filled - usually after 2 months worth - I go through each issue again, pulling spreads that I love and cutting out photos that inspire me. It's the perfect activity for a lazy Sunday afternoon, and honestly, one of my favorite activities. I find it strangely soothing. The only ones who get saved from the chopping block are the French Vogues - those are special enough to keep, I think! The rest get sent to the recycling bin.

Those cutouts and spreads get put into these binders, where I keep them in clear protective sheets. They used to all fit into the big white one at the bottom but I've recently expanded so quickly that I needed two more! I have them sorted by Ads (blue), Full Spreads (layouts I liked so much I saved every page - pink), and random pulls (white). I keep cutouts in the pockets.

I love this photo - a cardboard cutout of Karl Lagerfeld, so chic and fun!

I really love these folders. I update them by going through them and taking things out that I no longer love or that no longer suit my sense of fashion. I love pruning them and then filling them with new things and seeing how my taste evolves over the years. Also, I think they make it a lot easier to find inspiration at once instead of combing through dozens of old issues of fashion magazines.

But my favorite thing to do with these folders is put together inspiration boards. Years ago, in college, when I decided I wanted to stop dressing like a 16 year old, I bought a big bulletin board and a box of clear pushpins and began to put together my first inspiration board. It definitely drew an eyebrow raise from my dad when he visited. ("Why do you have pictures of a bunch of women on your wall?" - which was funny because I had Panic at the Disco and Fall Out Boy posters on the wall as well - needless to say those have not lasted as long as my inspiration board.) My boyfriend tolerates it, but he doesn't really get it either. But I love my ritual at the beginning of each season of sitting down with my folders and carefully editing them down to a few select images that represent how I want to dress or live that particular season.

Inspiration board from summer - haven't yet updated for fall!

I put the board where I can see it when I'm getting dressed. It helps to keep me inspired and I can see on a board the cohesive trends that I'm into so that when I go shopping, I don't get sucked into something I won't wear. For summer, I was feeling breezy dresses, all white ensembles, neons, and overall feminine vibes. Did I stick to it? Well, I was also on a serious shopping hiatus, so not exactly. But it doesn't hurt to have the board there to keep me away from just a jeans and t-shirt kind of day! One day I'm hoping to have a big walk-in closet where I can put my inspiration board on full display with some fun framed fashion prints and an enormous shoe rack. (I can dream!)

My board itself is a little boring - I've always thought about spray painting it a glossy black or white, jazzing it up a bit, but I've just never gotten around to it. Still, I love looking at the collage of my favorite photos! The best part is that you change it as you grow tired of it - mine is due for a fall update as soon as I can finish my September issues.

And, bonus tip, a couple of years ago I started finding tons of fashion spreads and photos online that I couldn't access here - things like Vogue Russia or Numéro Tokyo. So I opened my Tumblr to use as a sort of digital inspiration board. I can post videos, photos, gifs, text, whatever, and it naturally layers itself. I keep on top of my tags so I can look back and see what I posted under, say, Chanel. It definitely makes a great extension of my inspiration folders and board.

Anyway, I got the idea from designers and stylists who also keep inspiration boards. I really think they're great for making your ideas cohesive and concrete. You can put anything you want up there, tearouts from magazines, fabric samples, pictures of wild animals - whatever inspires you. And you can change the content to fit what it is that you love - maybe photography or baking. It really is an amazing tool and when done right it really adds personality to your home. Definitely try putting one together, either physically or digitally!

What's In My Bag?

2011-09-08T19:46:00.001-05:00

Hello mes filles and boys! I already skipped a Fashion Friday! C'est incroyable, non? I'm sorry. To make up for it, I wanted to do a fun "What's in my bag?" post that a lot of beauty and fashion bloggers do. Most recently, I saw it on Laura's blog, Buy Now, Blog Later (I am dying over her new Miu Miu bag, by the way!). Anyway, I really enjoy seeing what is in other ladies' bags. It seems voyeuristic, but I think that you can tell a lot about a woman by what she carries around, plus I find the differences between my contents and that of others to be fascinating!

So, let's hop to it then!

First, the bag: It's a Louis Vuitton Speedy 30. One of my best purchases! Blogged about here. I have worn it just about every single day since I've bought it, which is why it is starting to look so worn, which I adore.

The two lumpy shapes in the middle, brown and green, those are reusable bags that I bought at Monoprix when I lived in Paris. I often picked up groceries on the way home from class, and so I grew accustomed to always having reusable bags on me so I didn't have to worry about running home to get one or wasting plastic ones (which was always a surefire way to get glared at by the cashier!). I have a third in red floating somewhere around the apartment. I'll be honest, I like using them because it makes me feel cool to pull out my French grocery bags.

The coral bag on the left is a makeup bag I bought at Gap this past Christmas, because the one I had been using was too small and I liked the punch of color inside my purse.

I almost always carry two pairs of sunglasses with me, the black Chanel pair I bought myself before leaving Paris for when I want to be more chic, and the tortoise Ray Ban New Wayfarers for when I want to feel cool. I use the Ray Bans way more often because frankly I'm terrified of ruining my Chanel ones!

Blackberry, obviously. I really desperately want an iPhone but I'm under contract with T Mobile for another year.

I always keep a hair tie handy in the inside pocket. For a long time I wore one on my wrist but after a while I found that it looked sort of young, and so into the purse it went. The yellow tube is Burt's Bees, which I used to adore but now I don't think it does a very good job keeping my lips moisturized so I'm trying to use it up.

The bronze wallet is Athé Vanessa Bruno. A mom that I knew in Paris passed me an invite for a Vente Privée (private sale) at Vanessa Bruno, an amazingly cool French designer, and while there were many things that tempted me, I only bought the wallet because I was nervous to spend too much money. At the time I was carrying around this mustard yellow Aldo wallet that had gotten rather dingy, and I could no longer remove my ID which was annoying, so I could justify the new wallet. I adore this wallet (and to this day dream about the shoes I passed up! Lesson learned.)

I carry around my iPod in this cheap $3 case because I hook it up in my car. Radio stations in Alabama don't play much Serge Gainsbourg.

I always carry my digital camera with me (which, for obvious reasons, didn't make the photo) and you can see the ugly-but-necessary case at the bottom. You never know when you'll pass something you want to take a photo of, find inspiration, or maybe even run into a celebrity, and I don't like the quality of cameras on phones, so even though it adds bulk, it's a must-have for me.

My keys, obviously, are in there. I have yet to find the perfect sophisticated keychain, so I keep the ugly gym pass on there even though my gym was destroyed in the tornado.

Finally, I carry around a Moleskin date planner and 3 pens (in the ugly pink case I bought in a bookshop in Cambridge, England). I color code everything - hence the three pens in blue, green, and red (and yes, I know I'm OCD) and I use it to keep track of everything - work, appointments, grocery lists, people to call, wine I've tasted and enjoyed, books I want to read. I really love having it with me.

Now, what's in the makeup bag? It has two sides, so here's the first side:

Bayer, for headaches and pains; a nail file, nail buffer, cuticle pusher and trimmer, and nail clippers, because I have horrible nails that peel and I get ragged cuticles, so this keeps me from biting at them; bandaids and Neosporin because you never know when you'll need them; Tide to Go pen, lifesaver; disposable floss that you get when you visit the dentist; lint roller; and hand cream that someone gifted me aggeeesss ago. Not pictured for obvious reasons: lady products.

Second side: bundle of hair ties, because I always seem to lose mine; oil absorbing sheets; hand sanitizer; regular lotion, again part of a gift I got a long time ago; tiny hand mirror; travel sized Viktor and Rolf Flowerbomb perfume (love!), because you don't know when you might need it; tinted Minted Rose lip balm, which has essentially melted itself shut but I refuse to throw it away; two hair clips, in black and brown; cheap eyeliner, which made it easy to transform my look if I felt under-dressed in Paris; a lip brush; Nars lipstick in Rouge d'Enfer, for the same reason as the eyeliner; and a sample of Benefit lipstick in Lady's Choice, a nude color, for when I need to look pulled together quickly.

Phew! So that's what is in my bag! I feel kind of like a girl scout - prepared for anything! I'm pretty proud to admit that there is almost never a stray receipt or gum wrapper wandering around in there - if you can't tell, I'm pretty neurotic about having things organized.

Any opinions on what my bag says about me? Have you posted a "What's in my bag?" I'd love to hear from you!

Fashion Friday: The House that Dior Built

2011-08-26T18:54:00.000-05:00

This week, news broke that Marc Jacobs was in serious talks to be the next designer at Dior.

For those who haven't been following the saga, former iconic designer John Galliano was ousted from Dior after several people came forward accusing him of, among other things, antisemitism. This was a big deal as Galliano was greatly respected by people in the industry for being a creative genius.

So all anyone has been asking since February is, who is in at Dior? I think it should go without saying that Dior is one of the biggest heavy-hitters in fashion and the brand is pervasive. Dior has managed to be at the front of the market in bags, sunglasses, perfumes, makeup, and clothing, and it is one of the few houses left who actually produces couture. I would say that perhaps only Chanel is a bigger brand. (That Chanel is the world's biggest fashion brand goes without saying, I think.)

Right now, Marc Jacobs designs for his own lines, Marc Jacobs and Marc by Marc Jacobs (a lower priced diffusion line), and Louis Vuitton. To oversimplify things, Bernard Arnault, CEO of the LVMH group (and wealthiest man in France) owns both Louis Vuitton and Dior, as well as Marc's brands. Jacobs is the prized horse of the stable, so to speak. He is a master of beautifully made clothing that women want to wear and has been able to revive the Louis Vuitton brand with his many artist collaborations.

The major contender in this race, at least for many fashion insiders, was Riccardo Tisci, head designer at Givenchy. Galliano himself was moved up to Dior after a very short stint at Givenchy.

For me, however, Marc Jacobs would be a perfect fit at Dior. The Dior brand is very much about a feminine fantasy. Everything about Dior is wonderfully girly, a little more "in your face" than a brand like, say, Chanel, a little flashier and less restrained but still absolutely elegant. Jacobs has shown, especially at Louis Vuitton, that he is more than capable of producing a fantasy collection. There are few things more exciting than thinking about what Marc could do with a couture line, as couture is absolutely about creating a story and being over the top.

Many would have liked to see a smaller designer step into the house but the fact of the matter is, there are few houses as storied as Dior. Besides Galliano, two other big names were Mr. Christian Dior himself and his young protege, Yves Saint Laurent. Dior is very much a Big Designer brand. It takes a lot of experience to really handle the Dior vision and customer without taking it into a tacky or comical direction, and I think Marc Jacobs possesses this finesse.

The rumors state that when Jacobs takes over at Dior, Céline designer (and fashion darling) Phoebe Philo will take over at Louis Vuitton. Really, I like this idea. I think that designers should be allowed to flourish creatively and make mistakes with their own brands and struggle to find what works as they jump from brand to brand to find what fits. What works for the Chanel customer does not always work for the Gucci customer, and it is very important to protect the integrity of these big fashion houses, most especially for the precious few that still produce haute couture. I don't think a young designer would necessarily be ready not only for the creative task but also the incredible pressure.

I really love fashion, I do. I appreciate the craft and the art that goes into every fashion show, not only by the designer but by their ateliers. So it would really thrill me to see someone as talented and capable as Marc Jacobs be put in a house where his creativity could really go unconstrained. This is one rumor I would be happy to have come true!

Fashion Friday: Chanel Peridot

2011-08-19T23:39:00.006-05:00

So my wonderfully fashionable friend Jamie does something that she calls "Wardrobe Wednesdays" over at her blog, where she puts together an outfit based on a destination or an event. I really liked the idea, and I wanted something that would ensure I would blog with more regularity, so I decided I would copy her idea. ;) Except instead of putting together an outfit, I thought I would cast a broader net with Fashion Fridays, where I can discuss something fashion-related that is on my mind that week. This means that any dudes who may read my blog may want to skip out on Fridays - or not, if you're into that kind of thing. (I won't tell your bros!)

Photo courtesy of Café Makeup

For my inaugural Fashion Friday, I figure there is no better place to start than Chanel.

I don't consider myself a trendy person. (Although, I was recently told that the reason Alabamians think I'm from the north is because I dress so trendy - I'll take that!) I follow trends but I generally find myself falling into a pretty classic category in terms of dressing. Blair Waldorf is my number one style idol and she isn't even a real person. This is especially true when talking about make up. Going crazy for a night out means slapping on a red lip or maybe a light smudge of eye shadow. And in terms of nail polish, it was only about two years ago that I spent more than $3 on a bottle of polish because I thought, "How much better can expensive polish be?"

All this to say that I have skipped out on many a Chanel nail polish because spending $25 on what I deemed a trendy "so-not-me" color was just a stupid and outrageous idea. I passed on colors like Paradoxal and Jade even as they appeared on the fingers of fashionable people and sold on Ebay for more than $100 a bottle because I figured I would just never wear them.

Which is why when Péridot came out, I cast an interested eye on the color but wrote it off as another skipable polish. Even as it appeared in magazine after magazine, I thought, "Well, that's very pretty but just not me." Yet I had a hard time putting it fully aside. A Chanel nail polish in my birthstone was an appealing idea. And so finally, while visiting my boyfriend in Atlanta, I stopped at a Chanel counter in Nordstrom and slapped some on my thumb.

I could not stop staring at my thumb. All day, I would shift the color around in the sunlight, marveling at how beautiful and complex the color was. Seriously, photos do not do this color justice. In certain light it is a flashy green, another a bronzed gold, and in the sunlight it looks like the back of a beetle. So I asked for it for my birthday because frankly I still couldn't justify spending so much on nail polish.

Photo courtesy of Café Makeup

When my brother gifted it to me, I immediately painted my nails with it and again was just absolutely in love with the color. Even better, the application was an absolute dream. It takes a lot of work for me to paint my nails and not have it look like I let a blindfolded 5 year old finger paint them. The Chanel polish had just the right consistency, neither too thick nor too watery, so it just glided over the nail leaving a perfect layer of color. It only chipped after I spent a day at work opening boxes (I have had major issues in the past with nail polish peeling off after just one day). I cannot rave about this polish enough. In fact, since then, I used the rest of my birthday money to buy more Chanel polish and it nearly pains me to say that, yes, there is a big difference between $3 and $25 nail polish. The depth of the color and the ease of application alone are worth the big bucks. And when you consider that a manicure runs about that, you could still save yourself money in the long run doing them at home.

Full disclosure: this polish is unquestionably serious Man repellant. My dad gave my fingers a once over with a look that was pretty befuddled. My boyfriend described it as a nail polish that "looks like it belongs on a DMV worker." (I have no idea what that even meant.) Of course, I put up with football season so he puts up with my sartorial choices. Compromises, people. It's how a relationship works.

Since my birthday, I have worn it 4 different times. It's a fun thing to have with my sometimes plain wardrobe and I really think that the cost per wear is going to work out well when all is said and done. It's part of the limited edition Fall 2011 collection, so it won't be available forever. And I do like feeling, in the middle of Alabama, connected to my trendy brethren. It's the little things, really.

So that was our first Fashion Friday! I hope that you enjoyed it because there will be more to follow (and not posted technically on a Saturday ;) ).

(A very very special "Thank you!" to Café Makeup, who not only kindly allowed me to post her photos here, but also has helped steer me in the right direction with some of her makeup suggestions! If you have not checked out her blog, you absolutely should! Thanks Amy!)

Rant: "People get all the government they deserve."

2011-08-09T19:45:00.001-05:00

I have become so irritated by politics lately that I can't seem to stop myself from talking about it. The quote in the title is from my friend Shane, though I know it's a common saying. The fact of the matter is America is in such a sorry state of complete ignorance that I felt compelled to write this blogpost.

My generation, it feels like, is pathetic when it comes to politics. Here's a hint: if you are more concerned about how the Gators are going to perform this season or what happens next week on True Blood than you are with the state of our nation, you're allowing someone else to run your life. If you don't wake up and read the headlines and feel just a little bit concerned, you aren't paying enough attention.

I feel like we are a group of overgrown petulant children. We want instant satisfaction and when we don't get it, we give up. Youth voters showed up in record numbers for the 2008 election. Where were we in 2010? (I will admit my part in this - I did not change my registration in time and forgot to request an absentee ballot - which precisely proves my point.) We are still allowing our parents to make decisions for us. We constantly complain about our situation - and statistics show that the job market for our age group shows no signs of improvement in the immediate future - but that's all we do. Complain.

The recent riots in London and in Greece are examples of dissatisfied citizens showing their discontent. While living in Paris, I saw high school students - high school - barricading up their own school with anything they could find, complete with homemade signs of protest of the latest Sarkozy move. I can never picture American high schoolers doing the same thing. I'd be willing to bet they could rattle off the names of all the Teen Moms or Jersey Shore cast members but couldn't name as many presidents.

What is our society teaching us? That GTL is more important than the debt crisis? In this day and age how much effort can it really take for us to be informed? Nearly everyone has internet or a smart phone. And if you are letting some media pundit, whether it's Rachel Maddow or Bill O Reilly, tell you what you think, you're doing it wrong. If the only exposure you're getting to what is going on in the world is via Sunday morning service or The Daily Show, do your own research. Stop letting other people control your life. Get informed.

I am legitimately interested to hear why people of my age group seem so disinterested in what is happening in the world today. I'd love to hear what you have to say about it!

Nearing the Quarter life crisis

2011-06-27T19:07:00.004-05:00

Sometimes I worry that I will never be happy.

Don't misunderstand, it's not that I'm never happy. It's just that I always have the nagging feeling that I could be happier.

Happier:
If I had more money/less debt
If I weren't where I am currently
If I were thinner
If I were prettier
If I had more/did less
If I had this dress/that lipstick/those shoes
If I did more yoga/ran faster
If I had a better job
etc, etc, etc

I think the obvious problem is that the society in which I was raised has programmed me to be a constant consumer. Sure, your phone is cool but it isn't an iPhone! That's a cute bag, but where's the logo? Your car is how old? There's something newer, something faster, something sexier.

And let's not even touch the issues of being a woman. Be sexy but not slutty. Be skinny but have curves. Hang with the guys but don't lose your femininity. Be smart but not intimidating. Be balanced. Be perfect.

So I live in a state of constant flux, feeling like everything could be better if I just. Prime example: I spent much of my year in Paris wishing I were closer with my boyfriend. I wanted a ring. I wanted to plan a wedding and have people ooh and ahh over me. Now that I'm here, I just want to be in Paris. Everything is tainted by the idea of what is missing.

I've often posited that there are certain people who just don't want to be happy. Lately, I worry that I am one of those people. I'd like to think that if my circumstances changed, I would change. If I found the right job. If I lived in the right city. I have to hope that I'm not one of those people who just likes to be unhappy.

Is this a normal feeling for people my age?

Then again, what is normal?

Tornado

2011-05-04T20:59:00.007-05:00

Well, I don't want to be trite, but it seems like this is something worth documenting.

It has been exactly one week since the storms hit the south, including Tuscaloosa, Alabama where I live. It honestly feels like it's been significantly longer. It's funny how time passes so quickly sometimes, and so slowly others. This has definitely been one of the latter experiences.

