Not only is this cape jacket beautiful, but the idea of wearing two jackets, one on top of the other, it’s just genius, especially with these colors.

Other than that… I am in Stockholm.  It’s snowing!  It’s dark all day long!  But no worries, it’s actually quite nice. I saw my first runway shows today, the ambiance makes you think a little of Hyères, It’s relaxing… And everyone knows everyone, which, at the end of a packed day, makes for a nice restaurant in the center of Stockholm full of people talking about the future of fashion.

Bon.

Tomorrow, I’ll try to come back with some photos, fresh ones, still wet with snowflakes.  But for now, I leave you with Nathalie and her beautiful combination of coats.  Will that tide you over?

Translation : Tim Padraic Sullivan.

I love the concept of abstract inspiration that The Sartorialist often talks about. A fashion photo, whether it comes from a magazine or the streets, is most likely an idea, an emotion rather than a catalogue of things to buy.

Stop. Sometimes too, a photo’s just something that gives you the urge to blow off your credit card in a shopping spree.

Whoa, what happened to me wasn’t the slightest abstract experience at all. This fur hat and most especially, the boots below, are those things that I really wanted to grab and go running away from their wearers. And put them on together, which doesn’t quite pass as a good idea.

Enough with the romantic, sappy notions, okay? Sometimes, you just have to take action.

It’s exactly what I just did. I…um…

I actually took the pleasure of politely asking where those gorgeous flat fur boots came from, as the lovely pair was meant to be a refuge of comfort and warmth in the heart of winter, a cross between my grandma’s furry Moon Boots at Val d’Isère in 76 and… Non, I can’t bear to say its name, too horrible… The words just won’t come out of my mouth….er, um, ooh, ah, uuuuuuugg. Pfiou, that was hard. Okay, Uggs, for lack of a better comparison.

I asked and heard it well and good. Well, I only got what I deserved: an answer.

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… La veste en jean de mes 15 ans ?

C’est la question que se posent à peu près toutes mes copines. Et Lauren confirme, elle a tout simplement ressorti sa Levi’s du lycée, et c’est trop parfait.

Le denim porté en haut revient, en chemise ou en petite veste. Vous vous souvenez ? Je vous en avais parlé ici.

Ma Levi’s, je l’avais usée jusqu’à la corde puis jetée sans un regard un jour de grand ménage vertical. Me voilà donc réduite à courir les friperies pour en retrouver une. Et ce n’est pas une quête facile : neuve, elle est trop neuve; années 80, ce qu’on trouve le plus en friperie, elle est trop bouffante, et puis pour le reste, les couleurs de jeans, vous savez ce que c’est, tout est dans la nuance…

Mais je la trouverai, ahah ! (<— cri de guerre)

Et sinon, notez le pantalon, un Peter Bertsch. Peter Bertsch, vous vous souvenez, le gagnant du prix 123 à Hyères l’année dernière ! (et oui encore et toujours Hyères, tiens d’ailleurs la vidéo est toujours dans ma sidebar). Il a sorti sa mini-collection, qui était vendue dans un tout petit corner 123 à la Villa Noailles, et c’est d’ailleurs là que Lauren l’a trouvé. Son pantalon, pas Peter. Ah, et pour en savoir plus sur le style de Lauren, il y a le podcast de Punky b !

Encore une veste en jean miraculée, une Wrangler celle là. Isabelle l’a depuis ses quatorze ans, ça se voit (notez le jean carrément déchiré à l’épaule) et c’est ça qui est cool. Je suis très, très fan du délavage. Je veux le même, peut-être même un poil plus clair.

Je note aussi que vu le côté assez près du corps, ça rend vraiment bien avec les bas bouffants dont on est toutes folles cet été.

Et maintenant je vais aller copier 100 fois ces lignes : ne jamais rien jeter, ne jamais rien jeter, ne jamais rien jeter. Pas même ma grande robe en tissus d’ameublement léopard de l’année dernière ? Non. Pas même.

Bonne journée !

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Ma dernière photo à Hyères, sur la plage. Si seulement je me souvenais du prénom de cette mannequin !

Ce matin, j’ai juste envie de vous parler de… D’un truc qui m’arrive et qui me met en joie. Qui a commencé sur l’autoroute en Italie, au moment où mon téléphone a sonné et où, vu comme je conduis bien, je n’aurais jamais dû répondre.

Mais tout free-lance vous le dira. Règle numéro 1 : un numéro inconnu, tu réponds. Voilà.

Je décroche donc, légèrement stressée par la circulation, et j’entends une voix, bien connue elle par contre. Soudain, j’ai l’impression d’être dans une vidéo. Ou à la télé… Je ne sais plus.

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There are realizations that won’t ever come to us. A hundred miles separate me today from Hyères so I can amuse myself in waking up this already, well, nearly fading flower.

I’m back in Paris and all I have left are some snapshots, observations and chronicles on imbibing the new cool. I’ll show them to you as we go along and afterwards, we turn a new leaf and  lead ourselves to new adventures that are, I’m afraid, more in tune with city life.

+ We are already aware that the it-shoes have taken over the it-bags, as strikingly proven on the beaches of Hyères. When pebbles threaten to ruin your leather heels, take off your shoes and carry them with you. That’s the latest chic alternative.

+ Never ever go to parties organized by the staff at Baron.*

+ Melvin Sokolsky took all our breath away, leaving my mouth wide open at the sight of his brilliant exhibit. And the way he eats gambas, too.** The genius can be extremely human sometimes. It doesn’t make him any less of a genius. But he’s human, after all.

+ Reveal your intimate life to the first person you meet. This is very summer of 2008.

