We talked last time about style and personality… I’ve been looking for mine (style AND personality) for a long time now.

Well. There have been a few moments slightly more memorable than others:

1/ I am 8 years old and in love with my papa.

Just to have the privilege of spending as much time with him as possible, I become interested in everything he does. I even dress like him.
I’m also the biggest fan, since I was a kid, of George, the heroine from The Famous Five.

My look? Pants and short hair. I am a real tomboy in school and the little model girls (the perfectas of the time) look at me with a raised brow.

2/ I am 13 and in love with Marcel.

Marcel is the most handsome skater in middle school. He has no idea I exist.
Seeing that I don’t think of myself as someone with a personnality, I tell myself that the best thing to get noticed by him is:

a/ Copy his style. Baggy jeans. Baggy t-shirts. Chuck Taylors.

Result: Nothin’. Still has no clue of my existence.

b/ Refine my analysis. I observe that all of Marcel’s skater friends have super feminine girlfriends. I kick myself for being so stupid when I was younger (=2 days earlier). Of course, guys prefer real girls!!!

Shift in strategy. I become super girly.

Result: Nothin’. Still doesn’t know I exist.

I conclude that it isn’t with style that you win male affection. The day I figured that out, I met my first love. No, not Marcel. Marcel, to this day, still doesn’t know I exist.

3/ I am 15 and in love with Rei Kawakubo.

Whom I encounter in The Face, my new bible. Seeing that I have no clothing budget, I go on secret missions into my mother’s wardrobe.

I grab some of her most beautiful outfits (Alaïa? Mugler?) and with the help of a big pair of scissors, I turn them into Comme Des Garçons.

In Ajaccio, where I am living, no one understands my look except for me. Teenage Angst and despair. No one understands me ! And my mother even less, who flat out fainted the day she discovered my wrongdoings. Outraged by her lack of creativity, I bark at her that one day, Rei Kawakubo will adopt me and that way, everybody will be happy.

4/ I am 17 and in love with my best friend.

Our style? Agnès B skinny jeans, big sweater, Doc Martens. Always the same, always matching, every day, all the time. Our dresser? Shared. Our friends? Shared. Our favorite movies? shared (Rocky Horror Picture Show). Our personality? Wait, what did you say ? Our what?

5/ I am 21 years old and in love with Björk.

My look: Hiking shoes like Björk, mini-skirt like Björk, hair in a multi-bun like Björk, and military parka because not like Björk : I didn’t have the budget to shop at Hussein Chalayan.

One day, on a whim, just to see what it would be like, I shaved my head. Because I’m soooo woooooh! Rrrrrrrsgsgsg (guttural noises like Björk)!!! Crazy! Like Britney Björk.

6/ I am 24 and in love with a rocker.

Skinny jeans (you can’t find them back then, takes forever in vintage shops, but, hey, between two rock concerts, I have aaaaaaall the time in the world) pointy ballet flats (you can’t find them back then, takes forever in vintage shops, but, hey, between two rock concerts, I have aaaaaaall the time in the world) vintage fur (So easy to find, pfffff, annoying), cigarette in one hand, beer in the other, backstage pass around my neck.

A few years later, I realize I don’t like beer and you can see the concert better if you’re in the audience. It’s not like the venue is packed, anyway…

7/ I am 26 and in love with Zara.

Went well with my budget as a newbie to the workforce. In the span of a couple months, my wardrobe consists of 80% Zara. Zara becomes my religion, and just like mass, I make sure to go once a week and soon I have no idea how I ever got dressed in the morning before Zara.

Result: Same look as all my friends. No wait… Same look as my entire city ! No. Same look as all of France!!! No, same look as the entire world!

8/ I am 27 and I am broke.

I quit my job to work as a freelance illustrator. Bohemian life here we come! Even H&M is considered luxury, it’s the rock bottom of shopping. It’s the fashion juice cleanse. The only thing I can’t stop buying is magazines. Ahhh ! Land of dreams !

9/ I am 30, I am an illustrator and I have a blog!!!