We left work early that day because of all the storm warnings. I came home and began putting together my emergency plan. I ended up being very, very close to the tornado. So close that I saw it over the trees in the neighboring complex through my living room window. It is not an experience that I care to duplicate. My boyfriend and I huddled together under a feather mattress (finally, I can rationalize my spoiled bed habits!) in the bathtub, holding each other as best we could considering how awkwardly placed we were. Seconds after hunkering down, the power went out, and things got real. We could hear our neighbors in their bathtubs, the low dull noise of the tornado passing by, we could feel the pressure change and the building shudder slightly. After what felt like forever, we dared to venture outside.

Our apartment complex had some downed trees, lost some siding and roofing, and had debris fallout from the tornado. Some cars were damaged; fortunately, mine was not. It was like something from a zombie movie - people slowly, cautiously poked their heads out of their apartments, taking careful first steps out into the street, the crowd becoming bigger and bigger as we gawked at what we thought was the damage. Sirens immediately erupted all over town; they didn't stop all night. Some girls across the street were going out to a big intersection nearby. We found friends that lived in the complex, opened up a beer, and went home, grateful that we had only suffered minimal damage. I called my parents to let them know what had happened, and that I was okay. Though I didn't know it, the storm became national news within the hour.

The girls who had ventured out returned a few hours later, their cameras and phones filled with photos. Literally a mile up the road from us was a thriving commercial area: a shopping complex, the mall, several fast food places and restaurants. The photos they took were unrecognizable. It was all gone. There was rubble, piles of timber, overturned cars. Where a Japanese restaurant had been was simply an empty parking lot. Again, we counted ourselves as lucky. We assumed the tornado simply hadn't touched down yet when it passed by us. Some friends of ours had power, so we took our groceries to their house so they wouldn't spoil, came home, and fell asleep in the dark, figuring our power would be back the next day.

The next morning, I tried to go to work. Military police guarded every intersection. Power was out over most of town. They were checking IDs. I said I was trying to get to work - the guard told me "there isn't anything to go to." I returned home, nervous. We decided to go out to see what was going on. Not even a block behind us, it was a war zone. Nothing in my neighborhood was recognizable. Trees were in houses, in the street. Power lines zig zagged sidewalks, driveways, roads. The endless sound of sirens and helicopters dominated the landscape. The further we walked, the worse it got. People sitting in a pile of their belongings in the front yard. The lives of strangers exposed, their closets, bedrooms, bathrooms opened up like a dollhouse by the storm. There were spray painted X's on every house with numbers that I didn't understand, and that I didn't particularly want to. Cars buried under trees and earth, literally ripped up from the roots.

We walked and walked and walked. I felt nauseous and overwhelmed. We ran into people that we knew, thankfully unharmed, and offered to help. They had already salvaged whatever was left, and the rest was for the crews of chainsaws and cranes.

The next day, I was finally able to get to work. The walls were still standing, but barely. The front facade had crumbled into the parking lot. Glass had blown both in and out. The I beams that had held the roof up were bent down into a U shape at face level. A garage door, once at the back of the building, now lay crumpled in front of my desk at the front of the store. My desk was under a pile of insulation, ceiling tiles, and light fixtures. And we fared significantly better than the rest of the neighborhood.

Just a few steps up the street, there is nothing as far as the eye can see. You can't tell where a building begins and the next one ends. It is all piles of rubble. One pile with candy, soda, and cigarettes used to be a convenience store; another, with textbooks, coloring pencils and small clothing items blowing in the wind, a home. The elementary school just up the street is gone. One apartment complex is missing any sign that it ever had a second floor.

The president drove by in his motorcade. Standing there, on the side of the road, clutching a bag of stuff rescued from the piles, hearing the cries of the people - "We need help!" - watching our President drive by the miles of rubble that used to be a community, it all becomes very real.

Coming home every night to an apartment without power, eating wherever people are offering food, taking freezing cold showers and lying in the very quiet, very dark night, all sounds very unpleasant. But I'm alive. And I have a home to come back to at the end of the day. And while I may not know whether or not I still have a job, that can be replaced.

The death toll across the south is devastating. The loss of this community alone is devastating. It will take a while for things to get back to "normal."

But we are human beings, and we are resilient, and we will help each other and in the end, it will be okay again.

Body Language

2011-04-06T19:01:00.004-05:00

I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about my body. Between reading One Girl No Diet (and if you haven't read it yet, you should!) and articles in different magazines, I can't help but obsess a little bit about my personal relationship with my body. Having recently started working at the Gap, I stopped short the other night at work when I realized that, as I was refolding piles of jeans, I was calculating in my head how many inches and how many pounds I'd have to lose to fit into each size. (I effectively ruled out anything below a 6 due to my "child birthing hips.")

In a moment of unreal honesty for women, I will say that I've gained somewhere around 20lbs since moving to Alabama. I was unemployed for a time, at home and bored out of my mind, and depressed. Between emotional eating and inactivity, I quickly found myself back at my highest weight.

I would be lying if I said I was happy with myself. I feel incredibly self conscious about my appearance. Getting dressed in the morning is no longer exciting for me, it's stressful. It's a question of what still fits, what can I "Spanx" myself into, and what's out altogether. I've passed the point where I fall into hysterics trying to get dressed (and what a fun time that was for my boyfriend) but I'm still not pleased. I spend a lot of my day beating myself up. I say things to myself that I would never dream of saying to anyone else. I look at fashion magazines and feel upset with myself that I don't look that way.

I've decided this needs to stop. 90% of my unhappiness stems from a place of self-loathing. I want to be healthier again, I want to eat healthier and feel good about myself, but I don't want to beat myself up and down a gym. I want to start listening to my body.

My body doesn't belong to Cosmo magazine, but it doesn't belong to McDonald's either. My body is my own.

Somewhere in the shuffle that is life, I stopped knowing how to listen to my own body, I stopped hearing the messages it was trying to send me. I want to reset. If my body is happy in a size 12, then I want to be happy in a size 12. I'm tired of feeling like other people have control of my life. Women hear all the time that something can always be changed, that they can fight their DNA for the "perfect" body. I think a perfect body is a well balanced, happy body that is active and healthy but not obsessive.

I'd love to hear what other ladies out there think about this.

Memory Lane

2011-03-09T00:57:00.004-06:00

Earlier this evening, I decided to take a trip down memory lane by looking up YouTube videos of shows from my childhood. It was fun; from Nickelodeon to TGIF, I really enjoyed remembering theme songs and characters that I had once loved. Then I stumbled upon a video from Sharon Lois and Bram's Elephant show - I didn't remember the name, but I did remember the closing number, "Skinamarinky Dinky Dink." My Nana used to sing that song to me regularly, and when I pressed play, I could hear her voice and see her in front of me doing the moves. Tears started rolling down my face. Suddenly, watching these old shows wasn't fun, it was sad.

It made me wonder why so many of us have such strong attachments to things that remind us of our childhood. Why should pulling out an old toy or watching an old movie bring up strong emotions?

My guess is that it reminds us of a simpler time. Maybe that's too cliché. But once I started thinking about it, for me, it made a lot of sense. When you're a kid, your emotions are so blithely simple, but they are also 100% your own. As an adult, your emotions can be so much tied into expectations and emotions of others, but when you're a kid, you only care about how you feel about something.

Kids can experience happiness, sadness, fear, but they experience these things at such a basic level. At just 24, I have experienced loss. I have fully given my heart to someone and had it crushed in his hands. I know fear, regret, self-loathing, depression. Making a mistake means more than just eating a cookie when your mom says not to. A wrong decision at this age seems fraught with life-altering consequences. What if you choose the wrong job, the wrong city, the wrong partner, the wrong timing? As a kid, I would lie awake thinking what I would grab from my room if there was a fire. As an adult, I have had more than one night lying awake in dread thinking about getting older, not because of my own vanity, but the inevitable loss that comes with age.

Obviously, on a more positive note, I experience joy more profoundly. I understand love, compromise, friendship, compassion, and happiness on a much deeper level. I cry when I'm really, truly happy. I can make my own decisions, I can choose my own path.

But frankly, being a kid was so easy. Kids don't have much to worry about. They don't have expectations to manage beyond getting good grades and not beating up their siblings (I was only good at one of those things...) They still have a whole future ahead of them untainted by "Did I make the right choice...?"

Perhaps at 24 I'm too young to really understand. Things that I thought were dramatic and life-altering at 14 seem pretty stupid now; I imagine at 34 I'll find this post pretty silly. Maybe I'll have children of my own, already forming weird attachments to shows and toys that no one will really understand but them.

I would let them watch a childhood favorite of mine, Rocko's Modern Life, but watching it as an adult makes me think it was perhaps a bit questionable for children.

Parental Control

2011-03-02T13:36:00.004-06:00

As you grow older, the list of things your parents were right about grows longer and longer.

When I was a teen, I rarely had problems with my Mom. We went through our rough patch when I was in middle school (apparently, pre-teen angst + post-divorce angst does not equal smooth sailing). Her preferred method of discipline was the "I'm so disappointed in you," head shake followed by silent treatment, which was infinitely worse than shouting ever would have been.

My Dad and I, on the other hand, seemed to constantly be in conflict. He seemed to know when my brother and I had screwed up before we even got home (it kept me out of a lot of trouble - no sneaking out!). He took some kind of sick joy in rousing me out of bed at 8 AM during the summer - he even had a gleeful little song to go with it. And he worked at home, so there was no sneaking back into bed after he left. My eating habits were a huge point of contention for us: there was the time he made me sit at the table for what felt like hours until I finished my black eyed peas (Winner: Dad) or the time that he dug a cube steak out of the garbage that I'd thrown away after only one bite, insisting that I would finish it or I'd have nothing else to eat (Winner: Me. That thing was disgusting and burnt, which he eventually had to admit.).

The most terrifying part about my dad was that he had some sort of method to his madness that we could just never figure out. He was a big fan of the lecture, and as we got older we noticed that his lectures had themes. "Overcoming adversity" was a big one, and "Welcome to the Real World," was a recurring theme my first year in college. There was no telling if he had these themes planned in advance, but they seemed to change yearly. Especially memorable were the, "Do you enjoy living like trash?" lectures, which usually revolved around my brother and me not cleaning up after ourselves (the most traumatic including an exposé on what exactly those missed stains were around the toilet - yikes).

The truly scary thing is that now, as an adult, I often hear my dad's voice. I find myself giving unsolicited driving advice to my annoyed boyfriend, and I have Vietnam-esque flashbacks to my dad's driving lessons. I explain to him that he isn't properly washing the dishes or that his dusting methods are sub-par (use hot water! dust top to bottom!). I open my mouth and my dad's voice comes out. I have to reluctantly concede on a near-daily basis that my dad was right about a lot of things.

So I still may not get up before the sun (sorry Dad!) but I do make sure to scrub every crevice of the toilet (traumatic experiences will do that to you). And as we get older, he reveals some of his secret methods, so that one day we can terrify children of our own.

I still hate black-eyed peas, though.

Blair Waldorf is my Spirit Animal

2011-02-17T18:53:00.003-06:00

I'm sick, so this will be a brief, but totally necessary blog post.

Blair Waldorf is totally my spirit animal. Why? Well, because she dresses like this:

And says things like this:

I'd like to think that, should I have the luck to be reincarnated as an uber rich Upper East Side lady, I would be Blair. Maybe I would be less of a bitch, but I would definitely be as controlling and fabulous. Blair Waldorf is me with unlimited funds. She loves Audrey Hepburn, Paris, fashion, ruining peoples lives.. okay maybe I don't love ruining peoples lives. And secretly, neither does Blair. But none of that really matters because she has an amazing wardrobe. Somewhere inside of me is a Blair Waldorf waiting to get out. Love her.

Rant: A full serving of BS

2011-02-16T15:59:00.004-06:00

Not having a full time job gives you a lot of time to do worthless stuff - like leave TV on mindlessly in the background while you mindlessly search the internet. Something that I've noticed lately is the trend of food companies to advertise a "full serving of fruits and vegetables in every ____!"

The most irritating of these is the Manwich commercial, featuring a young child dressed up as a Manwich. While sitting at the table with the whole family (eating Manwiches, natch), his father asks, "Isn't this play about the farmer's vegetable patch?" to which the child responds, "There's a full serving of vegetables in every Manwich!"

The ploy of course is that you can serve your kids these foods guilt free, because they're good for you! Another fairly offensive example is the Chef Boyardee commercials that imply that it's so good for kids, you can serve it as a snack! I don't know who these people are pitching to, but in my family, Chef Boyardee would never qualify as a snack (let alone a meal, but that is something altogether different). And if you're an adult who doesn't like fresh food, just drink a V-8 Fusion!

Guys. If you want your kids to get a full serving of vegetables, why don't you just serve them vegetables? In this day and age, where shows like A&E's Heavy and Mtv's I Used to Be Fat chronicle the struggle of obese people to lose weight and change eating habits they've had their whole lives, it is irresponsible for these companies to advertise the way they do. And it doesn't stop on the TV. At the grocery store, boxes of sugary cereal and bags of salty chips are labeled, "Now made with whole grains!"

As an adult, I have definitely succumbed to the siren call of the drive through (and I am 99% sure I keep my local Chipotle in business), but I am also educated enough to know what is good for me and what isn't. I'm pretty sure if I snacked down on a serving of Chef Boyardee everyday, I would not be a healthy, happy individual. I would probably stare lustily at the fresh food section of my local supermarket, my body would be craving fresh fruits so badly.

Young children, however, don't know. I don't think it should be legal for these companies to advertise their food as being healthy when it just isn't. Parents shouldn't be able to justify feeding their children crap because, somewhere in that jar, it contains a serving a vegetables. I get it, kids don't like veggies (I hated them) but you have to work with them to find what they do like and to find ways to make what they don't like palatable. Get them involved in shopping and cooking.

I rarely talk about food or eating habits (because mine are hardly pristine) but I had to get this one off my chest. I'll give this soapbox back to the health nuts now and get back to munching on my burrito bowl. ;)

Valentine's Day

2011-02-14T16:01:00.003-06:00

Happy Valentine's Day!

So many people freak themselves out over Valentine's Day. If you're in a relationship, it's about making the biggest show, buying the best flowers or the sexiest lingerie, getting reservations at the best restaurant. If you're single, it's about focusing on how single you are, calling the day "Singles Awareness Day" and moping around all the happy couples.

Hey guys, it's okay! Valentine's Day is a day like any other. Just take it easy! If you're in a relationship, do something low key that you know the other person will appreciate. For the singles, what better day to celebrate the person you love most (hopefully yourself!)? Do something that makes you happy. One year, freshly single, my friend and I went to dinner at our favorite restaurant - our own romantic date. It was perfect.

Just like any other day, Valentine's day will eventually be over. So whether you hate it or love it, enjoy yourself today! Here are some Valentine's Day photos I found on the web:

A sweet Valentine's Day Print.

Who wouldn't want to receive this huge bouquet?

Two real life lovebirds - look at those gorgeous colors!

And finally, for when your Valentine is yourself or your bestie.

Rant: Sex and The City

2011-02-11T14:25:00.003-06:00

Every girl worth her weight in lip gloss adores Sex and the City, endlessly quoting Carrie on her Facebook profile, tweets, maybe even in her email signature.

Well, I'm probably going to get my girl card revoked for this, but I hate Sex and the City.

E! has recently started re-airing all the episodes (albeit edited versions) and thanks to my recent case of insomnia, I've had a chance to re-watch. There was a time in my teens that I was obsessed with this show - the glamorous clothes! the powerful women! the sex scenes! - but as an adult I have become increasingly annoyed while watching.

It was always the rage to ask "Which girl are you? Are you a Carrie? A Samantha? A Charlotte? A Miranda?" to which I say, "WHO CARES?!" I find each of the four women to be caricatures (maybe this is intentional, I've heard they're supposed to represent the four parts of any woman, which makes me want to vomit as a concept) but even more offensive, they are down right annoying. They represent some sort of faux neo-feminism where they sleep with who they want, when they want, while doing exactly what they want, all while spouting fabulous puns. (Oh my god, those puns!)

The most offensive part of the whole series is Mr. Big. If I hear one more girl say that she "just wants to find my Mr. Big," I will scream. Mr. Big was an emotionally unavailable flighty douchebag. You want to find a Mr. Big? Go to a bar on a Friday night, it's probably full of Mr. Bigs. Sex and the City promotes the idea that a woman can eventually change a man, that eventually Mr. Big realizes that Carrie is The One, and despite a few hiccups, they end up happily ever after. I'm sorry, if a guy left me at the altar, game OVER. Over the course of the series, Carrie leaves Big, returns to Big, Big leaves her, wants her again - I mean, this is a profile of an unhealthy relationship people!

What was wrong with Aiden? He was too steady. He was simple. He had a country home and a dog. He just loved Carrie, no matter what she did, and Carrie was probably bored by the emotional simplicity of the relationship.

I think my generation of women have been ruined by shows like Sex and the City. We think that life is about sleeping/dating around until your mid-thirties, a series of tumultuous relationships to be discussed over cosmos with your best girlfriends. We think a relationship is boring if it's easy. Love is work. Love is chasing Mr. Big. And on top of that, it seems like the women are always being punished in one way or another for being ambitious in the career force; it is either love or work, you can't have both.

My advice is to do what you want. If you find a "boring" guy who loves you and encourages you to follow your dreams, and you're only 25, good for you. I'm not saying get married ASAP, but it's okay to be comfortable. It's okay to be settled. It's okay to stop chasing douchebags. And it is DEFINITELY okay to stop drinking cosmos, cause come on guys, cosmos?

Job Fair

2011-02-10T18:41:00.004-06:00

Around New Year's, I swore to myself I was going to keep up with this blog more. So far I'd give myself an F-, so I'm going to change that with an honest post!

My current employment status has been a topic of conversation for a surprising amount of people, so I figured I'd set the record straight. Am I employed right now? Well, yes and no. I'm currently working part time at a retail store here in Tuscaloosa (part time defined as between 12 and 20 hours a week for slightly above minimum wage). Was that my dream job? Hardly. I didn't sink myself into debt and pursue a master's to be working part time and to land back in the world of retail again. I took the job back in September after over a month of fruitless job searching just to get some income through the door while waiting for something full time to open up, since I was essentially hemorrhaging the last of my student loan money. I didn't think I would be in that position for more than 8 weeks; nearly 6 months later, I have been proven wrong.

Am I currently looking for a full time job? Absolutely! (And coincidentally, if you know of one, holla!) I am fairly certain that I have thought of and tried everything. Let's run through a list of suggestions you might make:

1) Did you look at the University of Alabama?
A) Yes. That is the first place I placed several applications. The problem is that many of the jobs that open up at the university are niche jobs - professors, adjuncts, administrators - that I simply don't qualify for, for one reason or another.

2) Have you checked _______ (enter website here)?
A) Yes. Craigslist, Indeed, Monster, USAJOBS, the list goes on. The frustrations of internet job searching are two fold: one, postings can often be scam jobs; two, they are rarely listed with a contact number, so you are forced to just send your resumé out into the abyss of the internet and hope for a call back. Hardly effective.

3) Have you thought about tutoring French?
A) Yes. The reason I don't consider this as an option is mainly because I am not confident enough in my language skills to teach them to someone else. I am confident that I can function in France on a daily basis; I am not confident that I could explain to a local student what the difference is between the conditional and subjunctive.

