NYC, Sunday the 20th, 12:00 p.m., Welcome to WordPress Garance! You have 1 comment awaiting approval:

Deborah: Oh Garance, you’re SO shallow.  This world is crazy in the head. Fashion, fashion, fashion. I mean, really, where is all that fashion gonna get you?

NYC, Dimanche 20, 12h, bienvenue sur WordPress Garance ! 1 commentaire attend votre approbation :

Deborah : “Oh Garance, you’re SO shallow. This world is crazy in the head. Fashion, fashion, fashion. I mean, really, were is all that fashion gonna get you ?*”

NYC, Dimanche 20, 12h, bienvenue sur WordPress Garance ! 1 commentaire attend votre approbation :

Deborah : “Oh Garance, you’re SO shallow. This world is crazy in the head. Fashion, fashion, fashion. I mean, really, were is all that fashion gonna get you ?*”

Pfffff… Where to start, Deborah?  I… okay you’re right! I’m superficial, JUST NOT ALL THE TIME! Not all my subscriptions have glossy pages. I’m a conscious consumer. I recycle. I vote and I also think the world is crazy in the head. Actually, we’re in the same boat, you and me. Okay, great, 1 comment approved.

—-

NYC, Sunday the 20th, 3:00 p.m., I’m stuck in the Big Apple. Huge snowstorms forced me to stay two more days here. Oh no… Life can be SO rough sometimes. When the hostess called me to tell me the bad news, I thought I was going to give her a big sloppy one on the lips* I was so happy.

Blissed out, I thought I’d do what I love most in NYC, buy books and cupcakes**, and then go home, make myself a cup of tea, and scarf all three down simultaneously***.

I geared myself up, seeing as outside was Tundra. Parka, pants, heavy socks, scarfs, hat, big hood. When I can’t see anything or move, that means that I’m all good, no more cold for me.

And then…

Then…

I got all my shoes out… And I realized that NOTHING I had would help me brave the snow. And on top of that, not only are 99% of my shoes heels, all the others I love too much to go walking out in the mud and salt (salt is terrible for shoes, TERRIBLE) that’s all over the sidewalk.

At the same time, I’m not gonna let three clods of mud get in my way, that’s right, Gawance Dowé. I get out my platform boots, (that’ll keep me far away from the mud)( =mini-skis, actually) and voilà, off I go into the blizzard.

I get a foot outside. In the snow, I walk like master Yoda, like in the first version of Star Wars, when he’s in his cave, and his light saber has lost all its worth, you know what I’m talking about? Mountains of slowly decomposing snow followed by pools of mud deeper than Pamela Anderson’s neckline.

After about three steps, I’m quite literally stuck.

I stop for three seconds to reflect on my situation and my role in the universe while I’m pretending to send some texts on my Blackberry. All around me, New Yorkers have gotten out their rubber boots. Chic and practical, they make huge bounds in the snow with a grace that rocks me with jealousy.

But even that won’t hold me back. I’ll make some detours, but I’ll get there eventually. And I can even make a little pit-stop at Marc by Marc just next to Magnolia Bakery where I’m sure to find some rubber boots for $10 (Yeah, I know Deborah, rubber boots that price are not environmentally conscious) and then voilà, I’ll have the gear of a true New Yorker. And I’m off.

A half hour later, I’m still struggling to make it around my block. I start to see my hopes on their way back down. And then there’s a Starbucks just in front of me, I could always just go get a muffin there, and then get home and finally finish Journey to the End of Night instead of buying myself some wretched chick-lit. Deborah would be pleased.

No. Not good enough. Keep going. Prove it to the world (= to yourself) that your love of heels won’t get in the way of your life as a liberated woman.

In a desperate plea (what can I do to not finish this terrible Céline paper back?) I flip an ollie on a puddle of mud… And then, without me asking whatsoever, my Cholé mini-skis are on their way… And this starts the progression toward my fatal cascade : My superficiality and me, inextricably linked, heading face first into a pile of snow.

Mortified, I make my retreat and head back home. Adieu cupcakes, Marc by Marc, and piles of paperbacks.

Pffff.

—-

Deborah: Oh Garance, you’re SO shallow.  This world is crazy in the head. Fashion, fashion, fashion. I mean, really, where is all that fashion gonna get you?

Answer = not even to the next block! Ok, ok, ok – Deborah 1, Garance 0.

—-

Voilà, there’s my little winter’s tale, taking time to wish you a holiday season filled with cupcakes. And also to give a little hint for my family about what to leave under the tree on Friday.

And of course, to promise you that it’s not gonna be tomorrow that I stop being superficial!!! Rainboots, yeah, ok. But high heels all the way! Ooookay, I’ll stop talking about nothing. Happy holidays and Merrrryyyyyyyy Christmas!!! Big, big, big hugs!

—–

* Into the telephone, the kisses, have some decency.

** I know. CUPCAKES HAVE SEDUCED US AND TAKEN THE WORLD BY SURPRISE AND THEY’RE TRYING TO CONQUER ALL THE NAUGHTY BOYS AND GIRLS. At the same time, who cares, it’s the same with macaroons: they’re a bit cheesy but ohhh so good.

*** And then call my therapist. And then call my therapist. And then call my therapist.

Translation : Tim Sullivan