Sweater – Chanel AW13. Dress – Next. Booties – Next. Bag – Couronne. Rose-gold star necklace – MyFlashTrash. Watch – Sekonda. Sunglasses – c/o Carrera by Jimmy Choo. Thank you Carrie for helping with the outfit shots.
Guess who feels all grown up buying baguettes at the local boulangerie and eating them straight out the paper bag in her own Parisian flat? Me. Sometimes I alternate a chomp with a lick off a spoonful of French Nutella on one hand and feel like I’ve cooked a meal. Renting an apartment in Paris for one week sounded harmless at first – it’s a fraction of the costs of a hotel room, has a kitchen, and get this: my own room service rules. The Kit Kat in the fridge would be plentiful and would not cost €3,000 + my first-born on check-out. But three days in, I feel like I was getting just too comfortable; the internet was unbelievably fast for some reason and Carrefour supermarket would only sell dessert pots by sets of 6, so I was dutifully employing myself to chain-eat chocolate pudding while streaming Korea’s Next Top Model episodes, back-to-back. I’d make it to a PFW show at 10am in the morning, then come home and do this until it was time to go to the next 10am show. THIS particular set of photos were shot on the last day at the flat before a dinner with a few of my gal friends. Like coming out from a cave, I emerged in this feminine, first-date outfit. An attempt to join society again, I suppose. Even wore my new Carrera by Jimmy Choo sunglasses to protect my out-TV’d eyes, although I’d like to say it was a style choice because, well, aren’t they pretty cool, yo? Good thing I was packing and going home because otherwise I’d really have eaten €3,000 worth in pudding and perhaps even had my first born in there. How Parisienne-chic.