I can assure you that I have been on more interviews that I care to keep track of. They have all "gone well": I have "made the decision very difficult" and been deemed "overqualified" by most. Some don't call back (a rather strange habit people around here have - you call, leave a message, they never call back. This is rude and unprofessional, head's up.). I am currently with an employment agency under the care of a very perky young lady named Lindsay who believes she's one week away from finding me the right job. I took an internship at a local design firm, Matt Clinton Designs, to meet more people and get more exposure and experience.

My current employment situation has been a seemingly unending source of fresh disappointment for a growing number of people, not least of which being me. I knew coming back from France that the economy was bad, but I figured a young, motivated, educated person like myself had the best chance of anyone of finding a job. I came back from spending Christmas with family in Florida with a positive attitude; 2011 was going to be my year, I just knew it. Even my horoscope said there would be a great career change the 4th of January (and when have horoscopes ever been wrong?). I am trying to maintain my positive outlook, but it is difficult given the circumstances.

What do I think my roadblocks have been? Namely, my location. The nearby city of Birmingham has a high unemployment rate - 15% - and while the university has sheltered Tuscaloosa from a hard hit, times are no less difficult here for people like me. I am not the only young, unemployed person in the city - I've been told on a number of occasions that I'm lucky to have a paying job at all. Another factor is, frankly, me. I'm from Florida, spent a year in Paris, have a master's degree from Columbia, and I think that most employers here view me as a liability more than an asset. I feel that they believe (and probably rightly so) that as soon as my boyfriend finishes law school that I will blow this popsicle stand.

But, as ballet director Thomas says in the movie Black Swan, "The only person standing in your way is you." And so with every failed attempt, I think to myself, "This can only mean there is something better waiting around the corner." For every dead-end path, there must be another door opening somewhere. I just have to find it.

2011

2011-01-31T15:21:00.003-06:00

Le Flâneur (music by The XX) from Luke Shepard on Vimeo.

This video is so amazing.

It's hard to love a place, especially one so far away. You can't pick up the phone and call a place when you're missing it. And as much as I'd love to, I can't just jump on a plane and fly over to say hello. There are very few places that I have ever felt this connected to. Seeing a video of Paris, a picture, makes my heart heavy. I just really miss it.

Oh cherie

2010-09-29T15:16:00.003-05:00

It has been just over two months since my return from Paris, and I still can't believe I was ever there.

Admittedly, I spent a good portion of my time there wishing I was home. I had imagined that living in Paris would be strolling through museums, sipping good coffee at cafés while studying, taking tons of photos. Between grad school and my nannying job however, that changed a bit. I was often tired and homesick. As much as I loved living in a big city, it wore on me after a while. And the weather was horrible between November and May, which was depressing for this Florida girl.

So Paris for me is a bit like an ex-boyfriend. I loved Paris, but it just wasn't meant to be: I had better things to come home to.

But like all ex-boyfriends, Paris likes to remind me of what I'm missing. The first two episodes of Gossip Girl this season were set in Paris, Anthony Bourdain did his 100th episode in Paris (opening at Le Tête dans les Olives, which made an appearance here!), and French fashion week kicks off today, reminding me that just one year ago I was rubbing elbows with some of my favorites.

Watching tv shows with their stunning sweeping visual shots of one of my favorite cities sets me down the rosy path to nostalgia. Suddenly, I remember my time in Paris completely different: I was sipping coffee in a museum while taking pictures AND I was wearing Chanel the whole time! Okay, maybe not that idealistic, but I definitely feel those pangs in my heart when I see streets that I used to walk down. It's to the point that seeing pictures of even London or New York make me yearn for the big city. (I'm choosing to blame that on my current locale, Tuscaloosa Alabama, which is hardly a cultural epicenter.)

So Paris is that ex that I'll never really truly be over. I already want to go back, just for a week, just a short fling to get my fix. I want a hot chocolate from Angelina's. I want to stand outside of fashion shows just to admire the well-dressed mob. I want to walk down the Avenue Montaigne imagining my life as a trust-fund baby.

I need to find a job where they send me to Paris twice a year or more. Anyone know of such a job in Alabama? I don't think retail is going to cut it.

The Last Night

2010-07-16T17:02:00.003-05:00

I'm sitting in my living room, looking around at my emptied out apartment and my packed bags. Don't ask me how I feel, because I don't really know.

I'm really excited to be coming home, for sure. But it still doesn't feel real that I won't be coming back to France. It feels like I'm going home for another vacation, even though looking around me I can clearly see that I won't be living here anymore. It's a very surreal moment.

I can't believe that I actually did it, mostly. I dreamed of coming to Paris and living like a Parisian, even if only for a short time. It feels weird to think that I won't wake up tomorrow and take that familiar walk to the metro, that I won't go to work or to school, that I won't see so many of these things anymore, at least not for a long time.

This is a quote from my friend Jenna:

"'You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place,'... 'like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you'll never be this way ever again.'"
-Azar Nafisi from "Reading Lolita in Tehran.

That's how I feel. I know that one day I'll come back to Paris, but it will never be the same as it is right now. I will never again be who I was the day I landed here. And that's life, and that's okay. I am leaving a better person for my experiences here.

Being here, in the end, has been worth all the heartache, the loneliness, the frustration, everything that I have felt since I have been here has taught me so much. I can do something on my own - completely on my own, without a safety net nearby. I can move to a completely different country and make it.

Now I'm ready to come home and prove that I can make it as an adult. Another chapter of my life, closing. I never like endings, and this one feels so definite. It's a strange feeling, stranger than when I got here. To leave a place knowing that you may truly never see it or the people you've met there again - it's interesting to say the least.

I feel like I have so much to say but not the words to say it. I think I'll have to come home and be removed to really be able to process everything. The ups and the downs of living here have made it worthwhile in the end, and I think it's safe to say that this is one chapter of my life I will never forget.

And I have the feeling the next one is even better.

The final countdown

2010-07-09T16:41:00.004-05:00

It's strange, how I'm starting to feel about leaving. It almost doesn't seem real, that in one week I'll be coming home for good. I get strong twinges of sadness about leaving, even though I've been missing home very much. I know that even if I do come back one day, the people, the places, even myself, nothing will ever quite be the same as it is in this moment.

I look up at planes in the night sky, and my heart aches. I wonder how many people on that plane are on their way home, how many are leaving. I wonder if anyone on that plane is experiencing the same bundle of emotions that I felt nearly a year ago when I left home. I wonder how many people on that plane have someone anxiously waiting for them at the airport. I wonder how I will feel when I get on a plane to leave Paris, one last time, without a return ticket in hand.

Ever since I could remember, I always felt that it was somewhat unfair that we only get to experience life through one vantage point, that we only get one shot at understanding the world. I feel like this year has been my opportunity to experience a different one, even if it is only borrowed. When I first came to Europe, I wanted to drink everything in. I wanted to be able to spend a year in England, in France, in Greece, everywhere, just to experience real life somewhere else besides home. I don't have enough time in my life to experience everything that there is in this world to be experienced, but I'm pretty happy with the small slice I'll be taking home with me.

Fashion Showing

2010-07-06T16:04:00.004-05:00

Today started out as any other day. I helped out with various projects around the office, and about 30 minutes before I was scheduled to leave I was asked to make a coffee run. In my mind, and I bet in yours, the word "Starbucks" springs to mind. However, this is Paris, not New York, and so instead I was sent down to the cafe across the street and given a waiter's tray to load up with real coffee cups, espresso cups, and two glasses of iced coffee. Praying that I wouldn't drop the coffee everywhere, I made it slowly back to the office where I made my rounds, like a waiter, around the office giving everyone their orders. Not so bad for my first experience in food service!

After that, I gathered up my things and went to leave. My boss called me over and asked what I was doing for the next two hours; I didn't have any real plans other than to come home, so I told her that, expecting her to need me to stay longer as it's couture week here in Paris. Instead, she handed me an invite to a fashion show, telling me that I could tag along with the other people from the office who were going.

Yea. Cue freak out. Internally, obviously, 'cause I'm a cool individual who doesn't get excited over things like fashion shows. I mean, I go to fashion shows when I have nothing better to do you know? (SIKE! Yea, I was freaking out.)

The invite and the program. I got to go to the Stephane Rolland show, as they had an extra invite. And that is how I ended up second row at a couture fashion show in Paris, my very first.

I didn't take too many pictures ('cause as I said, I'm cool) but it was definitely an experience. I took a chauffeured van with the other journalists to the show and walked in. Rosanna Arquette was there, and some other people who might be famous in other countries, but that was pretty much it.

Which was kind of a bummer, actually, because GOSSIP GIRL is currently filming in Paris! I still hope to see them filming, and every time I see pictures I'm like, "Ah I know where that is! I've been there!" You may remember my post about the cool oyster bar? Yes, well, they were filming there today. Chuck Bass, Serena van der Woodsen, Blair Waldorf, all wandering around the city in which I live? I love it.

But back to my first fashion show. I really enjoyed it. The lights, the music, the models..it was a pretty awesome experience. I might be addicted now.

Now all that's left to do is find Leighton Meester, befriend her, and get her to take me to fashion shows/give me her Gossip Girl wardrobe.

Exciting news!

2010-06-30T11:30:00.004-05:00

First, the soldes (or the "sales") started today in Paris, and I stopped into a department store to see what was happening. I saw these Miu Miu flats that I've had my eyes on all season:

They had them in pink, in my size, for just 215 euros! But, I was responsible and didn't get them, which I'm sure I'll be kicking myself for soon.

BUT!

In news EVEN MORE EXCITING than Miu Miu flats nearly half off, I'M OFFICIALLY PUBLISHED!

Yes, that is my name on the byline, and it's not just on the website! It was in today's paper! I didn't write the opening paragraph - Christina Lee, who I'm assuming works in Milan wrote some of it, and they did take some phrases from what I wrote - but I spent the past two days calling PR houses here in Paris and compiling playlists from the men's shows last weekend. And now my name is in a publication that makes it to Anna Wintour's desk!

Pretty awesome.

A Weekend in London (or why hotels.com is the best/worst business ever)

2010-06-27T14:25:00.003-05:00

Brace yourselves my dear readers, because this is a long story.

My brother has been in town for just over a week now, and we decided to go to London for the weekend. I was worried at first because we only booked a week in advance, and I had a bad feeling about it, but was looking forward to the trip nonetheless.

We left my apartment around 5:45 AM to make the 7:15 train. We got off the train in London at 8:30, and right off the bat the ATM retains my brother's debit card for suspicion of fraud (PS - if you travel, call your card companies to let them know and avoid that happening). After that, the day was going well enough; we were walking around seeing the sites, got around okay, and after a fish and chips dinner decided we would head to the hotel, because we were both really tired.

I had booked a hostel, Palmers Lodge Hostel, through hotels.com that had fabulous reviews on tripadvisor.com; it was about $88 for the two of us, which is expensive for a hostel but we did book late. We get to the hostel and it looks very nice, lots of young people coming and going which was exciting for Hunter, and we go to check in. I give the man my name and he says, "Who did you book with?" I told him, and he pulls out this folder. "Yea, we emailed them earlier this week rejecting your booking because we're full, and they never checked with our availability. You're the third person who has come in today using hotels.com with this problem."

I didn't panic, because I was worried that might happen anyway, so I was prepared. He made a few phone calls and told Hunter and me to make ourselves at home while he sorted things out with the hotels.com people. After about 30 minutes of us checking the internet and watching the soccer match, he calls me over and hands me a map. "Alright, well they've found you a hotel with availability and they're going to absorb the cost difference." He explained how to get there, and after taking a bus, a subway, and a bit of a hike we found ourselves outside of Queens Hotel, situated in a quiet suburban area of London. From the outside, it didn't look too bad, and it was marked as a bed and breakfast, which I thought would make it quaint or cute even. Then we went inside.

I would like to say that I am not a snobby person. I do not have to stay in 5 star hotels to be happy, but I do need to feel safe and that I won't contract some kind of terrible illness from staying in a hotel. This hotel did not meet either of these needs. The man at reception, a very kind Indian man (who my brother perhaps accurately described as "creepy nice, like you would wake up with him standing over you") handed us two keys to two separate bedrooms, one of which was in the basement. Now feeling nervous, we went to check out the first room: about the size of a closet, the sheets looked like they had neither been washed nor changed in a very long time, the window was open into an alley, there was a TV that did not work, a sketchy looking sink on the corner, and due to the dirtiness and run-down state of things, overall I had the impression that I was actually in the storage room of a jiffy store.

Hunter and I just looked at each other, turned around, and headed back to the front desk. I asked the man at the reception for the hotels.com customer service number, and headed outside, my heart sinking into my stomach as I dialed the number on my American cell phone. I explained to the man what had happened, and told him that I did not think this was an even exchange for what I had paid. After a bit of conversation, he told me that he had nothing left that was open.

"You are telling me that in the entire city of London, there isn't a single hotel with availability for two people besides this one?"

"No ma'am," was his reply, and told me I would have to take this up with Expedia (I guess hotels.com must be a part of expedia.com, but who knows). I called Expedia, and the number was bad. I called back the hostel that I had originally dealt with, as the man working there had been incredibly helpful and kind, and he gave me a new number and a reference number. By this point I am painfully aware of the phone bill I am racking up, and call the new number. They refer me to someone else again.

As one can imagine, this was very frustrating and I was beginning to wonder what we would do for the evening. There was no way that we could, or would, stay where we were, and no one that I spoke to seemed willing to help. I started in on the next person I spoke to and asked if I could please just speak to a manager. He snapped back with a rather short, "Ma'am, I am just trying to do my job and understand your situation, talking to my manager isn't going to help things." This person had no record of moving me from Palmers Lodge in the first place. He put me on hold, and by now I was freaking out. He came back and asked if he could call me back in 10 minutes while he sorted things out. I began to cry (because I'm a baby and I was very stressed) and explained to him that all these phone calls were costing me a lot of money, that I was in a city that I didn't know, and that I needed to get out of where I was. He gave me his personal extension in case he didn't call back in 10 minutes, and promised me he would figure things out.

By now, complete strangers had stopped on the street to ask my brother and me if we needed any help (which is why I love the British) and the receptionist had come outside. He asked if I was alright, and he looked like he felt bad, though because the windows were open I imagine he overheard my phone conversations about his hotel. We went back inside so I could use the bathroom (that didn't flush, and was shared for the whole hallway) and Hunter and I waited in the room for the phone call back.

The phone finally rang, and the man said that he had figured everything out. He asked me where I wanted to move - I told him Central London, and looked at a map and just randomly threw out Mayfair as an option. He said he would check and see if anything was available; he found a hotel called the Millennium Hotel, and asked if we wanted a king bed. I told him that frankly anything would be great at that point as long as it was not the hotel we were at. He found a room with two singles beds, at a cost of over $400 a night including tax. Just as I was beginning to panic again, he started typing and said, "Let me see if it will let me override this... yes, we can cover the price difference for you." On top of that, he offered me a $25 refund to cover any transportation expenses I might come across.

He began to give me the address. "Let me spell it for you," he said, and he started: "G-r-o-s-v-e-n-" and by this point I knew he was spelling out "Grosvenor Square," a name I was familiar with. Not wanting to get my hopes up, my brother and I left the hotel (after a stern looking woman checked the room to be sure we hadn't used anything) and headed to Mayfair.

We walked past the Marriot, the American Embassy, and Maze, a restaurant by Gordon Ramsay, and I knew we were in a very nice area. I didn't dare get my hopes up, until we came to the address: The Millennium Hotel London Mayfair. We walked into the lobby, thankfully were immediately given our keys, and went upstairs to our room, which was pretty much the most amazing room ever. Hunter wanted to go out for a bit, and all I wanted was to take a shower and lie down. The bed was amazing (to me, the most important part of any hotel) and we both ended up sleeping very well and waking up in much better moods.

At the end of the day, we stayed at a 4-star hotel in a posh neighborhood of London for about $53. Not too shabby. But the stress and panic that came along with it (not to mention my phone bill, which I'm terrified to see) was probably not worth it.

Today we had a very nice day, the weather was actually amazing, if not a little too hot for London, and the trip overall was a success. I'll always have a special place in my heart for London and the Brits.

Even if they did just lose to Germany.

World Cup Madness

2010-06-18T11:04:00.004-05:00

One thing that the US has just never managed to get a hold of is this soccer craze- and from here on out, I'm calling it football. (Think about American football - it is rarely played with the feet - crazy right?)

The World Cup is happening right now, and for my American friends that is pretty much the biggest sporting event in the world. It only happens once every 4 years, and the final game of the last Cup in 2006 had an estimated 715 million viewers worldwide. To put that in perspective, the estimated population of the United States in 2009 was around 307 million, and the Super Bowl, the biggest US sporting event, had about 106 million viewers in 2010. (Which is a mind blowing statistic in itself - one-third of Americans watch the Super Bowl? Who knew?)

Of course, some of you band-wagoners are probably aware that the World Cup is going on because the US is playing. Mostly though it is an event for the rest of the world who watch football even between World Cups. It is pretty awesome to be in Europe right now because frankly they take this stuff pretty seriously. In Paris, the team you support even has implications politically - if you support Algeria, a former colony, it means that you are probably Algerian and it definitely means that you aren't really "French," because you don't support Les Bleus (France - literally, The Blues).

I love watching the games - which is surprising, but they are fascinating and captivating from start to finish. They go quickly, with little to no commercial breaks, time outs, and breaks between plays (I'm looking at you, American football). Watching Germany absolutely destroy Australia on Sunday was amazing; watching France get run over by Mexico last night was pretty funny too. The best part about being here is watching the games with my windows open, because you can hear groups of people screaming in victory or shouting at their teams to "ALLEZ!" (GO!)

I'll admit, I'm cheering for France, even though after the loss to Mexico they don't have much of a chance. It would have been cool to be here if they had won - think Gainesville after a Florida National Championship win, times a million. However, France barely squeaked into the tournament - and not without controversy. In the final game against Ireland for the last spot, one of France's players touched the ball with his hands - a major no no in football - and was never called. The Republic of Ireland even sent a letter to FIFA requesting a rematch.

Well, France hasn't been playing very well this Cup, so it looks like Ireland may have some vengeance after all, even if they don't get to play.

And of course, the vuvuzela. If you haven't watched a match, it's an annoying cheap plastic horn that South Africans play at their matches. If you have watched a match, it's that strange sound all game long that sounds like an angry swarm of bees.

I'll let you guys get back to your USA soccer bandwagon now! I'll meet you there in 4 years. ;)

the Kaiser

2010-06-11T11:15:00.004-05:00

Even though I just turned in a take home final on French-German relations after World War II (thanks to my awesome professor who sympathized with my American skills and let me do the final at home instead of sitting for the exam!) the Kaiser that I am referring to is Kaiser Karl - aka, Karl Lagerfeld.

Karl Lagerfeld is arguably the single most important living person in fashion today. He has been in the fashion business for nearly 50 years, at Chanel for nearly 30 and Fendi for over 40, not to mention all of the other brands he has designed for and his projects he has done on the side. He is an icon: always in dark glasses, white powdered hair pulled back, dressed impeccably. He has made few missteps in his long career and has managed to stay innovative. When Karl talks, people listen. He has an impressive library, always reading and learning, and thus he always has something witty or insightful to say and possesses a great sense of humor.