Fashion blogs were born in France at the same time fashion mass market explodes. Zara, TopShop, H&M, it’s also the start of collaborations with designers (The War For a Jacket by Karl Lagerfeeeeeeld!!!!)… We are all overshopping.

And I am starting to make a living on my illustrations, and so after the fashion juice cleanse, it’s a total relapse: Instead of staying calm and buying just a few good pieces, I ruin myself with “good fashion deals” and stupid private sales.

It’s the worst period for me in terms of style. I am not dressing for me. Not even for a guy or my best friend but just to try to be fashionable.

Like for example, when Phoebe Philo was with Chloé. You remember those baby doll dresses? Can you imagine me in a pseudo Chloé baby doll dress? No? Me neither.

But I did it. Really guys, it was the dark ages.

10/ I Don’t Have Enough Perspective To Comment On The Years That Follow But:

My style found its footing again and went back to fundamentals: man’s closet and short skirts, among some others. I still have moments where I panic and suddenly try to become as sexy-cool as Emmanuelle Alt or as sexy-chic as Carine Roitfeld but moments like those usually don’t last a long time.

I’ve come to realize that no matter what I do, I can’t help but be me.

I still have a lot of things to learn in terms of evening dressing. Sometimes I panic when the runway shows come about. Stupid purchases, losing my head at the last minute, hysterical behavior right before heading out the door, and sometimes, a completely stupid outfit that gives me the desire to just die right then and there, as I always realize just how horrible the look is after it’s way too late to change it.

But I’m sure we’ve all been there.

Even Carine Roitfeld.

We forget quickly. What we remember are the moments when people look the most beautiful and feel most at home in their own skin. That’s what sticks with us, what we hold dear and what is most important, don’t you think?

Translation : Tim Sullivan

Thanks for sending over your questions on Facebook!

Daphné chose one question to answer and if you click on the image, you’ll have her responses!

Kisses !!

The time has come when I’ve started to suffer from an acute case of winter laziness – that is to say that we’re saying goodbye! to the new super motivated New York Garance who juggles a pilates class with her daily run and yoga and hello! to the Garance flat on her back in front of a rather questionable* TV show comparing the textures of three different kinds of peanut butter**, hello! to the Garance who:

• Hasn’t jogged in 2 months.
• Forced herself out of bed with a super human amount of effort to go to, get this, Virgin Yoga, this morning. The yog’ for beginners. Just out of fear that I would overstretch a finger. Aaaah, at least I’m bound to be the best in the class***!
• Hasn’t called her pilates teacher for two weeks. And this is after promising, high five included, to see her twice a week to sculpt the most amazing abs you’ve ever seen. And now I have to hide every time I walk by her gym, which is around three times a day****.

So yeah, when I start looking dangerously like a depressed slug, the only thing that can really motivate me, can you guess what it is?

It’s my sports clothes. It’s simple, if I really want to go to the gym but I have the motivation of a ground hog, all I have to do is pull out my sports clothes.

Once dressed, I go about my daily routine*****.

An hour or two later, the magic happens. I add a little bounce to my step in my tennis shoes, I strike some acrobatic poses (I know, soooo annoying.) in my yoga pants and suddenly, I stop thinking of myself as a slug, but as a Gaga 2.0. And just like that, the desire to move my body comes storming back.

I should add that sometimes in between when I used to go to the gym in pajamas with holes in them****** and now, I discovered a new sanctuary for modern times. This sanctuary is known as Nike Town.

I love, seriously LOVE Nike Town and everything I’ve brought back from my pilgrimages their way. It’s almost as good as the Apple Store. Or like Céline on rue François 1er. Or like the Ladurée in Saint-Germain-Des-Prés. I get into the shop and then bam, somebody stop me, I want to buy everything in the store!!!

I guess I’m turning into a walking Nike ad so I will stop right here, but during this time of acuuuuute winter laziness, YOU TAKE MOTIVATION WHERE YOU FIND IT, little grasshopper.

No, seriously! Where do you get your motivation when you can’t get off the couch?

—————–

* Brothers & Sisters – I still haven’t figure out why I like this show, but okay, seeing as I’m in the middle of season 5, there has to be something. That or I’ve really just become a couch potato.

