All sunglasses look good on me. I’m serious. You can test me on this if you want. All of them, no exceptions.
When I try out a pair of sunglasses, this is what I get all the time, “Oh! Mademoiselle! It’s amazing how great those look on you.” To that, I raise a proud eyebrow and say:
“Okay, so I’m just going to stop you right there: all sun glasses look good on me. Can we quit with the praises of my perfect little oval please and concentrate a little more on the model here. Tell me: you got anything new?
Result: I have tons and tons of sunglasses. Every style you can think of from the most extravagant, like this pair of Chanels bought for the price of a diamond a year ago, covered with leather, and worn only once, or this pair by Chloé, both asymmetrical AND fluorescent. I’m serious, they exist. Next we have this plastic pair from Mango in the style of Annie Hall, worn a little too much until I realized that Annie Hall was definitely nice and put-together, but sexy… yeah… not so sure.
Despite my extreme optical pretension, last time I was in New York, I found myself without sunglasses. The sun was beating down like a Cassavetes film (Okay, I just say that because it sounds cool, but really, in all Cassavetes’ films, it’s raining. But all the actors have super cool sunglasses!), and I found a simple pair of Ray Ban Aviators looking terrible as ever just sitting there on the shelf. I sighed with all this banality, but I put them on and went out the door.
And that day, tons of compliments.
I kept wearing them, even though my true sunglasses collector spirit kept crying out, “Blasphemy! You can’t go around wearing stuff that has been EVERYWHERE for 10 years now. You, the Priestess of sunglasses? You, the gift that kept on giving for Marc Le Bihan? You, who could be ready tomorrow to go head to head with Jackie O? Aviators? Seriously? Aviators that even Sarah Jessica Parker wouldn’t wear anymore? You?”
Not so fast, a little while later, I saw my sister who has known me through all my coutures, who is THE person I can trust. She looks at me and she says, “You know, those sunglasses, they look good on you. It’s not like all that other shit you usually buy hoping to hear that ALL sunglasses look good on you ALL the time, crazy girl. But with these you’re… just beautiful.”
Wooooo wo wo. Okay, you’re my sister, and we’re not shy with the compliments for one another. What I’m trying to say, I love you and all, but let’s not go too far, mmmk? Aviators = just beautiful?”
Ok. Roger that. Message received 5 on 5, Fox Trot, prepare for impact.
So here I go, back down from my paradise of sunglasses. My ego got hit hard, “that other shit I usually buy” put away. No more craziness. I found my perfect pair. Now I know. Even if I may not always be faithful, Aviators, there are none better for my face and my perfectly normal oval of a head.
Oh despair! How dumb is this going to be?! Aren’t my eyes going to get bored?! And what am I supposed to say to the sunglasses salesgirls? How sad is it to finally know yourself, to have finally arrived? Mark Le Bihan, come cry with me. Come here, right next to my normal oval head, ohhhhh, I know! You’re depressed. So tell me, you get in anything new this week?
Translation : Tim Sullivan