That is why I am so honored by my new assignment at work: putting together his file. WWD, and I'm assuming other major publications, keep files on all the important designers, ready at a moment's notice should they need to put an article together quickly (see: suicide of Alexander McQueen). I have not looked at other files, just Karl's, but I can only assume that they are not nearly as extensive. The major two documents are a timeline and a quotes file. This man takes up pages and pages. The only person I can think that is comparable is Yves Saint Laurent, who passed away in 2008 and whose obituary took up over 3 pages of the publication.

Someone had already started the file, but to be honest it was not in any kind of shape that I would like (to be fair, I'm a perfectionist). I'm going back through articles that New York sent us that date back to 1967 and pulling quotes that are interesting, in addition to adding to the timeline, which had all the basics but wasn't nearly full enough for a man like Karl Lagerfeld. One of the editors has been passing me interviews that he did with Karl so I can pull from those too.

Then today, as I was at my desk, he walked in and showed me a fax. "From Karl," he said, and sure enough there was 3 pages of his scribbly writing that had just come in. Despite the fact that he is probably frighteningly rich and likely has entire teams of people working for him, Karl handles everything himself: he addresses all his envelopes, makes his own phone calls, writes up his own faxes. And in case you were wondering who faxes anymore, Karl stays off the grid: no email, no Twitter, no Facebook, nothing. It is truly impressive.

It is an assignment that I am taking very seriously, not only to show the people I work for that I take the job seriously and that I am a hard worker, but also because it is Karl Lagerfeld. When he does die - which hopefully won't be any time soon - his legacy deserves all the respect it can get.

I am really enjoying this internship; it's teaching me a lot about a lot of different things, not just fashion journalism. And everyone in my office so far has been very nice - no Miranda Priestlys here.

The Perks of being an Intern

2010-06-03T11:55:00.004-05:00

It has been nearly two weeks since I started my internship. At first, I was really apprehensive because I knew it would be an additional responsibility on an already full plate, but now, I must admit that I am loving it!

Today I went to a press event for Sephora in France - actually, I can't actually be sure it was a press event, since I saw people who didn't look like press, but either way I was sent in the place of the beauty editor who is out of town. It was like a party with chic little bites of food and drinks and hip music. There were stands with products that were set to launch exclusively in Sephora this fall with PR reps who explained the new products. At first it was really intimidating: my job was to take notes on the different products and the people spoke in super fast French. They were PR men which means they were obviously trying to pitch stuff, so I had a lot of products rubbed on my hands while people talked about how "amazing" and "soft" and "creamy" things were. Like, okay people, it's just eyeshadow.

I was there for probably two hours taking notes and passing up the free drinks that continually passed by on trays, as I didn't know how appropriate it would be for me to accept the food and drink (and there was even a cotton candy stand! That was hard to refuse). Then, on my way out, I was handed a HUGE bag on wheels, filled with samples of almost all the products that I had seen that day. And I don't mean sample sizes - I mean full sized products. It was like Ali Baba's cave of wonders, and I'm not even a huge make up person.

Of course, I had to sadly leave all those wonderful beautifully packaged things neatly piled up in the bag at the editor's desk so we can talk about it tomorrow when she gets back into the office. It makes me wonder who does gets to take those things home at the end of the day, because there was some pretty awesome loot in there.

On a different note, I promise when I started this blog I had every intention of writing regularly. I've officially purchased my plane ticket home (July 17th!) and so hopefully I'll have more interesting things to write before then.

Tyler = published author?

2010-05-29T07:04:00.005-05:00

Well, close.

I started my internship with Women's Wear Daily this past Tuesday, and one of my assignments involves writing "scoops," little stories that perhaps don't merit a full article but are worth mentioning. Someone will hand me a press release and ask me to write a little paragraph including the details. I've written 3 so far, and as it turns out they all ran Friday!

Here is one I wrote my first day:

"DESIGN FOR LIVING: After designing silver spoons for Christofle and a perfume bottle for Guerlain, Ora-Ito has moved on to sofas. The French industrial designer has produced five models for Dunlopillo, available exclusively at Conforama, the furniture chain owned by retail-to-luxury group PPR. With names like Mid’Night and Curling, the sofas come in shades of gray and black shot with neon colors and are priced from 140 euros to 990 euros, or $170 to $1,200. “Conforama aims to make design accessible to everyone,” said the firm’s chief executive officer Thierry Guibert."

Okay, so, this isn't exactly what I wrote, but it is more or less mine! Someone (I'm assuming the journalist who asked me to write it) added in more details, like the conversion rate for the euro and the name of the luxury group, but it is almost exactly what I turned in.

This is one I wrote my second day:

"AZZARO’S NEW HORIZONS: Following the success of its pop-up shop in London, which has since become a permanent store, Azzaro is hoping to create a similar buzz in the Middle East with a temporary boutique in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. The French fashion house has partnered with the new luxury lifestyle concept store Maison Bo-M at the Nujoud Mall. The Azzaro corner on the shop’s first floor stocks the brand’s fall collection and accessories including the iconic Paola bag. The boutique opened May 19 and will close July 31."

It is the most changed of the three, I think streamlined a bit from what I wrote.

And this is the one I wrote Thursday:

"HOT AND COLD: Burlesque performer Dita Von Teese continues to seduce the French — and not just her beau, Louis-Marie de Castelbajac. First there was her collaboration with Cointreau on a signature cocktail, the Cointreau Teese, made with the orange-flavored liquor, apple and lemon juice, and violet syrup. That inspired pastry chef Sébastien Bauer of famous Parisian tearoom Angelina to whip up a new macaroon using similar flavors, available this summer. Her newest collaboration may be tamer, but it is no less stylish. Perrier will feature portraits of Von Teese rendered in black and silver on their entire range of products. Called Paparazzi, the limited edition products will go on sale in June."

This one is my favorite - it merited a "Nicely written!" email from the journalist who read it, and pretty much the only thing changed is that she added in "and not just her beau, Louis-Maire de Castelbajac." The rest is almost exactly what I turned in!

Obviously my name isn't on any of these, but it is still very exciting for me! I pulled these from the internet because I wasn't in the office yesterday to get a physical copy, but hopefully the next time I come in I can grab one.

You can see them online here.

Testing, testing, 1,2,3...

2010-05-20T14:57:00.003-05:00

So right now I am in full finals mode. My classes are wrapping up, my internship with Women's Wear Daily starts next week, and of course I have a giant thesis project hanging over my head every second, which is really fun.

Last night, I took a final for my discussion class in Mode et Design, basically a course about the evolution of decorative arts (furniture, pottery, etc). I studied with two other American students in the course before the test, and though we didn't feel like we were going to ace it, I at least felt prepared.

The professor handed out booklets to write in, and proceeded to tell us that he was going to read the questions out loud and that we should copy them down. He read out the first question:

"Définissez et expliquez les termes suivantes: pierre dure, grès, ferronnerie" (Define and explain the following terms - hard stone, sandstone, ironworks)

He must have seen my jaw go slack, because he then asked the American students if we needed it written down on the board. Actually, my slack jaw meant that I had never in my life heard any of those terms. This came as a rather nasty surprise to me, considering that I had only missed two courses all semester (one when Shelby was in town and the other when I went home for spring break) and had studied for this exam.

There were 4 questions on the exam, one of which I don't remember, but the other two went a little something like this:

"The application and usage of plastic"

"From pottery to porcelain"

I kid you not, those were literally the forms of the questions, if you can call them that. I don't know if that was a particularly French thing to do, give questions without actions such as "Explain" or "Give the history of" but it was infuriatingly open-ended. It became essentially a game of writing down everything I knew about those terms hoping that something was right. Worse, the professor had this terribly smug look on his face after giving the question out spelling-bee style (giving us the question and then leaving us time to answer before moving on to the next).

I realized looking over my notes again after the exam that I did indeed have those terms in my notes, exactly one time each and with very little in terms of explanation. The problem is that I couldn't listen to French, process it, and take detailed notes all at the same time during class, and so my tendency was to write down what I felt to be the most important and then listen to make sure I absorbed the overall concepts. So all the terms that I have written down several times with lots of explanation - those were the terms I was ready to explain. But Professor Tricky de Trickerson decided he wanted to test us on more obscure concepts.

I guess in that way, professors are the same in every language.

Paris = ghost town?

2010-05-15T14:37:00.003-05:00

Last night, I decided I wanted to have a quiet night in to myself, which is unusual for a Friday since I usually have babysitting commitments. I went out to buy some wine and sushi, and there was hardly a soul to be found. Now, it's not like Saint Mandé, where I live, is a raging party town. Still, it was highly unusual at 8 PM on a Friday night to not see people on their way out to parties and get togethers. Then today, it was finally somewhat nice out after weeks of horrible weather that felt much more November than May. I decided to go for a nice run in the nearby Bois de Vincennes, expecting it to be packed. After all, it was the first nice day in weeks, it was a Saturday, and usually that means the park is filled with families and dogs (sans leash - you have to watch for those!), joggers, and elderly couples out enjoying the weather. But today, I found my running path clear and easy to navigate. And then tonight when I went out to get something to eat, there were plenty of parking spots available in the neighborhood and not a soul to be seen.

What is happening? Is there some kind of zombie outbreak causing everyone to flee the city? Has everyone just decided that they've had enough of the tourists who are starting to crowd the museums? Ah, mais non, mes amis. They are simply faire-ing le pont.

To faire le pont (translation: to make the bridge) is perhaps one of the most time honored French traditions. More than delicious food, linguistic snobbery, more than berets even, the French love to faire a good pont. Obviously this doesn't mean everyone has left the city to build a bridge; let's not be silly. The French get lots and lots of holidays over the course of the year (according to one website, 11), and if one of these holidays falls on a Tuesday or a Thursday, the French just call it a wash and take that Monday or Friday off as well.

Usually, this happens a lot - around 4 times alone between May and June. This year, however, the only one that doesn't fall on a weekend is Ascension, which means this is the only 4 day weekend the Parisians will be having for a long time. (And let's not touch the fact that a country who is staunchly against religious involvement in the state still gives everyone most Catholic holidays off.)

This means that everyone had better have made vacation plans in advance, because when the family I work for tried to get train tickets to the beach, no dice. If someone was going to leave Paris, you had better believe they did it this weekend, which means areas like my little suburb of Saint Mandé are a little deserted. I doubt I will see things this quiet again until August, when everyone likes to take their customary 5 weeks of paid vacation.

Yea, that's right - 5 weeks. Paid. Vacation.

It's not such a bad country after all, this France.

The Last Time

2010-05-01T15:51:00.003-05:00

I'm currently in the Pittsburgh airport enjoying free WiFi (and for that matter, wondering why all airports don't offer free WiFi? It's 2010, people!) and trying to reflect a little on my situation. Leaving loved ones for the 3rd time wasn't any easier than the first or second times. I guess that means maybe it never does get any easier. This time is tinted a little differently, because I know the next time I get on a plane to come home, it will be for good. Part of me is counting every second until this day comes, and part of me wonders how I'll feel that day: sad, relieved, scared? Once again I am in a position of uncertainty, of not knowing what will happen once I'm back in the US for good.

But, I don't want to dwell too much on that, as I've cried enough today. Instead, I'd like to share a funny story. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I am a notorious overpacker. If there's going to be a spontaneous trip to the moon while I'm there, I want to be ready for it. Naturally, this means my bags are always heavy. Sean told me this morning that this bag felt like my heaviest yet. Sure enough, after check-in they weighed my bag and it weighed in at an impressive 55 lbs. Restrictions for international flights are 50lbs for the regular passenger like myself. One of the two women helping me check in informed me that this extra 5 lbs was going to cost me $90 - until the other one corrected her. It would cost me $145.

Luckily, Birmingham is a small (very small) and slow airport so they let me open my bag to see if I could put anything else in my carry on. Peering into my bag, they began to suggest that I move the pancake mix or Oreos (both American treats for the French family) but I knew the weight of those wouldn't make a difference. Sticking my hand through to the bottom of my bag, I pulled out a stack of already - read magazines I was bringing back, and wouldn't you know it, the weight dropped down to 48lbs. The two Delta employees laughed and Sean stared in amazement that A) I'd packed about 7 magazines that I'd already read and B) that they were running me about 7 lbs of bag space.

And just now, as I was updating, they called my name over the speaker. I was a little panicked, but it turns out my window seat (assigned by a very nice man who works at the Delta desk in Birmingham when he saw that it was open and much further towards the front than my old seat) is broken, so I will be taking the seat next to it. More space to spread out to sleep on an overnight flight? I'll take it. And for my (in)convenience, they gave me 2 vouchers for beer or wine for this or any future Delta flight.

At least if I have to leave, I'll do it comfortably.

How to be French: Say "Cheesy"

2010-04-13T11:36:00.003-05:00

I know what you're thinking: cheese! What an obvious subject when you live in France. Okay, well, yes, the cheese here is delightful and stinky, but everyone knows that.

No, what this post is actually about is smiling.

See, French people don't smile. Well, they do, but like everything else, not in the same way Americans smile.

First rule of French smiling: no smiling in photos. A quick glance through a French person's Facebook profile or a gander at their photos put up around the house will tell you that the majority of the time, French people prefer candids. Sure, there might be a photo here or there where a French woman shoots the camera a demure smile with a look that says, yes, I know you're taking a photo of me. But there will be very few photos with that huge grin that we seem to teach children to make from a very young age. I mean, who smiles like that? Is anyone ever really THAT happy? So that rules out posed photos of impeccably (and impossibly) groomed children in front of white backgrounds at Olan Mills, family photos taken in front of the mantle 15 times before everyone is smiling, group shots of your sorority in front of a local bar. If French people are smiling in their photos, they are natural, soft, of the moment.

Second rule of French smiling: don't smile at strangers. Maybe this is a southern thing, but I have this knee-jerk reaction to smile at anyone I make eye contact with. It's my way of saying, hey, I see you there, other human being, and I acknowledge you. This isn't done in France. You make awkward accidental eye contact, so what, just look away. Do you know who smiles at people they don't know? Weirdos. And Americans. (Frankly, probably the same thing to the French).

Rule 2A: Don't smile at the elderly. This was my hardest habit to break. You want to smile at old people: a lot of them still wear berets, and they've usually got some nice hard candy in their pocketbooks or a good story to tell about their youth on the coast of Normandy. But let me just tell you one thing: there is probably no group of people on earth more suspicious of everything than elderly French people. Allow me to elaborate.

Why are you smiling at them? Are you making fun of them? Giving them cheek? And for that matter, why are you holding the door open? Is this some kind of ruse to steal my pocketbook once you're behind me? And don't offer up your seat on the metro, I survived the war, you don't think I can survive 10 minutes standing on this thing? (Of course, if you DON'T offer up your seat, they tut and stare at you because youth today, they have no respect; so just offer the seat up because they'll probably take it anyway.)

Rule 2B (Specifically for women): Don't smile at strange men. Okay. So this seems like a given. But due to the nature of Rule 2 (don't smile at people you don't know) French women only smile at men they are interested in, a phenomenon that I actually have not witnessed. This means that if you smile at someone, even accidentally, they think you're interested. An anecdote:

I was walking down the sidewalk with a friend, who was telling a story. I was smiling, because it was an amusing story, and ACCIDENTALLY made eye contact with a man sitting on a nearby bench. Of course, this was his cue to stand up and approach me. After my standard issue of "Non, merci," he called out after me, "Then why are you smiling?"

Lesson learned.

The easiest way to keep this straight is to only smile at people in France if they've smiled at you first. Unless they're weirdo Americans.

Pâques

2010-04-04T12:55:00.003-05:00

Being so far away from my own family and their wonderful food on a holiday like this is always a little depressing, and my adoptive French family went to the countryside to spend their Easter exploring a chateau with some friends (how French!) so it has been a rather lonely holiday. Add to this that I haven't really eaten or left my apartment in about 3 days due to a stomach illness, and I was finally in the mood to get out and have some real food.

Around mid afternoon, I decided I didn't want to sit around my apartment moping with only a pasta dinner to look forward to, and I figured some French café had to be open. I got dressed and walked up the main drag in Saint Mandé, passing a Japanese restaurant that was open (a good fall back option, but decidedly un-Easter-y) and reaching a big intersection, saw two other options: Hippopotamus, a burger chain, and Le Royal Comptoir, a local brasserie. I've always been interested in trying Le Royal Comptoir, being that I pass it nearly every day and it's always full of people, and I've had Hippo before (embarrassing to admit, as it really is a chain à l'américain, and no, I don't get the name).

One of their specials today was lamb with potatoes au gratin, which sounded Easter appropriate to me (perhaps with the exception of the lamb.. sorry little lamby) to which I added a little pot of red wine. Quicker than I expected, I was presented with an enormous plate of lamb and potatoes and I was not to be disappointed. The lamb was so tender it was practically falling apart as soon as I touched it with the fork, and the potatoes were perfectly seasoned. Of course, not having eaten in 3 days, I only managed about a third of the plate, but it was just as well. Naturally, I finished my wine - one doesn't leave good wine behind!

I stopped by an open patisserie on my way home for some macarons to satisfy my sweet tooth and my need for pretty Easter colors in my house. Have I yet mentioned how perfect macarons are? They are just the right size to satisfy a sweet tooth after dinner, they go well with coffee, they come in a full range of flavors... in other words, I am going to miss them when I come back to the states.

Full and satisfied, I took a completely unnecessary nap (I choose to blame the wine, but mid afternoon naps are a holiday tradition with me) and though I enjoyed my little holiday, I still miss my family. So here is a Very Happy Easter to all of you! I miss and love you all so very much.

England vs. France

2010-04-03T12:17:00.003-05:00

Wow, I am not so good with the updates lately! I apologize, I've just had a lot going on here lately (and not the exciting, fun stuff - the boring, schoolwork stuff).

While Shelby was here (it's been over a month now! so long ago) we took a day trip to London. I have always had a place in my heart for all things British, but I had really forgotten how much I love London and the U.K. as a whole until I got there. They speak English! They're so friendly! They're so helpful! The British really are a lovely people, I have never had a bad experience with them. I also personally adore the British landscape. So somewhere between The Tower of London and Hyde Park, Shelby (who by now had also fallen in love with England) asked, "Why didn't you study here for a year?"

Um.. that is an excellent question. Truthfully, I don't know. Ever since I can remember I have dreamed of going to England, and when I studied abroad at Cambridge University in the summer of 2005, I can safely say it was one of the best experiences of my life. I truly consider that summer a huge turning point in my life, for a number of reasons, and made some really amazing friends. (Megan, who is teaching in LA, has a funny and eye opening blog about her experiences there; Kate, who is probably one of the most fun 9th grade English teachers ever; Chris, who is teaching English with the Peace Corps in the Ukraine; Steve, currently a law student at UF; Charity, who has a master's degree from Cornell and recently got engaged to the man she met in Cambridge; Kacy and Jay, who are both going to have babies soon!) (But NOT together, just to be clear!)

