I'M BAAAAAACK

Whenever I say that in my head it sounds so sinister and Freddie Kruger-esque(?) I scare myself. So I've been away, to France as per usual, and now that I am back I fully intend to post lots of things I've been thinking about whilst by the pool doing my best Ray Winstone. Lisa Love (of Hills acclaim) once famously said "France changes you" - well really she said Paris but who's splitting hairs it's pretty much the same thing - and I've been contemplating if this is, in fact, true. As far as I can tell, apart from gaining 10 litres of red, 500g of Golden Virginia, some nude leather espadrilles, a gold St Christopher and a chunky silver necklace akin to Carrie's when she meets Big on the boat in season 3; all I've got to notice about myself are some rapidly fading freckles and an overindulged palette.

A certain "post-vacance" whimsicality bordering on the morose could be present as is expected when one travels from 32 degrees and enough vitamin D to make your own supplements, to the rather non existent dregs of British "summertime". Distance obviously encourages personal evaluations, and reality can somewhat bite when re-confronted after a jolly absence. 

Cor, talking about bringing down the mood. On a lighter, more hopeful note, I've lots of things to put up so stay tuuuned as they say. 

Bisous x

"LOUNGE LIZARD" BAHAHA

FROG OR TOAD? EITHER WAY AMAZING

MY VERSION OF CARRIE'S NECK GARB

CARRIE IN SAID NECKLACE OBVIOUSLY

A BOUT DE SOUFFLE...

...You leave me Breathless.

Now don't get me wrong, we're not talking Shane Ward's eponymous hit here - this is all about Paris, 1959 and some bonafide iconography.

Last night my local cinema, The Clapham Picture House ( if you're interested ) were showing this art house classic, and being a fan of the subtitles and a little silverscreen snobbery, me and my flatmate decided to inject un petit je ne sais quois into our monday evening. 

It's ridiculous really that I've never seen this film, especially considering how I used to think I was superiority personified by watching Amelie on a loop sans subtitles, convinced it would make me fluent in le French. It is even more ludicrous considering one of my best friends, Danielle, had the DVD pretty much in the next room to me for over three years and I still didn't seize a rainy sunday afternoon to watch it. However, maybe it was for the best - as if I'd seen it previously, watching it for the first time up on the big screen might not have been so special. 

Obviously the film was good, I'm hardly going to write a post about how merde it was am I? But - there are a few things in particular that I wish to lament about. Firstly: BIG fan of the lack of retouching going on in 1959; the beautiful Jean Seberg sported a rather obvious spot for the second half of the movie... and Jean-Paul Belmondo looked so much hotter with all his scars and blemishes. SO refreshing to see. Secondly: FIT clothes, slouchy boxed suits and 7/8ths trews never looked so good - plus stripes galore teamed with white pumps equals tres tres tres chic. Thirdly: Jean-Paul Belmondo looks the spit of Alex Reid - but skinnier and more French, deffo would though. Imagine if ol' KP went for the gamine crop? Ok stop imagining it's too much.

Lastly: The New York Herald Tribune is obviously one of the finest pieces of print to get your hands on anyway, what with Mega Menkes creating all kinds of genius tout le temps - but how much cooler is it because of this?? BEAUCOUP is right. After a little cyber snooping I discovered you can get this for £17:

Not quite the knitted original but could work. Hey, if it's good enough for Kiki...

FIN