** I love the machine at Whole Foods that grinds the peanuts up right before my dumbfounded eyes – the people in line behind me to grind their peanuts (aaaaaah the joys of Whole Foods – I could do an entire series on this subject – It would be called Granoland) could tell you all loooooog stories about the poor little French girl, hypnotized by the peanut butter grinder.

*** No no no, of course not. Me? I’d never compare myself to others in the room. You’re not supposed to do that. I’d never compare myself like that. That said, this morning in Virgin Yoga, I WAS BY FAR THE BEST IN THE ROOM. Yep, just a fact, that’s all.

**** For an odd taste of irony, my favorite cafe, which has my favorite cookies, all mellow and at the same time crispy and chocolaty, is right next to my gym.

***** So tell me, spending most of the day in yoga pants, even if it’s très chic, you gotta have the guts to do it. But we talked about that a little bit ago.

****** “Oh, yeah, no, pajamas are totally stylish, and the holes are exactly what’s in right now.” That’s me justifying it to myself.

******* Yeah, you get an awful lot of stars with all these footnotes. I’m a little lost too. I’ve spent the past five minutes trying to get them in the right order with my post, instead of oh I don’t know, working out or something, for example.

Just because I’m in Morrocco doesn’t mean I forgot it was winter. We went across the High Atlas today and it was negative 12 outside.

So I got out my super cute blue cashmere beanie (I’m so the girl who talks about how stylish she is while traveling when really, I’ve been in my sweat pants for the past three days), and every time I wear a hat like this I just feel ridiculous. So lost in the Atlas mountains, it’s not like The Sartorialist is gonna be shooting me out of nowhere or something.

Lol. Okay quick.

I gotta tell you though that one of my dreams is to pull off a beanie -

- What is a beanie anyway? Do any of you know what a beanie is??? (I’m so the girl who learned the word a month ago and all the cool girls have been wearing them since Alexander Wang lost his baby teeth – we’re talking like Erin Wasson cool) Okay, a beanie is like a hat in the shape of a bean, which is a little too big in back. End of the style lesson. Learn it by heart.

Okay, if you take into account that one of my dreams is to pull off a striped beanie like the angel Gabriella in the photo that I ran into during a full explosion of coolitude and seductiveness (yeah, of course I’m quoting Kung Fu Panda : you know he’s my hero!) in Brooklyn a few days ago, you can see that if I can’t even pull off a blue beanie, we’re in pretty bad shape.

So I’m asking, how do you feel in a beanie? No, seriously…

I love this way of wearing a turtleneck, with hair tucked inside. It’s cool when you have long hair: all of the sudden, it’s as if you have a bob!

From Kaysi : Garance!!! Do you have any advice for creating a minimalist, functional, and fabulous wardrobe?

Mmmm… Kaysi, even if I dream of having a minimalist, functional, and fabulous wardrobe, most mornings I find myself buried under a mountain of clothes – outfits literally falling on top of me – I can never find anything and everything’s lost.

I usually just end up wearing the last thing I bought (right now, a pair of grey jeans and Fratelli Rossetti shoes) just because they’re on top of the pile.

That said, I could never dare to imagine just how happy I would be if every time I opened my closet, I found the following clothes, folded neatly and organized by color:

• Black cashmere turtlenecks. I still haven’t found the perfect one.
• Grey v-neck cashmere sweaters – Bompard makes the deepest Vs – I just love them.
• Silk shirts from Equipment, of course.
• Church’s flats. Three pairs.
• One pair of sublime very high heels, black, like the Pigalles by Louboutin – Yeah, only one! If they’re that sublime, they’ll be enough!
• Grey skinny jeans. White skinny jeans. Helmut Lang, the denim is the thinnest I’ve ever felt.
• One pair of boyfriend jeans.
• Two blazers, one black, the other marine blue. Stella.
• A straight-cut skirt, Céline.
• A Sarti scarf, light as a cloud. I’ll take a quick picture for you as I’m wearing one right now.
• A dress, Alaïa or Roland Mouret. Never goes out of style.
• A big coat, camel or grey.
• And a military parka – light and long.

