In Dior Joaillerie-Horlogerie boutique 8 place Vendôme; Hotel de Crillon
I must’ve simmered in the London pot little too long to think that stepping out with a lightly-packed bag while high-fiving the drunk neighbour at 4am is a very appropriate start to a romantic Paris trip. Drunk on a Sunday night, true hipster pirate freelancer spirit, aye? I should know, I’m captain of that ship. We’re sinking and all that. Anyway. On arrival I searched around for my driver (ho ho my driver, when would I EVER say that again) and spotted a man holding up a ‘Mr Parcchini’ sign. Naturally I glazed over and kept looking, thinking poor Italian man with a name that sounds like food. After a flurry of texts between Brian the PR, turns out Mr Parcchini (ParkShini) was to be my alias in Paris – I’m guessing the reservation was made by phone. So I said that’s me and from then on the driver couldn’t stop looking at his rear mirror, so I spoke in a deep voice to take the mickey out of him and all, buhehe.
Dior kindly invited me down for a day for the introduction of the spectacular Dior VIII watches – to be extra clear, it does not have six wives, one with a cocktail named after. Apparently 8 was Mr Dior’s lucky number! Look out for part two and three, because I’m in Seoul at the moment with acute exhaustion and the internet in this damn hotel costs £10 an hour I decided to skip the research this time and write this up in Word. It just underlined ‘Parcchini’ in a red squiggly line…