So why, when the time came for me to take my "big adventure," didn't I choose England? I think my only answer is that I minored in French, and I wanted the opportunity to really use it and perfect it, rather than slowly forget it as the years went on. Also, my trip to Paris in the summer of 2007 left me wanting more.

However, after one day in England, I did wonder if I made a mistake. I have nothing against the French, but they are not as open and friendly as the English. Coming from the south, I am so used to that friendliness that I really miss it some days in Paris when the metro driver won't hold the doors for me or when the cashier at Monoprix gives me a dirty look for giving him a 50 euro bill. Meanwhile, I get off the EuroStar in London, the man at the ticket counter gives me all the information I need to know, asks me what I'm planning on doing, tells me he can sell me tickets for that, and wishes me a nice day without me saying it first.

Plus, the accent!

I am glad that I'm in Paris though; I think the additional challenge of living my life in a different language has been a huge experience for me, and I do love the French. I think being here has made me appreciate America so much more as a country. We may not be perfect, but we are pretty great. I'm just really excited to be visiting my boyfriend Sean for break in just a week and a half!

Spring fever

2010-03-20T16:02:00.004-05:00

It finally looks like spring is on its way to Paris. Thursday the predicted high was 60 degrees - and it ended up being 67! Being a Florida girl at heart, that meant that I could FINALLY put on a cute floral top, a cardigan, and a pair of sandals with my jeans.

Paris Lesson Number 247: It does not matter how nice it is outside, wearing sandals before June is apparently not done. You just can't do it. I'm telling you, it was 67 degrees and cloudy and everyone else on the metro was still sporting a wool coat and boots. And I definitely fielded some strange looks.

Even the little girl I babysit made a comment. She said, "Bah, ecoute Tyler, t'es vraiment trop americaine." (Um, listen Tyler, you really are too American.) When I asked why she responded, "Tu portes les tongs même en hiver!" (You're wearing thongs even though it's winter!) (The sandals, not the underwear pervs!)

Alright, to be fair, I guess March 18th was still winter. To reiterate, I'm from Florida. The fact that March has arrived and I can't be lounging poolside like all my Florida friends are (and you can all stop updating your Facebook status about it, I'm sufficiently jealous now, thank you) strikes me as very bizarre. So I took the first chance I've had in a long time to not wear 50 extra pounds of clothing, but lesson learned. I'll tone it back to ballet flats ... for now.

The rain has come back but the high is not predicted below 50 for the rest of the week, and I've officially turned off my heaters, hopefully for good. I guess this is what a "real" spring is like - slow coming and still kind of chilly. There are apparently more seasons than "really hot" "hot" "nice" and "kind of chilly"!

Who knew?

Oh mon Dior

2010-03-14T07:13:00.007-05:00

For those of you who read my blog regularly, I'm sorry for the delay! I found myself a bit too busy to catch up the past couple of weeks between gallivanting around Paris with my best friend and then the subsequent game of catch up I had to play with my classwork.

Let's get straight to the good stuff: Paris Fashion Week!

As you all probably remember from last Fashion week, I can't get into the tents. Boo. What I could do (and did) was stand outside the tents and watch all the wonderful fashion float past me. I saw a few celebrities: Clemence Poesy outside Chloé, Jared Leto and the one and only Lindsay Lohan, both outside Dior. Along with those big names, I saw the regular crew of fashionistas, from editors to models, from bloggers to socialites. It was like the best parade ever.

What was different from last year was that I got to spend a fashion oriented day with my fashion loving bestie, Shelby. We decided that Friday, her last day in Paris, would be the day where we dressed extra cute and sat outside the Dior tent. We started the day at Ladurée, a luxurious tea room known for their macarons where I'd never eaten. I got the French toast at the recommendation of the two American ladies at the table next to us, and Shelby got a croissant that I can only describe as being the love child of a croissant and baklava. Amazing and luxuriously different from my usual breakfast of fruit and yogurt! Of course, you can't go to Ladurée without getting the macarons!

Look at how divine these look! They were so delicious. From top to bottom: citron, green apple, rose, vanilla.

After our delightful and surprisingly not outrageously expensive breakfast, we headed over to Avenue Montaigne, my favorite street in the world. Shelby was on the hunt for a particular pair of Chanel sunglasses that she bought when she first came to Paris a few years ago (they were tragically lost in a birthday dinner incident). The first Chanel did not have them, but mentioned that the flagship store on Rue Cambon might have them. Having never been to Rue Cambon - the store where Coco Chanel originally set up shop, and where she kept an apartment - I was excited to see the store. Before we left the area we headed over to Dior, where I bought mascara (mine is running low) and was tempted to buy a lip balm for 25 euros, but was saved when the woman at the counter told me they were out. (That packaging is just too chic!) Shelby saw a pair of sunglasses she rather liked, but was still yearning for those original Chanels, so off we went.

Unfortunately, the wonderful Rue Cambon store did not have them either, but mentioned that ANOTHER Chanel store on nearby Rue Royale might have them. Off we went, the business card with the serial number of the original glasses clutched in Shelby's hand. The search was not to end well: the glasses were most likely discontinued and nowhere to be found. Not to be put off from purchasing a glamourous self gift, we headed back to Dior.

I would by lying if I said I was not filled to the brim with jealousy as I watched the saleswoman gingerly pack up the sunglasses and then (at my suggestion) wrap the box up further in a Dior gift box complete with a white satin Dior ribbon. Of course, I was less jealous of the price tag, so I let myself feel satisfied watching Shelby daintily carry around her large Dior bag. (I hope this is a moment of relief for my parents!)

Then it was off to real Dior - well, watching people wearing real Dior going into a real Dior Fall/Winter fashion show.

Shelby took this picture - don't let the sunlight fool you, there was a blustering, freezing wind that picked up about every 2 seconds. I just thought my cardigan was too cute to hide under my big Old Navy jacket.

Shelby taking pictures of all the wonderful fashion.

If you don't recognize the face (and I don't mean mine) you are looking at model Karlie Kloss (who unfortunately has lipstick on her teeth.. oops). She is one of my absolute favorites, she's brilliant on the catwalk and completely adorable in real life, and I somehow gathered up the courage in the middle of all the paparazzi to ask her for a photo! Probably one of my geekier moments.

Finally, Shelby was not here when I went to the Chloé show, but I did meet one of my favorite bloggers, Garance Doré. Not the finest picture of me, but when you have to take it yourself you take what you get.

That was probably my last experience with fashion week, but I'm hoping that maybe one day I'll be one of the stylish women going into the tents instead of sitting outside in the frigid cold!

Expect more updates about the best week I've spent in Paris so far. It's amazing how having someone around who adores Paris can invigorate my love for the city where I've been living for 6 months!

"Welcome to France"

2010-02-25T10:57:00.003-06:00

If you asked me to say which country had a worse bureaucracy, France or America, I don't think I'd really be able to tell you. They're both big fans of red tape and bloated payroll. Fortunately, I had avoided the French bureaucracy.. until recently.

You see, for me to legally be here, I'm supposed to have what is called a "carte de sejour." It's a permit that allows me to work (part time) in France and allows me to freely leave and enter the country. When I arrived in France, I sent off paperwork that I received with my visa and waited patiently for my medical appointment, the last remaining piece of the puzzle.

Well, I waited. And waited. One of the directors of my program told us that they were taking longer than usual because they had just changed the law. Okay. Meanwhile, other people in my program were slowly beginning to receive their appointments. Me, nothing. Christmas break comes and goes, and still nothing. At this point, I've already left France and returned without problems, so I'm not too worried, but I still figure I should find out what is going on.

As you may recall, I don't live in Paris proper, departément 75. Because I live in the banlieue (suburb) of Saint Mandé, I'm under the jurisdiction of the 94th departément. My director sends me an email telling me to go to their office, in person, to see what is up. To make a long story short, this office is not really that far from where I live, but Paris does not make it easy to travel from banlieue to banlieue (this is, I believe, on purpose to keep the more... undesirable inhabitants of the banlieues from banding together). Thus, due to a technical error on the line I needed that caused it to shut down, it took me over an hour to get to the banlieue (Châtillon, the last stop on line 13). Once I got off the metro I was pretty turned around. About 20 minutes after that, I found the office. I started to explain my situation to the lady at the desk when she stops me and says, "What department do you live in?" I told her the 94th, to which she promptly shook her head and said, "Oh, they're no longer located here."

Super.

She handed me a sheet of paper with an address, phone number, and email address. I try calling their office several times - no dice. My director ends up sending them an email, and quel miracle! I get my appointment in the mail three days later. I'm assuming that while they were changing offices, they either lost or forgot my file. The fun doesn't end there though!

The day of my appointment arrives, so I head out to Creteil. I get on line 8, which is close to me, and figure it won't take me too long to get there since it's only a handful of stops away. What I forgot was that as lines leave Paris and enter the suburbs, the stops are spaced further and further apart. Strike 1. When I get to the end of the line, it's already 1:50 and my appointment is at 2. In a panic, I try calling the office several times and quel surprise, no answer. Meanwhile I'm waiting for the bus that is supposed to take me to these offices. It shows up at 2. Strike 2.

This is where things get really fun. After a rather long bus ride, I get off at the stop recommended by the office. It's supposed to be a two minute walk away. I can't find the street on the area map by the bus stop, so I just start walking in the direction that I'm hoping is right. An older woman stops me to ask me directions - to the same address I was looking for. We band together and walk up to a nearby group of adolescents to ask them - not only do they have no idea what we're talking about, they're talking to a couple looking for the same address. Now there are 4 of us, and we ask a woman loading her car, and she has no idea either. Strike 3. It is now 2:20, and I'm absolutely freaking out.

A middle-aged woman comes out and overhears us. She explains to us that she had someone ask her the same question yesterday. She starts to give us directions and then says, "I don't know why they would tell you to get off at this stop, it's not even within walking distance. You know what, I'll give you a ride, you'll see."

Just to interject, under most circumstances I would not get into a car with a complete stranger, let alone 4 (if you include the other foreigners). However, I figured that unless it was an elaborate scheme by the French government to get rid of foreigners by telling them to get off at the wrong stop, then to lure them into a nice lady's car only to never be seen again, I thought my odds were pretty good. So along with my band of brothers, we hopped into this kind woman's car and rode off. And indeed, this office was absolutely nowhere near the recommended bus stop. In fact, the office was right next to the terminal stop on the very same bus line.

Awesome.

I walk in and start to explain why I was late but the woman at the desk is unconcerned. She just hands me my file and tells me to sit. A few minutes later, a woman comes in and asks anyone with a white file to follow her - to a different waiting area. A few minutes after that, I get called into a room with a nurse, who takes my measurements, asks me if I'm pregnant (I have to get a chest X-ray, she explains, and they can't do it if I'm pregnant. I tell her that I am, very fortunately, not pregnant), and then tests my vision. She hands me my file back and tells me to go back downstairs. I get into another long line for chest x-rays. The nurse explains what I'm to do, takes my x-ray, gives it to me and tells me to go back upstairs.

I think I'm done. I'm not. I'm told to go around the corner to another waiting area that is absolutely full of people. We're all waiting to see one of 2 doctors. How is this waiting area managed? The doctor comes out and says, "Um, whoever is next." There is no line, there are no numbered tickets, there is no list. Just a room full of people with files and x-rays in hand, all tired of being at this office. You can imagine how this went.

I finally get to see the doctor, he asks me all the usual questions, checks my x-ray. We had a lot of interactions that went like this:

Doctor: (asks me a question in French)

Me: (Answers in French)

Doctor: (furrowed brow, bemused smile, "Did you understand what I just said?")

Me: "Oui."

Doctor: (Repeats the question in shaky English, "yes?")

Me: "....oui."

To be fair, these doctors probably deal with a ton of people everyday who don't understand what he's saying, but people had been asking me this all day, so it was getting old.

The doctor finishes with me, sends me out, and now I only have to wait another hour for some guy to process my papers and put a sticker in my passport. When all was said and done, the whole thing took about 5 hours, transportation time included. People who have lived in France for an extended amount of time all have what they call their "Welcome to France" moment, an interaction with some kind of French institution that basically sums up France. I can say that up until now, my "welcome to France" moments have been minor until this one. Now, however, I have an excellent "Welcome to France" story to tell my grandkids.

In better news, my best friend Shelby is coming for a week! She gets here on Sunday, and I'm so excited to have her here. Hopefully I'll have lots of fun stories after she leaves!

Foreign Objects

2010-02-19T15:38:00.003-06:00

One of the reasons I started this blog was to try and document, in one way or another, my experience as being a foreigner in another country. I hope I've succeeded, at least a little bit, because even though being in France isn't as different for an American as, say, Japan, it's still a jarring experience to leave home. My friend Ladaun, who has been teaching English in Spain for 18 months, found an article online that perfectly describes the whole experience.

Here are some excerpts I like, but please do read the whole thing.

A huge appeal of being abroad:
"Foreignness was a means of escape—physical, psychological and moral. In another country you could flee easy categorisation by your education, your work, your class, your family, your accent, your politics. You could reinvent yourself, if only in your own mind. You were not caught up in the mundanities of the place you inhabited, any more than you wanted to be. You did not vote for the government, its problems were not your problems. You were irresponsible. Irresponsibility might seem to moralists an unsatisfactory condition for an adult, but in practice it can be a huge relief."

"An American child psychologist, Alison Gopnik, when reaching for an analogy to illuminate the world as experienced by a baby, compared it to Paris as experienced for the first time by an adult American: a pageant of novelty, colour, excitement. Reverse the analogy and you see that living in a foreign country can evoke many of the emotions of childhood: novelty, surprise, anxiety, relief, powerlessness, frustration, irresponsibility. It may be this sense of a return to childhood, consciously or not, that gives the pleasure of foreignness its edge of embarrassment. Narcissism may also play a part. While abroad, one imagines being missed by friends and enemies at home."
This is absolutely true, even after only a few months:

"The funny thing is, with the passage of time, something does happen to long-term foreigners which makes them more like real exiles, and they do not like it at all. The homeland which they left behind changes. The culture, the politics and their old friends all change, die, forget them. They come to feel that they are foreigners even when visiting “home”."

Yes. Yes yes yes yes. This ultimately best describes how I feel:

"Beware, then: however well you carry it off, however much you enjoy it, there is a dangerous undertow to being a foreigner, even a genteel foreigner. Somewhere at the back of it all lurks homesickness, which metastasises over time into its incurable variant, nostalgia. And nostalgia has much in common with the Freudian idea of melancholia—a continuing, debilitating sense of loss, somewhere within which lies anger at the thing lost. It is not the possibility of returning home which feeds nostalgia, but the impossibility of it."

I hope this has in some way helped to describe a small part of my experience abroad; please do read the whole article, as it's fascinating in it's own merit. There are two sides to the experience of a foreigner: the childlike fascination, the freedom of reinvention, the excitement of newness; and a feeling of loss, a feeling that you are missing out on something, a fear that you are missing out on the lives of the ones you love. These feelings coexist, constantly ebbing and flowing in a manner that means that while one day I may wake up and embrace Paris and marvel at the fact that I live here, the next day I may wake up miserably homesick. Usually, though, they exist at a sort of equilibrium that makes my experience here enjoyable but with a certain awareness.

No Sorbonne-s About It

2010-02-09T14:11:00.009-06:00

Today was my first day at the fac.

Though I could have started taking classes with the French university system last semester, I chose to wait until this semester to be more secure in my French. The class in question is "Histoire Contemporaine des relations Internationales Les Europe dans la guerre froide (1945-1990) : diplomatie, sécurité et identités" (I suspect most of you can decipher that) and it started at 8 AM. This meant that, to be certain I would arrive on time, I had to get up at 6:30 and leave my apartment by 7 to catch the bus (which, in a stroke of luck, goes straight from my suburb to the school).

It was still dark when I got there, and the doors were not yet unlocked, so I waited patiently as other students began to gather. It was very cold this morning, not at all the mild sunny day that my weather widget predicted, so we just tried to stay warm in the light cast by a nearby streetlamp. The guard opened the doors at about 15 til, and I nervously flashed my student ID and walked into the courtyard.

My class is at Université Paris 1 - Centre Sorbonne. To say that I was excited to be there would be sort of an understatement. I liked the feeling that I was participating in something that essentially goes as far back as the Middle Ages, even if the building doesn't date that far back. By a sheer stroke of luck I wandered into the doors straight ahead and found the auditorium without problem. It is set up in the old style of wooden benches with long wooden desks, and I couldn't really help the feeling of admiration that came over me as I sat down. (Remember, I did once spend a summer studying at Cambridge, so I'm a sucker for this kind of stuff.)

The professor came in and started lecture right away, no introduction, and so I tried to keep up taking notes. It is admittedly harder for me to both take notes and follow along in French, especially at that hour of the morning. Class ended promptly at 9, at which point I went back into the courtyard where it was snowing. Not remotely prepared for snow, and also feeling the lack of sleep, I found a MacDo to grab a cheap coffee and free WiFi.

This is where my luck runs out. At 10, I was due to be in my TD, which stands for travaux dirigés. "TD" is most like "sections" in the US system, where you are in smaller, more discussion based classes run by a TA apart from the "lecture" part of the course taught by the professor. I thought I could get lucky again and find the room all on my own; after wandering around for 10 minutes, I had figured out that I needed to be on the next floor up, but after trying 3 stairways I found nothing but offices.

I opened a door that I thought lead to another stairwell, and found two delivery guys and a security guard. I asked where the classroom was, to which the guard responded, "Vous venez d'où?" I froze. In the program, we all talk about our "good French days" and our "bad French days": "good French days" are days when you are not only capable of properly speaking in French, but the person responds in French; "bad French days" are days where either you can't get words out right or the person responds in English because they pick up on your accent or trouble with expression.

Today was destined to be a "bad French day," either because of my nerves or lack of sleep. I couldn't figure out why he was asking me where I came from - had he heard my accent and wanted to know what country I was from? Did he mean which university? It didn't make sense to me. He asked again quickly, and I still couldn't respond. I just stood, my mouth half open, my brain completely blank as I tried desperately to scrape some kind of French together. By the time I figured out he was asking me where I was coming from, and not where I come from, it was too late. He was exasperated with me and brusquely told me that if I did not know where I was going, that I should go back to the door I came in through and ask that security guard.

On my way back out the door, feeling sheepish and embarrassed, one of the delivery guys looked at me rather sympathetically, and either whispered, "It's difficult sometimes, French," (C'est parfois difficile, le français) or "They're difficult sometimes, the French" (Ils sont parfois difficiles, les français); I couldn't hear him well enough to distinguish exactly what he said, but at the time I agreed with both sentiments, so I just gave him a half smile and nodded.

I finally found the correct stairwell, but not the right hallway, and with only 5 minutes left until the start of class I was beginning to feel nervous and overwhelmed. I asked someone in one of the offices, to which he responded, "C'est quoi comme salle?" (What kind of room is it?) Tired of misunderstanding questions, and not wanting to respond, "Um, the kind with 4 walls," I pulled out my computer and showed him the room assignment. "Ah, Paris I," he replied, which means he wanted to know which université I was a part of, as several of them share the building. Finally I got directions and found the room, but not without bringing a feeling of self-consciousness with me. I was absolutely certain that I stood out to everyone I passed as foreign.