And I’d go wild with accessories. A hat. Red socks. A pair of amazing sunglasses. A purse to die for. Bright nail-polish. Cause minimalistic is good but still, some girls are just born with glitter in their veins… ;-)

Don’t you think ?

Ok, so that was my version of functional and fabulous… What is yours ?

Translation : Tim Sullivan

I love the simplicity of these two looks and they’re perfect for the weather in New York right now.

A slightly flared skirt so you can take bigger steps, a super cozy little sweater, flats for the day and heels for night… So cool!

The first days of fall* made me condense my morning outfit** questions to two possibilities : very very casual or very very effortless, a Californian uniform*** which soon made my boyfriend wince. You know, even if the man is very tolerant regarding fashion, he is nonetheless… A man.

I had to come up with a plan.

And as I was definitely unwilling to let go of my newfound comfort****, I found an extra smart ruse.

One morning, at 8 o’clock after my shower, I simply put on my yoga pants, my Nikes and a big sweater and I snuck behind my computer.

Scott looked at me and said : “Ah ! You’re going to yoga ?”

Smiling, I answered : “Yes !”

Suddenly I saw a weird expression on his face, and with an Sherlock Holmes eye, he asked me : “And what time exactly are you going to yoga ?”

My bragging smile wore off and I said : “Oh, a little later !”

He decided not to let go : “Noooooo, but really, what time ?”

Defeated, I answered : “All right. At 5.”

He looked at me and bursted out laughing : “You’re serioulsy going to stay in your yoga pants till 5 PM !!!??”

Not knowing what to say (and also because I hate to lose) I heard myself answer :

“Nooooo, but, mmmm, you know, you don’t know, you know, if you knew how people love my yoga pants, you wouldn’t say that. Guys look at me on the street 10 times more than with my usual outfits ! I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

Note from the Gaga : I swear it’s totally true, I myself can’t believe it but my walks from home to my yoga studio are like Impulse moments (its a French ad, check the video at the end of this post). Men can’t stop staring at me and construction workers stop working and taxis slow down around me. I don’t know exactly what signal my yoga outfit sends out (I have to ask my mom to analyze that asap) but if you are single put on your yoga pants and go walk in the street ! High heels, skirts, red lipstick ? Pfffff, who cares ?

“I am telling you, Scott, if you knew how people love my yoga pants, you wouldn’t say that. Guys look at me on the street 10 times more than with my usual outfits ! I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

A few hours later, we were on the street together, on the way to go grab a coffee. He was dressed as a proper Sartorialist, I was wearing my shameful yoga pants, jumping around him with my sneakers and laughing at his funny faces.

“Look, let me walk ten steps ahead of you and look at the guys’ reactions, and it’s going to change the way you look at yoga pants forever !”

And I jumped ten steps ahead of him.

That’s how, suddenly not being close to me, he was able to witness with his own eyes the Mysterious Allure Of The Yoga Pants.

…

And that’s also how I traumatized him. Each time I leave the appartment with my yoga pants on, I can see the shadow of worry on his face…

EPILOGUE : (To reassure my mom) everything’s good, I am back to normal outfits (I even wear shoes with hard soles !)(I mean if you consider Minnetonkas to have hard soles) Oh, and everybody has a right to have down times, right ?

——-

*My huuuuge laziness.

** Well, you know, I am my own boss, so when I say morning, sometimes I also mean afternoon, too. Depends.

*** Sweatpants, big scarf and a huge Starbucks cup in my hands to make them look tiny*

**** Usually at that level my mother (who is a psychiatrist) would tell me that this is a pre-depressionary state and kick my butt to get back to normal dressing.

———-

* This joke was stolen from the Uggtricin vaccine.

… And here is the Impulse ads. That music. Those looks. So funny.

Kids, I’m totally becoming a fashion pro. Get this :
Saturday, in the middle of August, sauna-esque heat in New York, there I am, Gaga, heading out for a winter shopping mission.

So I’ll stop you right there. All the girls I take photos of during fashion weeks are gonna say, “Well, what’s the big deal? That’s normal as can be. You’re even a little late little one!”

