Three Days After
I can’t believe it. You’ve actually succeeded in getting me to publish a picture of myself. Aaaaah bravo!!!
beauté
Stolen Beauty
There are times in life when you just need to indulge a little, don’t you think?
When you’re a little manhandled by too-short nights for example, or when you’ve got cheeks worn out from doing air kisses, and when your brain is on strike from talking about skirt lengths in a million different languages without speaking even one of them properly.
“In short, when you become an exhausted, hypocritical, vain and stupid creature, that’s when it’s high time to do yourself some good,” I said to myself sipping down my 12th cup of coffee.
my nights are more beautiful than your days...
Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Everywhere I’m seeing girls who want to make me jealous with their supernatural blondness. What’s going on here? This season, everyone’s gone platinum blonde.
Aaaah la la. This is giving me goosebumps.
I think this is absolutely sublime. It’s totally rock and angelic at the same time and I get the impression that all platinum blondes automatically have a life much more fascinating than mine. 100% sure. All of them. It’s gotta be.
So there you have it. If one day I take a nose dive into a bucket of bleach, at least you’ll know why.
Bonne journée!
Translation : Tim Sullivan
Front Row ! Flash ! Blop ! Wiiiz !
Oh man, these fashion weeks are going by in a blink. I’m already in Milan! But I gotta keep you up to date on the last developments in London. A little synopsis of everything lived, done, and heard between the start of the Burberry show and just before leaving the after-party, completely drunk at…
9 p.m.
You don’t change out a winning team. Yeah fine, have your fun Alexa.
-A funny thing happened to me: my seat at the show was right behind Anna Wintour. So besides being able to sift through every pore of her most serene skin, I could gaze at, right there infront of me, Alexa C., Frida P., Mary Kate O., Liv T., Emma W., Gwyneth P., and Posh S.
-What does everyone do before a megastarred show? You tweet. Okay, except for me, my Blackberry is way too small. So just to blend in, I tweet orally.
-Overheard –> Gwyneth Paltrow to Anna Wintour [Just an FYI, It was Gwyneth who got up to go say hello to Anna. Ha, everything in its right place.], “Anna, I’m so happy to see you. Your last movie was so amaaaaazing!!”
- And no, I didn’t have my camera. I had to make a choice : thigh high boots or camera. So thigh highs it was. To make up for it, I thought I’d give you photos of my three favorite socialites. With always a special love shout-out to my dear Alexa, who’s always a ray of sunlight, really, the coolest girl on earth. And Dree Hemingway, just… wow.
- Wow… In her Zara shirt. And of course, as you wouldn’t expect less from me, I made may way over to the nearest Zara to try it on. No idea why, but it didn’t fall on me the same way.
- Anna W., according to Gwyneth P., will soon be Oscared up!
- The thing about my Stella McCartney tight high boots (yep)(no but seriously girl)(ok, I’ll tell you about ‘em), is that they come up so high that everyone picks up my skirt to see just how high they go. Next time, I’m wearing smiley panties.
The Devil Wears Margiela
Saturday morning, freaked out by my skin being completely washed-out, I decided it was time to take immediate action. No time to get an appointment with the dermotologist. No time to stop and think two seconds about my diet the past two weeks consisting of only choclate and coffee.
Don’t tell me you don’t see it !
You remember last time we were talking about hair? I told you that despite my desire to change color, which I have NEVER DONE IN MY LIFE, seeing as I lack the necessary discipline and therefore risk the threat of two inch roots, I always leave my hair long, free, wavy and natural, natural, natural.
Liar.
comme sur une balançoire
Welcome. Welcome. Come one, come all into my private life. Welcome to the moment where I fling myself, buck naked down to my cold cold heart even in the bleak midwinter, with all the grace and lightness I can muster a few minutes after my alarm has gone off. Welcome to this moment where I fling myself and touch down on…
It’s a Girl Thing
Girls, I did it.
It all started one day in December. I was in the middle of explaining to three girlfriends how dealing with my beautician makes me pull my hair out, but like, literally. How she was talking too much telling me she wasn’t feeling well, and that she didn’t like the Chanel show, which really, that’s enough in it of itself to compromise the foundation of our relationship. You don’t diss the Chanel show.
And then I look up and right there in front of me, three astonished faces, six eyes wide-open and three gaping mouths.