Once I arrived, I felt a brief moment of panic as the class started and I realized that this class is actually a continuation of a class that started last semester. They are, of course, two different classes, but most of the students were already familiar with the teacher, which meant of course that I then had to introduce myself and identify myself as American. Already feeling terribly self conscious, I must have made a rather pathetic sight, as after class the German girl sitting in front of me turned and said, "It's okay, I remember my first day here, it gets better."

I think she must be right.

I may be a blog addict

2010-02-04T12:10:00.001-06:00

I got a Tumblr account. You can follow it here:

http://eiffeltyler.tumblr.com/

I have no intention of writing anything serious there, so keep checking here for real updates. I just got the Tumblr for posting photos, quotes, songs, etc. that I'm feeling but that don't necessarily belong here.

Olive You

2010-02-02T12:50:00.006-06:00

I am not a foodie. My ideal meal pretty much just consists of Chipotle burritos, chips, and guacamole (although I suspect it's because it's the one thing I can't have!).

Any ex-pat worth their weight in camembert will tell you they only shop at the marchés, thank you very much; as for me, I find them terribly intimidating and pretty much only shop at Monoprix, a local supermarket. To be fair, I don't keep a lot of fresh ingredients around my apartment, seeing as I eat dinner with the family nearly every night, so it's mostly just milk, cereal, yogurt, and some basic fruit around here.

My French love is fashion. However, there are more than a few foodies in the program, and I'm thankful they're here because I do love eating good food and drinking great wine - I just don't typically go out of my way to find it. (One such foodie is my friend Ashley - she keeps a blog based on recipes she makes for herself, and having tasted the results before, her recipes are worth a try!)

Last night, Gina, another friend of mine, made reservations for 5 of us to try out a restaurant called La Tête dans les Olives. It was featured at My Little Paris - a favorite amongst the group. The idea of this "restaurant" is pretty genius: La Tête dans les Olives is actually a boutique that sells olive oil and other olive based products run by real Sicilians. Twice a day, once for lunch and once for dinner, it becomes one of the most exclusive joints in town. You have to have a reservation and you can only bring 5 people - not to be elitist, but because literally this boutique only fits 5 people and one table.

You start out with a tasting of all the products the boutique has to offer: olives of all delicious kinds, giant capers, tapenade, the most amazing sun-dried tomatoes I've ever had in my life, and of course, olive oil on fresh baked bread.

Then our waiter/cook/boutique worker/Italian friend Marco brought us a round of veggies: stuffed mushroom caps, white carrots with mint and cheese, seasoned red pumpkin.

We ordered a supplementary seafood platter: fresh seasoned tuna, a kind of tuna jerky (the best way I can describe it) and amazing anchovies - unfortunately, we were all too excited about this plate and I forgot to take a photo before we devoured it.

The main dish was a perfectly cooked pasta with a tomato sauce, a little pesto, eggplant, mint, and ricotta cheese. By now I was pretty stuffed but I finished it anyway - would you leave something this delicious to be thrown away?

We finished with coffee (or a tea made from fennel seeds, for the more adventurous) and almond cookies. The total of this meal was 33euros for each of us - not bad for a personalized experience!

The boutique had a wall of different kinds of olive oil; apparently, like wine, the taste differs depending on where the olives were grown and what they grew up around.

This is a shot from the door to the boutique, to show just how tiny and intimate it was. Perfect!

England vs France

2010-01-23T10:43:00.003-06:00

Having spent time in both France and England, it's always amusing to see the stereotypes they have for one another. This commercial came on today, and it about made me die laughing, right down to the horribly accented French.

The Lone Solde-ier (Louis Louis)

2010-01-21T10:27:00.005-06:00

So, what has been happening in Paris since I've been back?

The soldes!

The French government strictly regulates when stores can have sales and how they can price things - it prevents situations like Walmart in the US, or those annoying "1 Day only!" Macy's sales (seriously, do those things happen EVERY Saturday?!). This means the big guy can't really undercut the little stores by offering significantly lower prices. To be honest, I'm not well read up on the specifics of this. All I know is that from this situation is born one of my favorite French "holidays" - the soldes. "Soldes" in French means "sales" (in case you hadn't picked this up) and they happen twice a year: once at the beginning of January, aka winter soldes; and once around the middle of June, aka summer soldes.

Now, some department stores have "soldes" mid season; there aren't usually a lot of markdowns, if any, but instead promotions, and these usually are only really beneficial for those who have the department store's credit card. The real soldes are huge markdowns, they have a specific start date, and run for about 6 weeks. This is when stores clear out all the merchandise that didn't sell the previous season.

If you have a lot of disposable income, now is the time to shop. I'm talking Givenchy heels for less than 300 euro, Isabel Marant boots 50% off, Chanel bags - well, still kind of outrageous, but less so! I saw so many things that I would have snapped up for next to nothing (compared to the original price) but alas, I am still a poor student. I settled on a dress at H&M for 5 euros, and a tank top at Kookai for 9 euros.

I spotted these lovelies in a French fashion mag this week:

In the words of the infamous Rachel Zoe, "I DIE!" They aren't "en solde" but they are only 250 euros - a steal for Chanel! Can you just imagine prancing around Paris come a rainy springtime day in these babies? To quote Rachel again, I would definitely "Shut. It. Down."

However, confession time! I can't buy anything super expensive in the soldes because I recently brought a new man into my life:

Tada! I asked everyone for money for Christmas, and managed to scrape up just enough for this lovely Louis Vuitton.

Now, to be honest, I was never one for flashy labels - the monogrammed Gucci or Fendi bags, and Coach bags especially. There was a time in high school where I was enamoured with the multicolored monogram Louis Vuitton. Unfortunately, so was the rest of the world, which resulted in a flood of fakes my senior year, after which I just completely lost taste for the label due to overexposure.

Then I got to Paris, and nearly everyday I saw at least one chic French lady with her perfectly beat up and beautifully aged Louis Vuitton. I liked to imagine that perhaps it had been a gift from her mother on a special occasion, or maybe her first big purchase. Finally, j'ai craqué (literally, "I cracked" - the French have such wonderful terms! It translates best into English as, "I fell for it." You can also use it to mean you have a crush on someone, or that you couldn't resist any longer - as in buying something, or eating cake when you're on a diet.)

So while I may not be prancing around Paris in some super chic rainboots, I have invested in my first "serious" designer purchase, and definitely have a little spring in my Parisian step.

La Rentrée

2010-01-14T10:58:00.005-06:00

In France, "la rentrée" means "the return" and is usually used in reference to the period of time at the end of August/beginning of September when all of France returns from vacation and school starts back up.

For me, it means that after spending a little over 3 wonderful weeks home, I'm back in Paris.

First of all, let me just say that if I did not get the chance to see you while I was home, I'm really sorry. There were a lot of people I wanted to see, or even just to see more of, but I was a pretty busy bee.

I'm not thrilled to be back. That isn't what people want to hear - they want to hear that it was great to be home, but it's equally great to be in Paris. Don't get me wrong, I adore Paris, I am so grateful to have this opportunity, but while Paris is full of wonderful things, it is missing the ones I love. It is very hard to have passed such an amazing vacation at home - Christmas with my family, going out to the lakehouse with Sean, visiting old friends - and then face coming back to three months without them.

In addition, Paris in winter is still beautiful, but it's a sad kind of beauty. Everything is gray, a little darker and a little more somber. It is beautiful in the way a sad song or a sad movie is beautiful; it is cold and bittersweet. I'm excited for spring to come, to say the least.

The weirdest part was that upon my return stateside, I immediately felt a sense that I had never really left; yet when I got back to my apartment in Paris, it felt like I dreamed my vacation. I guess it means that I'm essentially living two lives. My Parisienne life is totally different: I live completely on my own, I put more effort into getting dressed, I feel a little bit cooler striding through the metro with my headphones on, I speak a language that isn't my own. My American life, however, is obviously much more familiar. I found while home that I am definitely made for Southern living. As cool as I feel with my Parisienne attitude, I like smiling at strangers, chatting up people in line, a certain politeness that defines the region. As much as I like trying to dress more fashionably, I like knowing that, if I just want to run to Target with wet hair, no makeup, and a sweatshirt, I can. As much as I like the ease and responsibility of public transportation, I like the freedom of the road.

So, just over 4 months in, I already know I have gained a lot. I have faced a huge challenge - living in a foreign city completely alone - and done well for myself. I have left a very important relationship and returned to find it exactly as I left it: completely perfect. I know now that, as much as I love city living and the French, I could not live here forever.

I can say that, even though I'm still a little sad to be back, I would not trade this experience for anything. I just have to wait out this winter and I'll be rewarded with spring.

PS - This blog is hilarious; a little exaggerated but completely true.

Florida - so beautiful!

Birmingham - actually colder than Paris, but the sun made it more pleasant.

Snow - legit snow!

The garden in snow.

'Tis the season

2009-12-15T13:25:00.005-06:00

Well, tonight is officially my last night in Paris until the new year. I'm excited. I got all my Christmas shopping done - I went to Galeries Lafayette and Printemps last Saturday. Um, bit of a mistake on my part. You see, those are the two BIG department stores on Boulevard Haussmann, and like Macy's in New York or Harrod's in London, they're big tourist stops as well as shopping destinations. So to go there on a Saturday before Christmas - I was there for a long time, let's just put it that way, and I got shoved around a lot.

Right now, like the big New York department stores, they're decorated for Christmas. Printemps, whose theme this year is a Russian Christmas, was of particular interest to me because their windows were designed by Christian Dior and Chanel - too adorable! Unfortunately, also too crowded! Man if I was ever going to get pickpocked, it was there.. so insane. I took pictures and got out of there pretty quick.

Galeries Lafayette's theme this year is Noel Gourmand. They have gorgeous lights on the outside of the building, and a giant tree inside. Pretty amazing. Also, having worked in retail, I can tell you that I think I would sooner work for Walmart than work there at Christmastime - I have never seen such a crowd of shoppers in my life. Of course, I would put up with anything to handle those labels - Dior! Chanel! Louis Vuitton! - so maybe I'm just a big liar.

I posted my pictures here, because I took a lot around Paris.

And now, I'm packed, everything is crossed off my to do list before I leave, and when I wake up tomorrow I'll be catching a taxi and heading to the airport. I. am. so. excited! I don't think it was real to me until I plugged in my American cell phone tonight to charge up - I actually teared up. A weird reaction, but I think it's the only thing I brought with me that I literally just shoved in my closet very shortly after getting here. It's a link to America that has stayed turned off and hidden, so to be charging it up and turning it on is exciting! I even got the little chirp saying I got a text message! It was from T-Mobile. Disappointing. But still, I am so very ready to come home!

Besides seeing everyone again (I've missed you all so much!) I think the thing I'm most excited for is a warm Florida Christmas. Blasphemy, I know. The thing is, I used to think I was the kind of girl who wanted to live somewhere where it gets really cold at Christmas. I love layering, sweaters, hot tea, etc. But when push comes to shove - ie, when the predicted high for the week is 0 degrees Celsius (and for those who don't remember middle school science, that's 32 degrees F) - well, it turns out I'm just not so much a big fan. I have to walk anywhere I want to go, which was pleasant until it turned rainy and cold in November.

Paris did a funny thing though, around last Saturday. It's been really gorgeous out - blue skies, few clouds. Of course, it's also been, quite literally, freezing. It almost makes me sort of sorry to leave. Almost.

But then I think of the sunny Florida Christmas waiting for me, with my Bear and my family and my friends, and I think, "Peace out Paris! See you next year!"

Spice up your day? No thanks.

2009-12-08T12:22:00.005-06:00

A quick little story to share with everyone:

Saturday night, as I was heading home from watching what I can only call a disappointing game, I found myself at metro Chatelet. Logical, as that's where I change from line 4 to line 1 to get home.

I had made a buddy, a UF graduate on vacation in Paris, and as he and I were heading in the same direction, I let him hop on the metro with me on my pass (a no-no, but anything for a fellow Gator Nation citizen). We were waiting for the metro when we noticed a ruckus. I figure, nothing new, French people love to fight in public, especially lover's quarrels. (They love making up in public too, but that is for another time.)

I'm so used to it that really, I didn't even try to listen and figure out what was going on. I saw a young guy and a young girl, maybe late teens/early 20s, and their possés hanging around and shouting. Other people were actually staring, which I did find unusual because most French people tend to ignore each other in public. I decided to look closer, and boy is it good I did. I looked just in time to catch the girl slapping the guy, and THEN the guy slapped the girl - twice, for good measure. I was sorry at this point I hadn't been paying attention; I didn't know if they were a couple, friends, two random people who happened to cross on the metro, or what. I was trying to suss out what was going on through the chaos when suddenly, everyone within radius of them is covering their mouths and walking away, and the possé is making a break for it. Why?

That did not take me or my new pal long to find out. My eyes started burning and tearing up, and I started coughing (a feeling I recognized thanks to a certain cousin on a certain Christmas morning with a certain unidentifiable gift...). I look over at him, and he just starts laughing - "Is that pepper spray?" It sure was. Using my super sleuthing French skills, I asked a man next to me what happened. "I don't really know," he said, "but it was the guy that sprayed it!" I tried to reassure my tourist friend that, honestly, this isn't something that happens all the time, but I think we were just more amused about it than anything. The train came shortly thereafter, bringing fresh air (well, okay, fresher than the pepper spray) and we were saved.

Talk about adding insult to injury, though.

How to be French: Strike Out

2009-12-06T07:15:00.004-06:00

Though feeling rather sad about yesterday's loss (watched it in a bar called The Great Canadian with a few random Americans - one former Gator - that I met there), I figured I could still share a secret about French life with you: The Art of the Strike.

There are two parts of this: the grève, where people don't go into work, and the manif, short for manifestation, where groups of people have demonstrations in the street. (I see them rather frequently around Boulevard de Montparnasse and Boulevard Raspail, because they are big streets in a very visible area.)

An important thing to know: not everyone can go on strike. Bummer, right? The two groups of people who are not given the right to go on strike, by law, are the army and the police (for probably very obvious reasons). Nicolas Sarkozy also put into law limits for the workers of the public transportation units, in hopes that those particular strikes wouldn't be so crippling. They still manage to be pretty awful, but ideally they don't shut down the entire city.

Other than that though, everyone here is guaranteed by law the right to strike. And they use it. You can have a grève without a manif, but they go together a lot. There are lots of good reasons to have a manif:

The government is threatening to make you work 35 and a half hours a week
You aren't happy with your work conditions
You don't like dogs in the city
You don't like smoking in public places
You don't like people not liking smoking in public places
You want citizenship (this is a very serious issue in France, with many sans papiers wanting rights)
You want to have a big party
You're homosexual (gay rights parades, essentially)

Not to entirely make light of the French manifs, because a lot of the time they are about very serious issues. But sometimes it seems like they're having a big party, they're all smiling and chanting together. It's the French pasttime, like baseball in America; nothing better to do on a Saturday, manif!

In the past week, I have seen 3 manifs, two on the same day: one for the education system, to protest job cuts; one for the postal system, because they are threatening to privatize; and one for the sans papiers. Also currently on strike are the workers of the French museums; tough tacos for tourists here. Sites that closed include the Louvre, Versailles, the Musée d'Orsay, Arc de Triomphe, and the Centre Pompidou which has been closed for over a week now.

I took some videos at the manif for the postal system:

P1000583.MOV

P1000584.MOV

I can't understand the first one because of the loudspeaker, but the second one the chant goes like this: "Privatisation, non non non! Ça laisse publique? Oui Oui Oui!" It was stuck in my head the rest of the day.

To have a proper manif, the special police force called the Gendarmerie will show up. They're usually just there to make sure nothing goes awry, equipped with things like tear gas to control crowds, should there be a need. There usually isn't, but if you see them on the move, you should probably get out of the area.

This is just one of the lines of gendarmerie that were waiting nearby the postal/education manif - it was pretty colossal in size.

This is the Tour Montparnasse, where many manifs that I've seen come through. Like I said, a big and visible intersection.

Overall, the right to strike is a right the French take very seriously. At the slightest whisper of government intervention in their rights, BAM, strike. It just isn't something you see on the same scale in America.

But now you know!

Cutting up

2009-12-02T15:14:00.004-06:00

Sorry for the lack of updates! In the middle of wrapping up classes and getting ready to come home - just two weeks away!

I had a really cool experience today that I wanted to share, though, before I get back into the study grind. The last time I had a haircut was in August before I left, and let's just say my hair was looking a little rough around the edges - literally. I'm just really picky about my hair, what can I say? But two girls in the program had gone to this place called La Nouvelle Athènes, this really cool salon in the 9th arrondissement. It's definitely different than any salon I've been to in the US - you can see pictures on their website.

What makes this salon different is the method they use to cut your hair. You don't come in with a photo of a celebrity and say, "Make me look like this," (though I'm sure you could). Instead, you come in, and the stylist sits you in front of a mirror. She then analyzes everything - your body, your face shape, your facial features - and tells you what she thinks would work for you. For example, the first thing she told me was that my trapezius muscle s protrude - she asked me if I did sports, to which I replied, "No, I can thank my Dad for that I think." (Thanks Dad!) She pulled my hair out of my face, which is apparently oval, and said that thanks to the aforementioned protruding muscles, long hair really suits me (this was excellent news) but that I needed to lighten it up because it was too heavy. I also have a forehead that is slightly bigger than it would be if ideally proportioned (not "huge" she told me, also a relief) so that I needed bangs. She analyzed the crown of my head to see which way my hair falls naturally so that I wouldn't have to worry about styling it every morning (for interested parties, it falls slightly to the right). Essentially, it was a very similar cut to what I already had, just finessed to be more flattering and less like a curtain of hair.

Then she cuts your hair. Another aspect that is very different is that they cut hair dry instead of wet - it took her about an hour to do my whole head. She took her time, cutting very small areas at a time with scissors, very intricate process. This way they can see as they go how it flatters your face, instead of just cutting and hoping at the end it looks okay. Then at the end you get the shampooing - and a head massage, which nearly put me to sleep it was so good.

After the shampooing, they blow dry you and make sure everything looks right, make a few final snips, and voila - what they call a "re-looking" (which is hilarious, because it's obviously an English term and this woman spoke only French to me, but she loves doing the "re-looking" - French people have really started to appropriate random English phrases). I was really pleased with the whole process - definitely nervous, because you have to trust that these people know what they're doing and that you'll look good in the end. The fact that I got to keep my length was reassuring, and the stuff she did around the face is definitely more flattering than what I had before.

The cost for a personalized haircut? 70 euros. Okay, a little insane, perhaps. But totally worth it? Absolutely. You don't leave looking like Blake Lively - you leave looking like you, only better than you did when you came in. They do coloring as well, but I wasn't in the market for that. I can say that it was overall a really cool experience, from going to a Parisien salon to getting a different kind of haircut, and I think I'll be going back.

Two thumbs up, if you can find a similar salon near you!

The Year without a Thanksgiving

2009-11-25T05:11:00.004-06:00

Well friends, tomorrow is the American holiday of Thanksgiving. Family, football, amazing food. You know who doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving?