Still, it’s hard for me to consider it normal to get to buy a wool jacket, cashmere pants and an angora scarf on the 28th of August. But I came across Dianna at Barneys who showed the big wool winter coat and the furry shoes she’d just bought and I finally gave in. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this is the perfect time to buy a fur hat, you never know.

And I need a snowboard too. It’s definitely time to order my snowboard for February.

Okay… So back to me in huntress mode. Up to the fifth floor at Barney’s, Stella McCartney, finally, ah, awesome. I love her collection. I see the coolest parka, perfect for a snowy January. I try it on, oh goodness, it’s so beautiful, and then the salesgirl corners me and says :

“JUST SO YOU KNOW, THAT PARKA IS THE ONLY ONE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. And we have it because (and yeah, I stopped being able to understand her here, she was talking so fast, so here’s what I imagined she said to me) – Stella knew that you were coming today and she designed it just for you – and so that’s why we’re the only people in the world to have one and it’s the last one, IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.”

Whoa. How cool is that? The only one, IN THE WORLD. But as Scott wasn’t quite convinced by the salesgirl he told me Garance, look, if it really was made just for you, come back in three days and it’ll be here waiting for you. I listened to him because honestly, he’s a really smart guy and the parka was really close to $2,000.

So we continued our little journey down Madison Ave, following intently my little list of to-buys that I concocted – First time in my life I’ve ever done that. But now I have this new fear of waiting until it’s cold to buy a coat and then hear the salesgirls all laugh at me saying, A coat? In September. We don’t have any more of those since August, ahahah*!

On my list, there were some pointy ballet slippers… with studs, from Valentino. Kids, if you haven’t been living under a rock, then I’m sure you haven’t missed them. They’re in all the magazines, ALL OF THEM. So I went to Valentino and asked for them, and this is what I got:

The ballet slippers? The ones in all the editorials? Ahahah*, they haven’t gotten here yet, and we’ve already got a waiting-list longer than you can ever imagine.

Ah yes, I forgot. Get it published in a magazine and sales go through the roof.

Pfffff. To console myself, I stopped at Intermix, a New York multi-brand shop. I saw an entire section of Stella McCartney and, you’re not going to believe me, but I’m not kidding here :

Three other parkas just like my parka that couldn’t be found anywhere else IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.

…

I let out a yelp, I grabbed it and then poof! No longer did I have any desire to buy it. The fact that it wasn’t at all unique (but what was that salesgirl at Barney’s thinking?)(Wait… Maybe she WASN’T a salesgirl at Barney’s… Ouuuh, craaazyyy.) made it – almost – a little dull.

And there you have it! I tried to get myself together and become a killer fashion pro, but I’m still trapped in the endless cycle of supply and demand. Scott winked at me.

Ahahah*! I still have many miles to go before I’m a fashion pro.

———–

PS 1 (No, not the bag. You’re all obsessed.) = This post has no rhyme or reason, at the beginning, I wanted to give you my point of view on the back to school trends, but yeah, maybe next time…

PS 2 = Don’t worry, I got a lot of pretty things. 80% of them I won’t be able to put on before November, but they’re pretty none the less, and all lined up nicely in my closet. You could even say it looks like a shop — a little chaotic, the shop.

PS 3 = New York Zara is terrible. It’s hard to get over it’s European cousin. And harder on my wallet, too, seeing as I have to live with Chloé now. Pfff! Depressing…

————–

* Ahahah ! Stupid bitch.

In terms of city bags, there are a many schools of thought.
From the most comfortable to the almost impossible to wear :

1/

The backpack : It’s so ugly it’s beautiful, you wouldn’t understand.
The Epitome : That padded Chanel bag with two giant gold Cs, on loan from the 80s, they don’t make it anymore, which makes it even more trendy. (Personal note = Violaine, whenever you can send me that list of words that you are forbidden in your magazine, that’d be great. I think I’m gonna need it. And if you have any suggestions as to how to replace them, I’ll need those too.)

Ok, so in short… Practical, yes, but too trendy for me.

2/

The messenger bag : I’m cool. So cool. The lower I wear it, the cooler I am.
The Epitome : The Besace Upla. The US army bag.

