Category Archives: Fashion

Au mois d’avril

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…on ne se découvre pas d’un fil*. That’s French for “you can’t trust the weather.” The quote defines the uncertainty as an April thing, but that was before global warming. These days it may be cold and rainy on any given day of the year, even deep into the summer months, never the less, at some point all of Paris seems to let loose and start listening the rest of the saying, “Au mois de mai, fait se qui te plaît.**” The summer wardrobe comes out of the closet, weather and common sense be damned.

As a Californian, who never had two distinct seasonal wardrobes before moving to Montréal as a young bride, and as something of a clothes horse, the changing of the wardrobe is like Christmas time. Discovering long lost garments that I adore is like opening the presents under the tree as I joyfully wrap winter boots into their dust bags, putting them to rest for the months ahead.

Despite the Old Wive’s warning, I jump the gun every year. Like an impatient 7 year old who wakes Mom and Dad before the sunrise on Christmas morning, every April, after about two days of blissful spring warmth, I haul down the summer clothing and put away my winter wear. Invariably three days later I can be found caught out in the cold, shivering me timbers and cursing my impatience for summer.

This year was no exception, last weekend with Mr French off somewhere in the far west and Em with her Dad, I set to work early. Early in the morning and early in the season. The sad thing is, that the last two summers have been so abysmal that it seems to make little difference. I’ve now got enough summer sweaters, pants and closed shoes that there seems to be little risk I’ll freeze to death. Lately, only the colors change from one season to the next and the fun stuff, like light linen dresses and sheer blouses hang undisturbed in the closet, waiting for their return into winter storage. This morning’s bright sun gave me hope. Maybe we’ll get a summer after all.

* In April, don’t take off a thread.

** In May, do as you please.

Working Girl

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For the next two months I will be working onsite. Instead of getting up each morning and rolling directly from my bed to my couch, where I sit with the computer on my lap writing through out the day, I actually have to leave my home, take the metro and talk with human beings. It thrills me to little bits and pieces. I love the energy of working on a creative team the dynamic exchange of ideas. And even more thrilling, I have to get dressed each morning.

Not only do I have to dress, but I have to dress to work with a room full of stylish Parisiennes, who even more interestingly work in the fashion industry. Each morning is a challenge putting together the right palette, matching my shoes and getting the accessories just right. Or wrong, because often I miss a trick or, three. I’ve lost practice at dressing to be seen every day. A few weeks ago I even slipped down to the convenience store wearing my plaid flannel pajama bottoms, letting my inner Californian out for a stroll. It was deliciously liberating, but I felt a little insane. Its is simply not the done thing.

Today, I made quite a stir wearing white jeans on a defiantly grey spring day. Eyes popped, comments were made. I whipped out my handy quotes of the unquestionably fashionable Inès de la Fressange, explain her suggestion that white jeans are perfect for warming up cold winter days and I am fairly confident that tomorrow no less than three girls will be wearing their whites, at least that is what they’ve told me.

Mr French lays out his clothing before going to sleep every evening. I have tried that, but invariably, the day breaks and I “feel” like wearing something different, So its usually a rather pointless exercise in putting away clothes I won’t be wearing for the day, while still hunting down what I will wear.

I start with a garment or accessory that has been calling my name. This morning it was a pair of cream colored suede Frye boots. Perfect with my white jeans, and then an off-white pullover. Notice a theme going on here? Monochrome! There is a rarely spoken fashion rule that reigns in this city; never wear more than three colors at once. It is a hint to their subtle elegance. I don’t always follow this “rule”, but knowing the rules helps a girl break them with style!

Because there is a huge leap from monochrome to tri-tone, I added my über practical military jacket for some green to bring out my eyes, threw on my grey coat with a white bulky knit scarf and I was good to go. I have the reputation of always wearing one thing just slightly off each day. Today it was E’s Lalique heart necklace (sorry E, it’s the first time I’ve borrowed it, I swear!) which was just a bit too bright for the rest of the outfit. But I don’t care. I had fun playing dress up and I look forward to tomorrow’s fashion faux pas.

 

 

 

Friday@Flore

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Friday@Flore is at work in the ‘burbs, but last Sunday was a gloriously beautiful day. The first of the year, and one of the few in the last 12 months. All of Paris was out reveling in the feeling of the air against their skin. It. was. glorious.

The photos are not great. I had left my camera at home but was so inspired by all the stunning fashion looks that I popped out my iPhone and starting tactile-ing away.

Everyone was seeking out the shade, making it even harder ot get decent shots, but proving how long spring is taking, as the trees remain bare!

I love this woman’s look. Mental note to self; keep an eye out for pleated khakis, ascooped neck indian blouse and a pair of orange shoes!