Well, everyone except America. I guess it's that whole "pilgrim/Indian" thing we had going on. It's sort of bizarre; people here have started decorating for Christmas already, but I don't have the holiday between Halloween and Christmas to get a mark on time. Usually, the day after Thanksgiving is when I start getting excited about Christmas, putting together lists, shopping (NOT on Black Friday though - I'm not crazy). As this year I won't be in Florida until the 20th, I have already completed most of my shopping either online or here, which is kind of a bummer cause I love coming home with shopping bags full of gifts.

It's kind of crazy to think about; this time last year I was gearing up to work the 3AM-noon shift on Black Friday. Now I'm in Paris, where I don't get the day off for Thanksgiving. Bummer. But, the group is planning a Thanksgiving dinner with the professor couple we went to Bourgogne with (she's European, he's American - too adorable!). I'm attempting to make my mom's potatoes for the dinner, so hopefully that goes well. I just wish someone could send me some of Uncle Bill's smoked turkey and some of Aunt Janice's pumpkin pie - that would be amazing!

In a short and unrelated story, they've started work on my building today. Ours is apparently the only one on the block that hasn't been cleaned/repainted in a really long time, so they (they being the owners of the apartments) finally decided to have the work done. This morning they built up one of those trusses - is that what they're called? - anyway, one of those things that climbs up the side of the building so they can clean each stage. I opened my curtains this morning and there was a dude outside my window; this is strange when you consider that I live on the 2nd floor (3rd American). So I closed my volets. It feels weird to live here with the volets closed, because I thought they were for people who lived on the first or second floors to keep people out (see: voler). Apparently, they're for keeping light out. Man, do they do a good job! I closed the ones in my bedroom already because it's been storming here a bit, and the wind was making them beat against the wall at night. This morning I woke up and I had no idea what time it was. If you guys thought I lived in a bear cave before, you ain't seen nothing!

Oh, and this Thanksgiving (even though I won't be celebrating officially) I am thankful for all of you! <3 Happy Thanksgiving!

Quick update!

2009-11-18T12:07:00.005-06:00

Here's a quick little photo I took of an Xbox 360 ad in the metro that made me happy.. see if you can pick out why...

That happy and excited young gentleman appears to be wearing a Florida Gators letterman's jacket, doesn't he? I think that's exactly what it is, considering the accuracy of the girl's Roxy hoodie. What did I tell you guys about the Gator Nation? It's everywhere!

Well hello.

Yes, I know, I've been neglecting the blog, I'm sorry. I just let the past week get away from me really. But, today is the official 4 week mark to my flight home! So excited. You might be asking, why is Tyler excited to come home? She's in Paris! Besides the obvious boyfriend/family/friends answer, I am also excited about:

Mexican food! You cannot find good Mexican or southwestern food here. My first big meal back is going to be a Triple Lindy from Moe's, and my second is going to be a burrito bowl from Chipotle. Yum!
Target! I think I could probably spend an entire day there just wandering the aisles contentedly. Plus, Rodarte will have their capsule collection there!
Driving! This is only half true, because I do actually love taking the metro, but there is something to be said to having the freedom of driving.
American pop culture! I am going to EAT IT UP. The last pop culture thing I heard about was the Kanye West/Taylor Swiftgate at the VMAs. I don't even know which Jonas brother Miley Cyrus is dating or what wacky shenanigans Britney Spears has gotten herself into - how have I survived?!
American tv! The only American shows that air over here are things like Desperate Housewives and Gray's Anatomy and I kind of hate both of those shows. Plus, they're dubbed in French. I'm talking Bravo! Oh Rachel Zoe, please be in infinite re-runs!
Bbq. Okay it should be ridiculous that food things make this list, but honestly sometimes you just want delish barbeque as only the south can do it.
American shopping malls! Paris shopping obviously can't be beat, but there again is something to be said for the American convenience of having everything in once indoor place. Plus, Banana Republic! Oh I missed you!
College football! I don't even like bowl games, but since I don't leave until January 9th, I am hoping to see a certain orange and blue clad team lead the way to another national title...
American currency! I love me some Euro but man is the exchange rate killing me. It's going to feel like everything is so cheap to me! (Helllooo Chanel! Just kidding, not that cheap!)
My lakehouse! I'm definitely going out there at least once during break.

Anyway, just a few things I've been thinking about. Again, I'm obviously really excited to see everyone, and for Christmas, my most favorite of holidays (isn't it everyone's?). So the final countdown is on! Get ready America!

(hypo)Critical

2009-11-10T04:32:00.006-06:00

Okay, so maybe I wasn't offended by the idea of a Macdo in the Louvre.

I am, however, deeply offended by the idea of an Abercrombie and Fitch on the Champs Elysees.

When I first heard the news, I was pretty indignant about it. Abercrombie and Fitch? In Paris? The idea seemed so insulting to me. When I think Abercrombie and Fitch, I think of the popular kid's uniform in middle school and high school that consisted mostly of Abercrombie and Fitch, Hollister, and American Eagle. I think of stupid graphic t-shirts that basically just say "Do me," without actually being that direct. I think of pornographically short ripped up denim skirts worn with lacy tank tops and Ugg boots. I think of frat boys in pink polos with popped collars.

Basically, I don't think of fashion.

For me, Paris represents a level of sophistication; it's women who know that you don't have to buy tons of labels to look good, they know it's just about the attitude. It's about men who dress sharply everyday to go to work. It's about reading Vogue and wearing heels and sophistication. It's the birthplace of Chanel for crying out loud! What about Abercrombie and Fitch says, "Sophistication," to you?

Okay, fine, I'm being harsh. First, having lived here, I know that not all French people dressed sophisticated, it's just an image I like to keep in my head. Second, I have seen a lot of A&F - in a typically American import, cool teens prance around Paris in their A&F furry hoodies that I imagine they (or a family member) bought on vacation to the states. The difference is this time, when the cool teen in the A&F hoodie gives me a disparaging look, I can just shove them down the metro steps. (Kidding! Only kidding!)

Also, in another concession, the Champs-Elysees has become essentially just a tourist destination, so it's not like a super chic shopping stop (even if the real estate says otherwise). It's not like they're setting up camp on say, Avenue Montaigne. Still, you could probably put a Macdo AND a Starbuck's next to the Mona Lisa and I wouldn't be as affronted as I am about this idea of an Abercrombie and Fitch invasion.

For now, I'm just going to keep it cool, shrug it off, and be thankful it's not a Walmart (Target, however...). I'm going to keep shopping Zara and H&M to try and keep up with this stylish city, and hope that Abercrombie and Fitch stays where it belongs - with the teens.

If I see a Sophisticated French Woman prancing around in Ugg boots, ripped up denim skirt, and a shirt that basically says, "I'm Easy," though, I might just lose my mind.

J'adore...

2009-11-07T13:01:00.006-06:00

I went shopping at Dior today.

Don't worry Mom and Dad, I didn't blow my student loan money on a Lady Dior bag - I wish! No, I just bought mascara. Though to be honest, I probably shouldn't refer to it as just mascara when it cost 29 euros - especially when you consider that I could have bought it at Sephora for 26 euros, or in the states for 26 dollars - but I was out of mascara, and DiorShow is the best. So I decided to waltz over to Avenue Montaigne, marched into Dior (where a man opens the door for you, like in all the boutiques), and asked the nice sales lady for one DiorShow mascara, in brown.

It was a divine experience; I learned from the family that I work for that all French people think all Americans are rich (if only, right?). I'm sure this salesgirl did not think that of me, in my Old Navy trench coat and beat up Steve Madden flats, but she sure did do her best to spoil me. "Is that all? Would you like anything else? Can I spritz you with some of our new perfume? Can I put some of our lipstick on you?" I wanted to say, "I know you probably make mad commission, but unfortunately it's a lost cause with me." We did however carry on the whole transaction in French, which is exciting as I had just heard her speaking English to an American couple.

She gave me my sales slip and led me to the counter. You see, in a swanky joint like Dior, they don't ring up your items. There's a desk where rich foreigners hand over their credit cards to pay for their sales slip - a piece of paper where they've attached the barcodes for each of your items. I only had one barcode, and I paid in cash (I was really good with my budget this week), but I still felt ritzy. While you're paying, the salesgirls are busy bees wrapping up your purchases and putting them in lovely bags. You come back with your receipt, and the girl hands over your bag(s).

While standing and waiting for service, I couldn't help but notice the women who were shopping - an obnoxious American couple, who wore their sunglasses inside at 6 at night, complete with Uggs; and another woman, French I think, who literally just sat there pointing at the makeup case saying, "Oh what is that? I'll take that," to about 10 different products without trying them. It was impressive.

Before I left, the very nice salesgirl who had helped me slipped me 2 samples of Dior perfume and said thank you about 50 times. Leaving the Dior boutique, bag in hand, saying "Merci," to the man who opens the door, I felt amazing. It was an amazing high; even though all I had bought was a tube of mascara, I had walked into a high end store, and I was leaving with something in hand. More motivation. Maybe next time, Lady Dior.

It's tiny, but the bag is embossed.

They slip your receipt into a card holder-esque thing.

This is my receipt - Dior, Avenue Montaigne; it's not even a receipt, it's a piece of paper on which they've printed a photo of the store. Love it.

It's not like I don't already own nice things; this was just my first experience shopping in a designer boutique as opposed to say, Nordstrom's or Sak's. And I have to say, it was amazing. Now I just have to find a job to match!

The break before the break

2009-11-01T12:29:00.005-06:00

This past week, the children had their fall break from school. This freed up my life in a most supremely awesome way. I went to museum exhibits, I got school work done, I had drinks with my friends after class.

The past 24 hours or so though, have been some of the best so far in Paris.

Yesterday, I woke up to a text from my friend Clare suggesting that we hit up the Japanese quarter for lunch. If you know me, you know I'm a sucker for some good Japanese food, so we met up and had a tasty Japanese curry. Then we went wandering around the Etienne Marcel neighborhood, got a coffee, and then I came home to do some schoolwork.

My friend Robert's mom was in town, and seeing as they are both former Georgia Bulldogs (we can't all be perfect) I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to find a place that would be playing the game here in Paris. Robert and his mom very kindly invited me to dinner at a really great restaurant in the 11th, and Robert's mom even paid for my dinner despite my (many) protests; she was super sweet. We headed to the bar just in time for the second half of the game and to watch the Dawgs lose. It was so awesome, I've been really homesick for college football, and on top of that there was another former Gator in the bar! We yelled together, we high fived each other, I even did the Gator chomp.. in a bar in Paris. I actually forgot I was in Paris, it was so much fun to feel close to home again. Nothing like being there, but I'll take Tebow any way I can! It ended up being a really perfect and really fun day.

This morning, Clare suggested we head back to the restaurant that has a fresh oyster bar; I'm always up for trying new things so we went, and got there in time to grab some oysters fresh from that morning's catch. Not going to lie - the idea of eating raw, essentially still living oysters freaked me out, but I put my big girl pants on, squeezed a little lemon, and sucked it down. I have to say, I'm a fan. It tastes like the sea, which in a weird way reminds me of home. We shared an awesome bottle of wine, ate oysters, got a little buzzed (which, on a Sunday afternoon, is supremely luxurious) and just over all felt really nice. Catching up with a friend, drinking wine, meeting new people, trying new things: this is all what I hoped Paris would be. The cool thing about this restaurant is that it's packed all the time, so there aren't tables (well, not many). Instead, there are big barrels or bar tables that you stand around with other people.

So fresh!

I tried to take a picture of the whole table but I couldn't get backed up enough; I think you can get the idea though.

Anyway, overall definitely one of the best weekends I've had since being here. This week is my fall break, and even though I won't be leaving Paris, I think I'm still going to have a great time. Here are a few random photos to share with you guys from the last week:

This is the Passage of Hell.. it actually looked like a nice little residential alley, but the name cracked me up.

Okay, the sign is a dog peeing.. I've never seen this before, it was pretty funny. There's a little area of gravel where you're supposed to take your dog to do his business; I didn't entirely understand why, because this was in the suburbs where there's a lot of green space. Plus I really doubt anyone bothers with that.

I was at the Jeu de Paume museum to see the Fellini exhibit, and as I was leaving I saw this view - no way I wasn't going to take a picture! Now that November has come, so has the cold and rain, but that was just so picture perfect.

Dingue! (crazy)

2009-10-27T13:59:00.003-05:00

Today, in history class, we were talking about the events of May '68 and Charles de Gaulle, when we read a text in which de Gaulle dissolves l'Assemblée Nationale. Turns out, under the 5th Republic, the president has the right to dissolve the National Assembly. It sort of works like a reset button: they don't do what he wants, they get dissolved and the president calls for a new election.

How crazy is that? Just imagine, Obama wakes up tomorrow, goes to Congress, and says to the entire House of Representatives, "Hey guys, nice work and all, but bad news, you're kind of fired. You can go home now."

Of course, the risk with this is that the people elect the same people or worse, a majority of the opposing party. Luckily for Charles de Gaulle, he was a pretty popular dude so people just did what he said. I'd really love to be here if Nicolas Sarkozy tried the same thing; he is the opposite of a popular dude, and I'm pretty sure the people would not stand for it.

Another fun fact about the Fifth Republic: the president is voted by universal suffrage. It's a multi-party system here, so it works as follows:

"The president is now elected every five years, changed from seven by a constitutional referendum in 2000, to reduce the probability of cohabitation due to former differences in the length of terms for the National Assembly and Presidency. The first round is open to all candidates and will establish a president if any candidate gets an overall majority. If there is no winner in the first round, the two candidates with the greatest number of votes go to a second round."

When our history teacher told us that, we went, "Oh, like us." His reply was, "Um, no." They don't bother with Electoral college shenanigans, it's a direct vote from the people. That means that France probably doesn't have to worry about terms like, oh I don't know, "hanging chads" or "red state/blue state." To be honest, it sounds like a pretty nice system - the candidate who gets the majority vote, wins. I don't know that something like a multi-party system could ever work in America, but it does provide a lot of options. (Yes, Dad, I can hear you - "Those socialists!")

In a final, but very funny French note, our professor was explaining to us why the movement of May '68 failed, and in the end he said, "And of course, the biggest and most important factor: summer vacation." There were strikes in the university system here last year, and he explained to us that his colleagues made sure they took a break from striking during their spring break. Gotta love the French tradition of taking holiday.

Metro Games: Beat the buzzer

2009-10-26T15:42:00.005-05:00

It's any given day and you're just strolling through the metro. Maybe you're on the way to class, or just out for some shopping. You hit the bottom of the stairs and that's when you realize:

The train is already in the station, people have already boarded, and the warning buzzer is sounding.

At this point you have two options: stay calm and say, "Hey, self, there's another train coming. I'll just hang out on the quai and relax." Or you could do what most people do, freak out, and make a mad dash for the train. This goes a little something like this: you realize that the train is going to leave. Either you can hear the buzzer from the bottom of the steps, or you see the people in front of you break into a run. You yourself break into a mad dash, sprint towards the nearest open door, and mere feet away, literally throw yourself onto the train with a bounding leap, not particularly caring if you knock people over in the process.

If you're lucky, you make it. The doors shut behind you and you can't help but smile and congratulate yourself before taking a seat. I personally like to do a little fist pump. For those 10, 20 seconds of your life, you're a champion: you're Michael Phelps at the Olympics, you're Tim Tebow breaking the defense for a(nother) running touchdown.

Here are some tips for your Moment of Glory:

Know when to run and when to fold. Some metro drivers are nicer than others, and they'll wait because they see you running. This only happens in empty stations. If you're in, say, Chatelet, forget it. Only run if you think you can make it. Otherwise, the doors slam shut in your face and you look like an idiot. Better to play it cool.
Make sure your belongings are secure. There is no worse feeling than hearing the doors shut behind you, turning around, and seeing your cell phone on the quai. Oops.
Ladies, make sure if you have purses or shopping bags, they're in front of you. I saw a woman get her purse shut in the door once, and we drove off like that. Hope it wasn't a Chanel.
Try not to slam into people. You get nasty looks (see previous post about French attitude).
Don't do this if you're with people. Chances are your friend will get left behind (probably talking to a homeless man who is trying to sell you a used dog toy - true story...love you Mac!).
Finally, know when to accept defeat. This guy isn't kidding:

My friend Mackenzie jumped a train once and got absolutely owned by it. The doors shut with her arms in it and she definitely was a recipient of a pincer très fort. Plus the metro driver yelled at her when she got off. Pas bon.

All in all though, definitely one of the more thrilling aspects of riding the metro. Plus, you don't lose points for celebrating!

How to be French: Rights and Wrongs

2009-10-24T05:58:00.003-05:00

As I have been here for nearly two months now, trying rather desperately to blend in, I've spent a lot of time trying to crack the code on the secrets of How to be French. I think I'm starting to get the hang of things, so I figured I can start passing some along to you.

Lesson One: Attitude.

The French have a saying: "J'ai le droit." (The kids I babysit loooove to say this to me when I tell them they can't do something.) "J'ai le droit" translates to "I have the right." When the kids say it to me, it reminds me of the American saying, "It's a free country!" The French are big on rights (see: French Revolution, last 200 years of French history, etc), so they will pretty much do what they want when they want.

Examples? Sure thing!

- Yes, I'm going to drive my motorcycle in between cars, on the sidewalk, or between the crosswalk, because, hey, I didn't buy this thing to sit in traffic with the rest of you suckers!

- I'm going to cross the street even though the little man is Red, because that thing doesn't really know when there are no cars coming, and I'm important and in a hurry. In fact, I'm not even going to cross at the crosswalk, the store I'm going to is right there, so I'm just going to dash across the street in traffic. They'll stop for me.

- My dog is absolutely going to come everywhere with me, whether I'm going shopping or to a restaurant, because he's my dog. I mean, what do you want me to do, leave him at home? And you can forget about me cleaning up after him on the sidewalk, you're not blind, you can walk around it.

- Yes, I realize that the buzzing sound on the metro means the doors are closing, but that just means I have a few seconds to make a mad dash and throw myself onto all the people on the train! I can make it! I'm important, I've got places to go, and hey, you people were taking up too much space anyway. (extra points to the woman who shoved her baby stroller between the doors once so the driver had no choice but to let her get on. I promise you, this happened.)

These are just a few everyday examples of how French people exercise their right to do what they want. And if someone questions you? You argue, politely. It might go a little something like this:

Waiter: "I'm really sorry ma'am, but your dog is too big to be in here, but you're welcome to sit on the patio."

Madame: "But he's not bothering anyone, and besides, Toulouse doesn't like being outside."

Waiter: "I'm sorry ma'am, that's just what has to happen."

Madame: "I don't understand, I come here all the time with Toulouse."

Waiter: "Yes ma'am, but today we are pretty busy and he's getting in the way."

Madame: grumbles, mumbles, getting up, "Toulouse really does not like sitting outside, it's much too cold for him, this is ridiculous."

But, in the end, she will just look as put out as possible for the rest of the meal, sitting outside with her perfectly happy dog. French people will argue until the very last second, politely (most of the time), but in the end they usually will accept defeat in certain situations.