+ Take an old rotten, ratty and especially baggy pair of jeans, cut mid-thigh and roll up. Voilà, you’re now the coolest girl of the bunch.

+ Riccardo Tisci*** is way more good-looking than Christian Lacroix.

+ Invite 200 people for dinner at the Villa Noailles, make them wait and starve and finally at 11:30 pm, serve sea-urchins. Put them aside while watching their faces contort in disgust and pick fights everywhere. Following the arrival of the plat de résistance plus your choice of exquisite pastry  for dessert, the battle among fashionistas can never be more delightful.****

+ Talk about Marc Jacobs’ fuck-you attitude.

+ Do like everybody else. Be accessible, kind, cool and smiling. This is how you behave during the summer. Add some eyewear, ditch the hairbrush and you’re an it-girl. Simple as that.

+ At all times, go barefoot this summer.

+ Information counts for what it’s worth. I bought a thin gold chain to hold my glasses.

+ Loïc Prigent, love and admiration renewed.

So there. And my suggestion for next year’s activities, I’d like the festival to last for two more weeks than the usual. As such, there’d no longer be trees on the villa’s parking lot and there’d no longer be talks about sea-urchins and gambas. We’d take away the beach pebbles and see Daren again. Also, that would teach me how to travel light yet  fall short on eating light, because, um, well, you know that’s a hard habit to break! Bisous!

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* The Baron is a happening spot in Paris that gets much attention. A little too much, that is.
** Melvin Sokolsky does not know how to eat gambas and that’s quite amusing to see.
***Tisci is the brilliant designer of Givenchy who succeeded Lacroix as president of the jury at Hyères this year and who’s a lot nicer.
****Sea urchins are generally served with a plate, something that was missing at the buffet in Hyères. With a small knife, you eat the eggs (the red substance). You can put them on bread. Without the knife and the plate…. well, what do you know?

__________________

Hello!

I wink as I tell you that honestly, this isn’t something I do on purpose, the models just happen to run into me. Only a matter of timing, I guess. I was about to take a walk along the tiny port of Santa Margarita, not in the least frustrated by the total absence of fashion around me, sniffing in the air, when suddenly a whiff of ‘cool’ breezed past my shoulders.

Bon, en fait, it was a cloud of cigarette smoke from a team that just wrapped up their photo shoot for Cosmo Italy. I managed to steal their model for two seconds—all the time it took me to get my heels tangled (yes) in a fishing net, fall in the arms of the model, take her photo and completely forget to ask her name.

Aaaaaah, really, we’re never serious at 17!

As for my age, I thank everyone for my birthday which well and good, took place yesterday. All those years of saying oh-my-God-oh-my-God-oh-my-God-give-me-Botox-give-me-an-adult-life-give-me-a-Kelly-bag…(?) only to realize that it’s no good. I might as well convince myself to have the opposite. It’s truly cool to grow up and get old.

There you have it, the transcedental philosophy of the day. Big kisses and happy, happy weekend!

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Hello! Here are my latest photos taken from Hyères with two or three things to remember before leaving for some editorial assignment this first weekend of May

1 – Must have a holey shirt.

That’s according to Emmanelle Alt in La Mode La Mode La Mode and if that’s what she said, then I’d take her word for it. And if Chris, above, chimed in to agree, I’d rush to the nearest shop. As I didn’t have a tee tattered with holes, I went to AmApp to buy a super low-cut tank top, the kind that would get you ten new friends soon as you bend down. I hooked the shirt to the tire and rolled my car on broken glass. As a result, said shirt would make me gain ten new friends per second, no bending down required. A perfect wear for summer.

2 – Must have a head gear.

Personally, I love the cap. But I passed up the chance because I <del>was too old</del> had too many accessories on me, although I’d like to wear a Panama hat. I almost bought one yesterday but it was too small. I asked if they had my size, and they said, “Yes, of course, just make an order and you’ll get it in six months.”

I said, “What the hell!” (yes, my Italian is slowly coming back).
Supposing the item would come (6 months, say we count in Hermès years and probably calculate in Hermès currency, so we pretty much pay in gold), I went on asking further, “How much is it?”

“997 Euros”
Not 9.97 Euros, not 99.7 Euros, no. It’s 997 Euros.
Bon, at that price, I’m better off traveling to Central America myself and searching for my own Panama hat, right?

3 – Must have a scarf.

Aaaaah, but what the heck are you talking about, Garance?  You think we’d expect you to bring the scarf? (No, but whatever.).
Look girls, you know well that we’re in an extremely advanced fashion arena. While the scarf touches the chests of all the young privileged girls, it’s time we tackle the issue of the after-scarf.

We had argued over this case in Hyères with Géraldine and Géraldine and I have the answer. So, so indeed, what exactly do we do with scarves, huh?

In any case, Portofino is simply divine. The sun plays hide-and-seek with the clouds, giving off an intense and dramatic light on the ifs that dominate the hill. The birds sing, the sea is calm and the fishermen make a catch that will bring tagliatelle al vongole to the table. My calorie counter is totally useless. The place is strikingly beautiful that my mouth hangs wide open. In Italy, everybody takes advantage of your moments of relaxation to prepare you delicious pasta, but you did well in advising me to chuck all diets out the door from the moment I didn’t manage to remove a tree inside my (huge) rental car.

I leave you to ponder on the scarf issue. So for a couple of days, while waiting, I’ll try, as in try hard to raise my arm—a bit higher, the highest it could reach—to take a few snapshots. After all, dear children, Italy’s such a beauty to behold.

Panama can wait, though.

Ciao!

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