A un BON WEEKEND tout le monde !

Fashioning Fashion

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I have heard that there is a fantastic exhibition of Haute Couture at the Hôtel de Ville right now, and I can hardly wait to go, but first I wanted to see Fashioning Fashion at the Union des Art Decoratifs in the Louvre. Why first? Logistics. Sunday was the last day the show would be in Paris and the first day I had time to see it. Turns out this was particularly lucky as the show displays European fashion trends from 1750 until just after the era Mr Worth sailed to Paris from London and because the first Haute Couturier, ending in 1915.

Women were caged

Fashioning Fashion was in town directly from California, where the Los Angeles County Museum of Art has an extraordinary collection thanks to the generosity of two very astute, influential collectors, Martin Kamer and Wolfgang Ruf. Seeing the sumptuous fabrics, exquisite needle work and intricate beading made it easy to see why these men had been so passionate about the dress-wear. The details are captivating.

And so were the explanations. In totally un-Syvia like fashion I read every single one! They’d explain the subversive revolutionary messages in a vest, or nostalgically describe how the gold embroidery and moiré silk would reflect the candlelight at dinner party. You could almost see the effect.

19th century beach bunny!

And they discuss, or rather allude to the constraints of dress for women at the time. When you see those large Marie Antoinette gowns, you can imagine the cage that created that shape. What I’d never realized was that the cage was full of undercoats helping hold everything up, making walking something of a slog. I also learned why the ladies need so much help getting dressed. In period films you often see a lady being tied into her corset, but you never see the following scenes when she is actually sewn in to her bodice! A century later the frames that held out the hoop skirts took advantage of new technology so that Madame could move, at last. But not for long, because along came the bustle which seriously shortened one’s footsteps, make the tennis outfits and riding costumes of the time something of an oxymoron.

 

 

The Dress, part 2

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Then we really went wild, jumped into a taxi and headed off for the Faubourg Saint Honoré. We entered boutique after boutique; it was as if time had stopped and we were running through a frozen film set. People came to life as we approached, everyone else blurring into the background. I tried on a slinky skintight sexier-than-peeled-grapes dress that looked great on me, and I relished watching Mr French eat me alive with his eyes (thank you for that, Mr Raf Simons). Almost everything seemed to fit, and as sales person after sales person entered the dressing rooms, I quite pleased I happened to be wearing my very best purple silk lingerie for the day.

Then we arrived at Prada. I was never much of a fan, finding the large metal logos on her handbags such a turn-off that I never looked beyond to the clothing. But the shop was there, and we were having fun, so we walked in and I asked the burly, rather intimidating security guard to point us towards dresses.

Downstairs, a lovely lady named Magali, asked if she could help us. I explained our challenge and she set to work, bringing me dress after dress. I did not know this at the time, but Magali is an image consultant, and spends her free time helping Parisiennes learn to dress. It was as if a good fairy had waved her wand, each dress was more beautiful than the next. It is no surprise that Miuccia Prada was nominated for the Design Awards for her spring 2013 collection. And she designed the dresses for Baz Lurhmann’s The Great Gatsby, adding a little capsule collection for the event. I was spoiled with an exceptionally rich collection.

I tried on a sublime finely knit black silk tunic with 1920′s fringe on the bottom that swayed seductively with every step. Then came a silk taffeta princess’ dress in rich blue with large green and ivory dots, a tight bodice and full skirt. A fun, 1950’s inspired white-trimmed black dress with a full skirt, v-neck and sleeves that rested just off the shoulders, followed by a shiny black silk dress with kimono accents that ended about mid-calf. It all fit, and it all liked good, I could tell by the look in Mr French’s eye as he sat there patiently waiting for me to don one dress after the other.

Finally, I tried on a grey silk dress that had been cut like it might have been made for Joan from the hit show Mad Men. Steel grey and sleeveless with a long pencil skirt, a fitted bodice and a rounded scooped-back opening nearly to my waist. The fabric was airbrushed with a large patch of white that through the skirt and across the bodice where some mauve Japanese style flowers printed on to the silk taffeta. Seeing it on there was no doubt. We had found The Dress.

 

The Dress, part 1

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Last week I referred to a certain shopping trip for a special dress, but I was so distracted by the prostitute scene at a swanky hotel that I forgot to talk about The Dress. Or rather, Shopping for The Dress.

Between the two of us Mr French and I have five children (I know, this is an odd segueway, but bear with me). This is probably not the first time I mention this overwhelming fact. Five is a pretty big number, and it amazes me that we are responsible for all those little souls. They’re mostly grown, but we’re seven, so there is plenty of turbulence; emergency hospital visits, existential angst, growing pains and ski accidents are just a few of the bumps that have come our way in the few months. But right now, this week, everyone is doing ok. It’s amazing, and we are both savouring the moment, which is why Saturday was so damn fun.