The final key to being French is looking as put out as possible at the most minor situations. Even the nicest French people you know are perfectly capable of doing this when in public. Tut-ing is always a nice touch. Looking put out is acceptable when:

The teenager on the metro doesn't give up his seat for the elderly woman
The guy with a giant backpack gets too close to hitting you
The woman with her dog doesn't move her dog out of the only remaining seat
Anyone sneezes (swine flu!)
People are taking up too much room on the sidewalk
Someone asks a salesgirl for help (you want her to work?)
Someone asks anyone in any service for anything extra
Someone is trying to break a 50 bill, or doesn't have exact change

As you can see, the opportunities to look put out are endless! French people in private life are not like this, it's just a key to being French in public. Just one easy step you can take to be a little more French every day!

Heaven IS a place on Earth

2009-10-19T12:30:00.005-05:00

Great news guys! I found Paradise.

It's a little place called Le Bon Marché. All the names I love... Chanel, Dior, Chloé, Marc Jacobs, Isabel Marant.

And zeros as far as the eye can see. As in, a digit followed by at least 2 zeros, probably more. Definitely more Euros than I will ever see in my life. And it was one of those stores where they only have one of each item hanging on the sparse racks, so you can better admire the craftsmanship and you have to ask for your size.

Let me just tell you though, I used to be one of those people who was like, "Who needs to spend $900 on shoes? You can get a cute pair at Nine West and there is no difference."

Having touched what I can only describe as the shoes of the gods I am here to tell you that there is absolutely a difference. I picked up my favorite pair of Chloé shoes of the season, and the difference between those flats and my Nine West flats was the difference between McDonald's and a fine filet mignon. My Nine West flats are pretty and satisfying, but an hour later I'm hungry again. It makes me want to eat nothing but fine dining the rest of my life, you know what I mean?

And these Isabel Marant boots? Forget it. Love at first touch.

Walking through this department store was Vogue come to life. It smelled like Chanel no5 and money. I liked it. Of course, in my Old Navy skirt and Zara coat I think I stuck out a little bit, but I don't even care. Yea, I got ignored by the shop girls, with their perfect disheveled French girl hair, their perfectly French makeup and their all black outfits. But it's okay because I have..

a New Life Goal.

I've already mentioned this, but I'd like to walk into a department store, all marble and gilded staircases, and have those salesgirls tripping over themselves to get to me. 'Cause man, am I gonna drop some serious cash. And I'm not talking about someone else's money, I'm talking about my own. No more working retail for me - only dropping my hard earned cash there.

In other news, I saw this window in an expensive shop (I think it was Loewe) on Avenue Montaigne... thought it was appropriate.

All I'm sayin' is that, if you ain't a Gator, you're Gator bait!

Chomp chomp!

Sad but true

2009-10-15T14:59:00.003-05:00

Even though I love the metro, sometimes it's a little irritating to take public transport.

Take today, for example.

I was already a little late for class, but thankfully, I saw the train had just stopped and was letting off all the passengers. I ran to make the doors as I usually do, and realized once I got on the train that it was weirdly empty. The conductor wasn't even on the train anymore. It wasn't until I sat down and noticed the train wasn't on that I realized what was happening.

The traffic was interrupted.

This can happen for a number of reasons (more on that later) but today all that interested me was was this train going to move? Answer: no. So I had a little bit of a panic. As I've previously explained, I don't live in Paris proper, so the next metro stop from where I lived that wasn't on this particular line was a 20 minute walk away. I exited the metro and found a Velib station. I quickly reconsidered that, as I haven't been on a bike in like, 10 years, and being hit by a car today wasn't really an option. So I pretty much just had to walk two metro stations along the line to connect with another line that I knew ran by my school.

This isn't uncommon, though it is the first time it's happened to me. If traffic is interrupted, most stations have TVs that broadcast (and by broadcast I mean put up powerpoint slides) that traffic is interrupted on blank line, or was interrupted on blank line at blank time but has finished. It usually gives a reason for the interruption. If someone leaves a suitcase or a bag in the metro, often times traffic will be interrupted for security reasons. There could be an electrical fire, which happens fairly often. But the worst reason is this:

“Accident Grave de Voyageur le trafic est interrompu entre Jules Joffrin et St-Lazare”

Accident grave (which I think translates into English well) means that someone, somehow, has fallen onto the tracks and is injured/dead. I read a story just this evening about a man who dropped his cell phone on the tracks and decided to jump down to get it, ignoring the signs that are EVERYWHERE that read "DANGER: DO NOT DESCEND ON THE TRACKS." He wasn't hit by a train, but there are electrical currents running through the tracks and... you can imagine what happened.

Sometimes people fall, or are even pushed (though I think that is pretty rare) and they are hit by the oncoming train. The most common, and I promise you this, is suicide.

I cannot imagine a worse way to go out than throwing yourself in front of an oncoming metro, and considering that a lot of those people just end up terribly mangled and not dead, yikes. And yet, honestly, this happens if not once a week, once every other week. It is common enough that the RATP has special counseling services for drivers who have witnessed (and essentially, partaken in) these incidents, as well as for people who were witnesses. A lot of drivers can't even continue to work after such an incident.

Now, I have no idea what happened on my line this morning, as the sign I saw later simply said "Due to diverse incidents on Line 1." But I can tell you that I sincerely never hope to be witness to such an accident.

I'm sorry, I know this post was morbid, but it is an interesting fact about Paris that I was shocked to learn. And now you know - always be safe when taking public transport!

Lazy Sunday

2009-10-11T12:21:00.003-05:00

Today, I woke up and felt bored. I had nothing to do. (this obviously isn't true, I'm in grad school, so the more appropriate phrase is "I had nothing that I wanted to do.")

Luckily I live in, you know, Paris.

I decided to finally go see The September Issue, which by the way, gets like a million thumbs up, excellent movie.

During this movie, they had all these beautiful exterior scenes of Paris, and it hit me: I live in Paris. There was an exterior shot of the Opera Garnier, which happened to be right near the theatre I was at, and I realized that I could walk out of the theatre, walk 20 feet, and see it in person. My life is pretty awesome right now.

After the movie ended, I was feeling pretty content and decided to go for a walk. Today it was gray and cold, so I went to Angelina's to get a cup of hot chocolate to go and just started walking. First stop was Rue Saint Honoré. It's some pretty expensive real estate (not as chic as it's extension, Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, where I have not been yet) but nothing compared to my next route:

Avenue Montaigne.

Talk about some serious real estate. It's a small stretch of road that runs between the Champs-Elysees and the Seine just before the Eiffel Tower, but there is a lot of designer shopping for such a small street. Let me put it this way: if you can pop a chicken in the oven (or, okay, have your personal chef pop an organic free range chicken in the oven), walk outside, snap up a Chanel purse, a Valentino gown, and some Jimmy Choo shoes, and still be home before dinner is even ready, you're living in a pretty expensive area.

All this being said, it made me realize that after this, I need to find a high-powered, high-paying job so that one day I can stroll down Avenue Montaigne and actually snap up some things myself, not just lécher les vitrines (the French term for "window shopping" that actually translates to "to lick the windows," which, frankly, is more accurate to what I was doing).

Or, I could just continue to endorse my Fund for the Fashionably Needy.

The Cardinal American Sin

2009-10-10T05:48:00.003-05:00

Let's take a break from fashion, shall we? (I hear a collective sigh of relief.)

Recently, plans were announced to build a McDonald's in the Louvre.

I can hear your outrage already. First, it won't be in the actual Louvre, but in the shopping complex known as the Carrousel de Louvre. Second, they're also opening an Apple store there. You can buy make-up and clothes there. It's really hardly a true extension of the Louvre. It's not like McDonald's bought up the space opposite the Mona Lisa, so everyone just take a big deep breath and calm down for a second.

I get it, I do. American consumerism, sacred art place, blah blah blah. I promise you, I understand why it's a problem. But, I'd like to point out that there is already a McDonald's right across the street from the Louvre. They're all over Paris.

This topic brings me to something that truly irritates me, and that is American snobberism. There are few cardinal sins an American can commit in Paris, and one of them is frequenting McDonald's. But you won't be judged by the French - no, you'll find yourself on the receiving end of a withering stare from your American expats.

"You're in Paris, why would you want to eat McDonald's?"

Well, for starters, the french fries are delicious. It's cheap, it's fast, and oh yea, pretty much the only thing open on a Sunday. And sometimes, you just want McDonald's. It's comfort food. The French don't do mac n' cheese, there is no real Mexican food here, but they do have McDonald's.

Don't get me wrong, if you're only going to be in Paris for a week or so, please don't do a tour of McDonald's. By all means, sit in the cafes, take luxuriously long dinners, enjoy ridiculously rich delicious food. Unfortunately, I'm a student, which means I'm poor in both the time and money to enjoy such meals on a regular basis. I'm not saying I eat MacDo everyday - I've had it maybe 3 times since I've been here - but I am saying that even the French do not live on French food alone.

Those Macdo's you hate so much? They aren't staying open all over the city based on American tourists alone. They're filled with - wait for it - French people. French people who maybe want to occasionally indulge in some delicious Macdo. (Of course, a side note: the portions here, as is true all over the city, are significantly more reasonable than stateside. A medium is more like an American small.)

I hear you; why not just stop and get a sandwich? A crepe? Yes, I do this most of the time. There's a little cafe around the corner from my school that I frequent on my lunch breaks. But like I said, even French people don't eat like that all the time. Sometimes you just want some frites on the go.

And Starbuck's? Forget it. "You went to Starbuck's?!"

Uh, yes. First of all, when it's 9:45, I have class at 10, I was up til 2 doing homework, I want coffee. I don't have time to just sit in a cafe reading Le Monde and sipping on a cafe creme, as nice as that is. And Starbuck's is probably the only place in the city where you can order a coffee to go and they don't hand it to you in a dixie cup. (See previous statement about serving sizes.)

So I get that we American's don't like that our primary exposure in foreign countries is our consumerism. Obesity is probably our number one export after all. But I think Americans, especially expats, have this romantic idea of completely immersing ourselves in a culture, of losing our "Americanness" and imagining that we too can be chicly French, reading the newspaper and sipping on a coffee. Anything that ruins that image, or brings us back to the fact that, hey, we are Americans, upsets them greatly. I say, hey, let's just calm down a little and just do whatever makes us happy - live and let live.

I mean, they are French fries after all.

Devil wears... Chloe?

2009-10-09T15:15:00.006-05:00

I know I said no more fashion-y posts, but it's me, so you had to know that was a lie.

Fashion week has really inspired me. In other words, I want lots of things I can't afford.

Not to get on the Balmain bandwagon (seriously, if I see any more of these shoulders..), but I adore these.

I think that everyone should pool together and buy me these.

Also, these boots fulfill my every fantasy of being Adam Ant:

Again, taking donations for the fashion needy!

My new favorite time of year

2009-10-07T06:45:00.006-05:00

Fashion Week -it's the most wonderful time of the year!

Last Saturday, Garance Dore was having an event at Colette. She did this super limited edition set of t-shirts for Gap in London, and Colette was doing a limited release/signing. Of course, her boyfriend Scott Schuman was there as well. I debated even going, because Colette is super swanky (think at least three 0's behind every tag) and I didn't know what I would say. Thanks to the encouragement of my super amazing boyfriend, I did end up going. I snagged two shirts, and then realizing that Scott would probably be signing things too, a copy of his book. I waited in line, and finally, there they were. I didn't take pictures because I wanted to appear cool (which I failed at, I think). I asked Garance to sign my bag, because I wanted to wear the shirts and I didn't want the autograph to wash out. I told her and Scott that I was a student at Columbia, and that I was interested in doing my thesis on the importance of fashion in French culture. They both seemed pretty enthused about the idea. Scott signed my book, and I turned around to leave.

A guy who worked at Colette was coming through the room with free drinks (I still have no idea if it was alcoholic or not, but still, free drink, and I was sweating like a prostitute in church, it was so hot in there) so I stopped and took a moment to observe what was going on. This model, Natasha Poly, was in there because they had this exhibit going on called Natasha Obsessed based on a magazine called Muse which had done an entire issue dedicated to all things Natasha.

This is Natasha. Are you seeing those cheekbones? Insane.

Anyway, I saw this guy give her a bottle of water, so I just started chatting him up. Turns out, he was one of her New York agents, and he was super nice. I asked him if Natasha was signing things - she was, just things with her face on them as the proceeds went to charity. See that shirt she's signing? I'm pretty sure it was designed by Riccardo Tisci, and it was over 200 euros. But they did have that Muse magazine, so I bought a copy and timidly asked her agent if he thought she would sign it for me. He says, "Of course!" and walks me straight up to Natasha to personally introduce me. Yes, I died. She was so nice, she signed my magazine, and I went to leave because, frankly, I couldn't take the crowd in there anymore. As I was leaving, her agent says that he forgot his cards, but that I should totally write down his email address and stay in touch! Um, yes please! I left feeling so excited - I actually made a connection in the fashion industry, which is super hard. As my boyfriend said when I called him, "Your voice is like, a whole octave higher than normal." Yes, that exciting.

Sunday I ran by the Givenchy show because I knew it would be a big fashion pull. Saw a lot of big names, and...
I was that close to Carine Roitfeld! (Not the most flattering picture, sorry!)

Yesterday I ran by the Chloe show, because I lovvveeee that particular brand.

Maria Kerner. I've seen photos of her on The Sartorialist, and I adore her sense of style.

That would be Garance Dore in action - I was pretty excited to take this shot. Shortly thereafter, Garance and Scott both spotted me. I heard, "Oh look, she's wearing the shirt!" and they both waved at me enthusiastically. I was indeed wearing one of her shirts, and yes, I did indeed have a minor heart attack that they kind of recognized me.

After the show. Nina Garcia!

Anja Rubik.

Sasha Pivovarova.

Okay, this is my favorite, Karlie Kloss. Love her! Look at how amazingly pretty she is!

I had to take another picture. So amazing.

So seeing these models up close, they are still so unnaturally pretty. Some of them are frighteningly skinny looking in real life, so I'm less okay with that, but I mean look at them!

Today I was going to run by the Louis Vuitton show (if I have to post a link to Louis Vuitton, you're living under a rock!) but unfortunately, thanks to some woman I sat next to on the metro who coughed her way through the line without covering her mouth, I am ill. Oh well, it's for the best. Though, if I miss a Leighton Meester sighting, I'm going to be less gracious about it.

Fashion week ends today, so I promise my posts will go back to normal soon and won't be so fashion-centric! Or maybe they will.

Oh, and I'm not saying I have a shopping problem or anything, but I am starting a Zara fund.

You can help clothe the fashion needy!

Fashion week!

2009-10-02T11:07:00.006-05:00

I thought that this week, since I have internet at my apartment, I would update more. Wrong! Turns out being a master's student keeps you pretty busy, and on top of that....

Paris Fashion Week started Wednesday!!!!!!

Okay, so it's not like I have tickets or time (see above statement) but still. Wednesday night was the Gareth Pugh show, at the Palais de Tokyo, so I decided I would just hang around and see who would be there because he's kind of having a moment. I was greatly rewarded. I saw some of my favorite bloggers: Scott Schuman, Garance Dore, and Tommy Ton. I saw some pretty important fashion people, including Anna Dello Russo, Hamish Bowles, and Grace Coddington. To say that I was starstruck would be kind of an understatement; I tried to be cool but in the end I took pictures anyway. I was really tempted to walk up to Garance Dore and introduce myself to try to talk about my master's thesis (I want to write about the importance of fashion in French culture) but I chickened out.

For the legit celebrities, I saw Michael Stipe (I know, right?), Adrien Grenier (of Entourage.. I wouldn't have even noticed him really except this other group of American girls freaked out over him and ran up to get a picture), and... Rhianna.

I happened to have a pretty sweet sitting post when this van pulled up and all the photographers about had a heart attack. I for some reason expected it to be Carine Roitfeld, the editor-in-chief of Paris Vogue, but nope, out pops Rhianna.

That on the right would be the back of her head as she left. It would have been the front of her head, aka her face, but my flash was moving kind of slow and she was moving kind of fast. And it isn't zoomed in at all; she was so close to me that I could insert a totally inappropriate Chris Brown joke here (I won't though, cause I keep it classy).

Anyway, I haven't been able to make any other shows; I'm crossing my fingers that I can find some good ones this weekend. The Chanel show takes place smack in the middle of my history class, which is upsetting (though, again, I don't have any way to get in so there is no real reason to be upset).

In quick, but unrelated news, they have this ad campaign going on right now aimed at young people who have metro passes (like mine.. it's a year long unlimited pass). Essentially the idea of the ads is to profit from being able to travel all around the city. There was a new one up, though, that I particularly enjoy. See if you can figure out why:

It's fuzzy, so just in case you need a closer look....

It's like, "Oh hey Francois, what did you do this weekend?"

"Oh nothing man, just the usual. You know, listening to music, getting into chopstick fights with giant pieces of sushi, hanging out with my girlfriend and a ridiculously large condom."

I love the French.

Falling Parisienne style

2009-09-27T09:16:00.004-05:00

There is something so magical and enchanting about Paris in the fall. That sounds super cliche but again, as a Floridian I've never experienced a legit autumn.

This weekend has been amazing. To explain why it's so amazing, a little backstory: I saw this pair of shoes in last week's Elle magazine (which is a weekly here, fyi). On Wednesday I went and tried them on, and the girl next to me looked over and said, "Oh, mais elles sont geniales!" (essentially, those are amazing.) Let me just tell you something: French girls do NOT offer unsolicited shopping advice, ever. You won't be in the fitting room and have some random stranger tell you that something looks great on you. So to have this French girl say that about the shoes I was trying on - SOLD. The problem is, once I got home I realized that I actually needed the next size up because they ran small. I called literally almost every André in town trying to find the size I needed with no such luck (this is also because the name of the shoe is Reggae, which is fine in English, but apparently in French impossible for me to say because they never understood what I was saying, even after I tried saying "you know, like the music, like Bob Marley." And forget spelling, because "e" in French is how you say "i" so I kept spelling it wrong.)

Friday I woke up and decided to return the shoes, because there was no point in keeping shoes I couldn't wear. I went to the André near my school and the saleslady told me to return to the André at Forum des Halles because they had received a delivery that morning. BINGO! Found the last pair in my size and exchanged them out. So that was the first (and most shallow) part of my amazing weekend.

That night after dinner, it was super nice out so I hopped on the metro and saw the light show at the Eiffel Tower, which I love. I got to sleep in on Saturday, and then I met up with this girl in my program to visit the musee des arts decoratifs, where there was an exhibit about Madeleine Vionnet (I took pictures until I got yelled at - oops ;) ). We went to Angelina's (it's a famous tea room in Paris, I can't find a good article anywhere about it, but it's ah-mazing) for hot chocolate, and when I got home I finally had internet at my apartment! So exciting.

Today I woke up and met my friend Clare for lunch at this place that serves that morning's fresh oysters harvest every day (they were out by the time we got there though). We went to a little cafe and had a coffee, and then just kind of ended up strolling around Bastille and the Marais. This whole weekend has been beautiful and sunny, not a cloud in the sky, and hovering just around 70 degrees with a light breeze. So picturesque.

This is some monument to some guy who did something in the Congo - I don't know. I walk past it everyday, I should know by now, but the point of this picture is all the fallen leaves!

I live within a 10 minute walk from here, it's the Bois de Vincennes and it was so pretty today!

So now that I have internet here, I should be able to update more! Hooray!