I don’t really know what to think here, except for the fact that you can’t wear it if you have any chest whatsoever. Hope you don’t mind that I don’t draw this one out.

3/

The little shoulder bag : I’m a beautiful woman. And intelligent. Rich too. I don’t even need to work seeing as I can’t fit anything at all in my bag.
The Epitome : The Céline Classic. The Chanel 2.55.

Don’t wear it on a accross your body, oh man! It’s all in the way you wear it that gives this bag all its charm. Just put it on your shoulder, so 70s, very Céline, very Chloé, very Belle Du Seigneur, so now.

4/

The Shopping Tote : I have a crazy life. I do way too much. If you want we could set up camp here tonight as I have every thing we’d need in my bag, here, even some sausages.
The Epitome : Wicker bags. The Hermès Birkin bag.

Its so great in all its incarnations from the cheapest the most luxurious, except for me, bags are like nature : doesn’t stay empty long. And so it ends up weighing 50 pounds. You have it just in hand at first when it’s all light, and then it gets heavier and heavier, and you try to carry it on your shoulder because you think its going to tear up your hand. Have you ever tried to fit your shoulder in a Birkin handle? Or a classic wicker bag handle? Ahah.

Warning. After this line you get to bags that are a little tough to pull off.

———————————————————-

5/

The handbag. I’m a woman with a career. Sometimes, it’s hard.
The Epitome : The Speedy by Vuitton.

You carry it in hand, carelessly, sometimes you toss it on your shoulder. Every thing is good in how you carry it except for version 5.2, SO 2005.

5.2/

Wearing it on the elbow : Have you seen my bag? Because you should’ve. I just spent a month’s salary on it.
The Epitome : The Speedy by Vuitton. The Stephen Sprouse version. The Motorcycle by Balenciaga. And all this pre-recession opulence.
NO. Even if you’re sometimes tired of carrying your bag in your hand, your bag making its way onto the crook of your elbow, in 2010, it’s absolutely forbidden, especially with your fist out. Even you’re tired, you have every right to version 5.3/, MY VERSION haha.

5.3/

Handbag on the shoulder : I’m so cool. Sofia Coppola made a bag just for me. It’s a speedy, but much snobbier, and with a shoulder strap. BUT I NEVER USE THE SHOULDER STRAP TO WEAR IT LIKE A MESSENGER BAG, WHAT’S UP WITH THAT?
The Epitome : Do I really need to repeat myself again?

Warning. Bags that can be hazardous to your mental health are below this line.
Not easy to wear : you spend your whole life thinking about them.

————————————————————

6/
The clutch : My life? You can see it on Purple Diary. My life, is nightlife. You have a smoke? My Marlboros don’t fit in my clutch, sorry.
The Epitome : Vintage baby. Curse yourself for finding one. Oh and if you want to hold your glass and shake someone’s hand, put it between your legs, let your friend hold it, forget it on the bar, but you’ll curse yourself!

7 and downfall of this entire post /
The Bag So Bizarly Simple That You Have to Make a Drawing so Your Readers Understand, Like a Giant Supermarket Bag but It’s Leather Python Print : I’m so in love with Phoebe Philo. No matter what she does, I want to buy it.
The Epitome : This Céline bag up top that I saw yesterday in the shop in Milan.

Huge, so subject to the weight problem (see number 4), and impossible to wear anywhere except on the tips of your fingers. Could you find a less practical bag? Should I buy it?

Okay, so this post is entirely too long, I had to stop my literary impetus seeing as I sat down in the hotel café, it was tea-time and by the time I raised my head, everyone was attacking the Gavi and mini-pizzas. So I know I’m missing a lot of types of bags, I know, I know. So if you have other ideas as to how to wear a bag, don’t hesitate to pass it along. As for me, I’m after some Gavi.

And I know, I’m missing a chapter about pouch bags, I know, I know.

But they deserve a post unto themselves, so don’t think you’re getting off that easy.

AND ABOVE ALL ELSE, DON’T FORGET WE DON’T WEAR BAGS ON THE ELBOW ANYMORE, OK? OH NO, NEVER!

Translation : Tim Sullivan