We headed out the door to run errands; the cobbler, tailor, dry cleaner and the stationary seller were all on our list. As I Iocked the door, Mr French asked if I had brought the window dimensions along, we really should look into getting some curtains. I had not, but then again, neither had he.

Our errands brought us to the Bon Marche, and after getting ink for his pen, he suggested a visit to the clothing department for The Dress. I need a dress because we have been invited to a dinner party. In a palazzo. In Venice. Tenue de Soirée is what the very sober, elegantly engraved invitation read. I had called the hostess, and she had confirmed that she’d be wearing a long dress.

My first thought had been Yves Saint Laurent’s tuxedo jacket. I mean doesn’t everyone immediately think of the YSL tuxedo jacket when having a fashion emergency? No? Well, I’ve been thinking of this jacket for years, and this was the perfect once-in-a-lifetime excuse. I know it’s not a long dress, but it is THE Style Icon of my generation. I went to my nearest YSL and asked to try one on. Again. I really have been dreaming about this jacket for years. Last year Hedi Slimane was hired as the new designer for the label, and since my last visit he had completely changed the cut of the jacket. It looked horrible on me! I was devastated. In a relative way, of course, but illusions were shattered. The man, who I stopped trusting when he dropped the Yves from Saint Laurent, has earned the moniker Slime-man in my head. His choice of Courtney Love for the new « face » of YSL merely confirms my convictions that he’s the wrong guy for the job.

I would not be getting my dream garment. Not wanting to spend a fortune on a dress I’d only wear twice or thrice in this lifetime, I was determined to visit my old friends at Reciproque, a consignment shop that has a room of gowns. My friend Out and About in Paris had an even better suggestion: La Femme Ecarlate, a gown rental service. But everytime I’d suggest a visit to either shop, Mr French would simply grunt and head to an art exhibit.

So we were looking, but I was not shopping. Because the party is in Italy and there may actually be a spot of sunshine, I was hoping to wear a bit of color. At a department with new, international designers we spotted a dress we both liked by someone from Lebanon. And then another, and another. Enough choices that it was worth disturbing the saleswoman to try on a few pieces. I went into the dressing room as she brought me the wrong dress, and then one that was two sizes too small, before confessing she didn’t have any of the dresses in my size. This made me feel fat and kind of grumpy.

Around the corner Alexander McQueen had a gorgeous tuxedo jacket with exquisite tailoring, the lapels integrated into the design. Even better, there was a dress version of the design. The designer, or artistic director as they are now known, Sarah Burton, knows women and our bodies. I slipped into the dress, and it was a perfect fit. I liked they way it felt, they way it moved and the way Mr French looked at me wearing it. But it was black and stopped at the knees, and I didn’t really see the point since I already have something similar. At least I wasn’t feeling so grumpy any more.

Then we really went wild, jumped into a taxi and headed off for the Faubourg Saint Honoré…

 

Reciproque - 93 rue de la Pompe, 16e - 01 47 04 30 28

La Femme Ecarlate - 42, avenue Bosquet, 7e - 01 45 51 08 44

The Closet

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Somebody recently googled “in every Parisian’s closet” and landed on my blog. I’m sure I’ve written this sentence one or sixty times, but I have never actually produced a post about what I imagine to be in every Parisienne’s closet. So I thought I’d put it in writing. But, despite dwarf sized apartments with miniature closets, the list is long, très long. Especially when we start talking shoes.

The list is so long, in fact, it requires a book, not a post, so today I’m sticking to spring 2012. If you want the whole enchilada, I suggest consulting Inès de la Fressange’s book, but be forewarned; her list includes grandmother’s diamonds and vintage Hermès bags, so its not what the French would call accessible to every woman. Rest assured, this list is more reasonable;

1/ A military shirt. I found one at the military shop at Montparnasse and has a large, black ink HS (hors service) stamped on the back. At 20€, it was a easy purchase for all the girls chez nous. But, even the designers like Hartford are getting in on the action, re-vamping the classic for those who want a fresher look.

2/ A dark blue blazer. Some like them in linen for the summer, but usually they’re just a light weight wool. They’re worn by everyone, of all ages, even teens are happy to be sporting them.

3/ White or colored jeans. Denim blue is oh so very yesterday this summer, although I have no doubts it will be back for the fall. It is particularly obvious this spring because the weather has been too abysmal for the skirts and dresses we’re all wishing we could wear.

