Paris really needs to do everyone a favour and stop being such a beautiful, inspiring place; otherwise people are just going to keep on taking dodgy, arty farty pictures all over the shop.
Case in point:
I am getting serious mileage out of last weekend’s trip to Paris – me + camera + very blogworthy place = millions of images. Did you know that it takes just 20 minutes to cross the channel on the Eurostar, and that it goes below the sea, as in, under the seabed? They are just some of the things that I discovered. Here are some more…
…and that’s just the start of it. I’ll give you a pound if you can tell me what that amazing building in the seventh picture is. Not everyone, just the first person.
I am a lazy blogger and a busy non-internet human so my outfit posts are sporadic at best. So technically I wore this over a week ago, but it is very very rare I am out and about (in the Tuileries, Paris, bitch) with a camera and a friend to use it. Hence it stays. I love my Nikes. The french didn’t. I always think I love these jeans til I wear them and halfway through the day I realise I like the idea of them. D’oh.
Hmm, do I have a point? Here’s me wearing clothes. In a foreign country. Just out of shot are a load of disapproving looking French people wondering why on earth I look like houndstooth threw up on me. And lace. And denim. Although later that day I went to the most amazing vintage shop in the world and met the nicest man ever – calm down, he runs the place. He didn’t judge me for looking weird. Which was nice of him. The shop? Adom in Bastille. It is quite simply my favourite vintage shop in the whole world – so much so I dragged Julie around the whole of La Marais for about three hours trying to find it only to finally realise it was the wrong district. Ooops. Hey, it’s not my fault all those pretty Parisian streets look the same. I found the best boots ever but alas was too poor to buy them, so I am currently negotiating with nice man (speaking francais over the phone is DIFFICIL) to send them to me. Cross your fingers for me.
Oh, and I need to get some clothes that are not American Apparel. Literally 70% of my wardrobe is Apparel. I don’t know how I feel about that.
Jacket, Thrifted; Shirt, Tshirt worn over, Jeans, all American Apparel; Nikes, Nike
Last weekend I went to Paris. And ate my body weight in cheese and drank red wine like a red wine drinking fish. Needless to say it was immense.
Here’s what I wore on the Saturday. The Parisians didn’t get it at all, they kept staring at me like I was a crazy person. They really really don’t understand colour, or pattern. Or they probably understand it, but think it’s ridiculous. Note to self: next time, wear black. On it’s own. Maybe with a hint of grey. But no colour, no pattern. You will get funny looks. Oops.
Hat & sunglasses, H&M; Skirt & Sweater, American Apparel; Shoes, Office; Bag, Topshop; Jacket & denim shirt, thrifted