4/ Low ankle boots. Gotta have ‘em. With a dress, with jeans and even with shorts (if you’re young enough, or brave enough), looking like a cowboy from the Camargue is definitely a fashion faut this spring. Of course, we don’t have a lot of options as torential spring showers keep flip flops, or any kind of sandal from being a serious option.

5/ The Vanessa Bruno bag. That’s the canvas bag with sequin straps that you see on every other Parisienne as soon as spring has sprung. My first year in Paris, I was totally mystified when I opened my front door on that first warm day to discover that everyone was sporting the same design. I became convinced that I’d missed the national spring fashion bulletin. It has been popular for years now and will probably be so for many years to come. Boring, but tried, true and oh, so practical.

Perhaps, as the season progresses, the sun will come out and I’ll be able to add a bit of color, a swooshy skirt, or a lovely dress to the list, but for now I’m staying covered up.

Friday@Flore

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Hitting the streets a bit late with this post today, because Friday@Flore has left the café and headed to the Tuileries gardens where the Issey Miyaki show was going out on to the catwalk in the “tente ephemère” that city officials construct and de-construct each season, for Paris Fashion Week.

The designers are unveiling their Fall 2013 collections just as the kids in Paris head off on their winter break. Having a kid in Paris means that I’ll be missing most of the shows as we head off to the mountains and I do my Mom thing. I know, “We’re going to the alps” sounds oh, so, chic, but last time we went to the this resort I came down from the slopes in an ambulance and spent more time in the hospital than at the hotel!

I am in town long enough to attend at least one show, so I bundled up and headed out to see what the designer of Pleats Please had in mind for us. As always happens during Paris Fashion Week, I saw some really great street fashion along the way.

More than previous seasons, I was shocked by the uniformity of it all. There is definitely an accent color that is “IN” ladies and gentleman, with a second color trailing close behind.

As a pale skinned red head, this does not bode well for me, but everyone else looked simply ab fab in their quirky mustard yellows and warm reds.

 

 

 

 

 

Everyone except the star of the day for me, Mr Bill Cunningham, the street fashion reporter for the New York Times and my idol. He was wearing the cooler blues and greys. I am not usually great at recognizing celebrities and I don’t recall ever having seen the man, beyond the tiny photo of him on his bike that they use for the online NYTimes, but I recognized him immediately. And then I stalked him, noticing what he was photographing, and how, adding a street fashion master class to my day at Paris Fashion Week. I can now head for the slopes, visions of silks and laces slaloming in my head.

 

Inès sez…

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Inès sez…
To heat things up this winter wear a lacy bra under your cardigan, its the sure fire way to keep the gentlemen around you feeling a little hot under the collar.

Inès is the face of l’Oreal Rivatlift, for heaven’s sake! She’s fifty! I know women who believe that turning fifty is going to be the beginning of the end, but Inès knows better. She’s French so she knows, unflinchingly that there is no age for being hot, it is all about style and owning your sexuality. Even my daughters’ 72 year old French Mamita turns men’s heads with her elegant chignon and pencil skirts and winter is no reason to cover up.

This understanding is one of the things I adoooore about living in Paris. I don’t have to go to workshops to remember that being sexy is a great, healthy part of life, I’ve got women like Inès and the ads on bus stops to remind me that there is no age for workin’ it!

 

Friday@Flore

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SMILE everybody, it’s a snow day!!!

These photos were taken over the weekend, when it really was snowing outside and blustery and beautiful. Today we’re back to DIOR grey skies with sub zero temperatures.

Loving the gloves. All that slush and nasty wet stuff on the ground means most parisiennes are wearing practical shoes. Does not happen often folks, so to lighten the moment, fun little touches like these gloves are being slipped on.

Sitting in the Flore enjoying a “noisette” that I dosed with a healthy serving of Mr French’s chocolat chaud, I noticed a lot of gorgeous handbags. I don’t know if this is because all the black coats guaranteed we’d see the bags, or if it is because everyone is desperate for a splash of fashion, which is not easy when bundled up like the Michelin Man.

 

And just like the crowd leaving the Chanel Haute Couture show, St Germain’s golden youth was getting their fur on. Even the boys.

 

 

 

 

 

I loved this lady’s snow day attire, a splash of instant sunshine. I am sure that she has read the poem, “When I’m an old lady I’ll wear purple.” She may have even scoffed at the thought of ever being an old lady herself, despite already being old enough to be my grand mother.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

People were staying close together, supporting each other when the going got difficult and generating some mutual warmth. It was a loverly day for a stroll.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had to stand out in the cold much longer than usual to get these shots, as more people than usual stayed inside. But looking at them now I feel like maybe I need to be thinking about the roll of fur trim in my wardrobe. And I’m going continue wearing that chunky wool scarf that M just knit for me me last week, it is more in than I ever imagined!

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