Tag Archives: Paris

Paris, Weekly Diary

Weekly Diary #9

This week has been filled with nostalgia for me, which came all over me when I started to assemble photos I could use to update an old and very corny vision board. I decided that instead of making a collage of inspirational photos, I would print out photos of memorable moments spent with my friends. And since my newly found friendships here in Germany have disappeared as quickly as they have formed, most of the photos are from my time in Paris. And it made me realize that I’ve been pretty miserable in Germany.

Not so long ago, I told my therapist that I feel like my depression is getting worse and worse, despite the medication. It didn’t occur to me that it’s probably because I just don’t feel at home here. Weirdly enough, I moved so many times since I came back to Germany, ten times in less than five years to be exact. I guess I was just too busy to realize that I’m not happy here. Though I have been bitching about our ineffective public transport system since the moment I arrived here.

My life in Paris was so much more bubbly, which might sound paradoxical after my last post about my eating disorder. But considering that I have been carrying that around for 17 years now, the time in Paris (except for the first couple of months) was the lightest, and the friendships I made there last until today. Besides, I never understood how the people here in Cologne don’t get bored out of their mind, going to the same parties, meeting the same people over and over again. Cologne is more of a village than a city, it couldn’t be more different from the vibrant city of Paris where, even after years and years of living there, you still discover something new every day. I also miss the international crowd. And opposed to what every tourist says, people in Paris are actually super friendly. They just don’t like bullshit and have a cynical view of life, which I both find very charming.

But more importantly, I spent a big part of my 20s in Paris. So, of course, it was the best time of my life. I really miss the nights I spent at the bar I worked at, after finishing a shift. We’d stay until the cleaners kicked us out, had a couple of drinks, and played silly games. Or we’d go out to the other bars that belonged to the same chain. During this time, I was barely at home. I just spent all my time at the bar. And I absolutely loved it.

It’s not like I had a “real” perspective. I was just a full-time waitress. But I definitely didn’t feel as stuck as I do know. And I had fun. Growing up is a scam anyway.

Still, I felt so much more inspired back then than nowadays. Take yesterday: I went through some of my Facebook posts. Like everyone else, I haven’t used Facebook in a really long time, so it was fun to go through the things I shared a few years ago. I had no idea I used to be funny and witty! Honestly, some of these posts were almost genius! And now, my brain is just dusty. I’m not even able to think of a good comparison right now. Oh how the mighty have fallen!

To solve this problem, I have a two-step plan. Step one: Start again to drink wine every day. That’s what I did back then. Even though it happened that not everything was very clear the next morning, it was also during that time when I wrote beautiful texts and scribbled (seemingly) intelligent annotations in the margins of the books I read. I even had the habit of sitting in bars, having a couple of drinks, and reading until the letters got blurry. It felt so intellectual. Now, I even have a small collection of black turtle-necks, which would only add to the aesthetic.

Step two: I’ll finally finish that fucking degree that I’ve been putting off for years and move back to Paris. And I’ll have a tiny apartment on the sixth floor, without an elevator of course. It’s the only way to go and will help keep my butt in shape despite all the wine I’ll be drinking. Hopefully, I’ll have weird neighbors as well, In that way, I’d have plenty of material to write about. Maybe I’ll even see my mosquito-hating friend from the metro again.

With my new photo wall, I’ll definitely have enough inspiration to do so.

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Just blogging

Club goin’ up on a Tuesday

I got to talk about my favorite anecdote today. And since I haven’t shared it here, yet, I thought I should do that. It’s about a club on a Tuesday. (It actually was a Thursday, but who cares, it doesn’t really matter.)

I had just moved from the 17th to the 18th arrondissement in Paris. If you’re not familiar with the specific characteristics of every arronidssement, the 17th is rather posh (at least the good side, meaning the part that’s not right next to the 18th) and the 18th is rather sketchy. Pigalle and Moulin Rouge are in the 18th. If you look at the history and architecture of Paris, it’s actually not surprising that Montmartre (which is the 18th) and its tiny dark side alley used to be the epicenter of all kinds of unlawful activities. But also or maybe for that exact reason, it was also the meeting point of great artists like Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso, Modigliano, Van Gogh…

Especially the affiches of Toulouse-Lautrec are essential to Parisian culture. They were also the reason why I was and still am kinda obsessed with Montmartre. Of course it’s very touristy and somewhat artificial today. It’s basically just strip clubs and sex shops. However, during my time in Paris, there was nothing I loved more that strolling around the area. I know, it’s weird. But I’m a fan of Toulouse-Lautrec, so I wanted to soak in the atmosphere.

So there was this one day where I had no idea what to do with myself. I had just moved to the 18th, my apartment still was an unfurnished mess, I’d just spent the day on painting my room. All of my stuff was still in boxes and instead of a bed I only had a sleeping bag. It was a Thursday and I had taken the day off my work at Subway that day. After I’d spent the day painting the day painting, I wanted to do something fun. Unfortunately, all my friends either had to work that day or had class the next morning and were being way too responsible about that. Little fuckers.

So I decided to go take a walk in my new hood. I even had something to get from the pharmacy. (Awesome thing about Pigalle, there’s a pharmacy that’s open until midnight. I saved me from getting a conjunctivitis, once.) On my way to the pharmacy, I passed my all the strip clubs and sex shops. It was summer (and I was dressed like it) and all the owners were standing outside trying to lure people in. One guy outside of a strip club apporached me. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I do remember that he was asking me if I’d want to work for him and therefore invited me in to have a look. I declined and continued my way to the pharmacy. But then on my way back from there, I thought: “Why not go in?” and so I decided that if he’d ask me a second time, I’d go in. Surprise, Surprise, he did. I even got a free drink. My boring Thursday had just gotten quite exciting. So I went to the strip club, on my own and still totally sober.

To be honest, it was one of the shittiest places I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t the fancy kind of strip club that Chuck Bass owns in Gossip Girl (gosh, I would have loved that!). No, it was just ugly and kinda sad. But I didn’t leave right away, it was way too interesting for that. I was introduced to the girls who worked there and sat down and had a chat with them. They basically told me that most part of their job was waiting. They’d arrive at 10pm, but apparently, the busiest time was from around 1 to 3 am. While we talked, two American dudes walked in. One of the girls danced for them. It was a Rihanna song. And wow was she amazing! I wish I could dance like that, it was amazing to watch. I was speechless when she told me that she learned it all on youtube. However, she didn’t get a big tip, even though her performance was awesome. I guess the shitty cheap atmosphere of the club made the guys act like shitty and cheap assholes. They left pretty quickly and then it was just the girls and me again. They told me about their lives and how they came to that place and I have to say, that night was one of the moments where I got a deeper understanding on what it means to be in that kind of industry. And just for the record, I don’t like the stigma around it. I hate it.

However, I very much appreciated the attitude of these girls. They were so warm and kind, it was amazing. I also liked that they had absolutely no shyness about their bodies. One girl showed me how her boobs could dance. Like she pulled away the tiny amount of cloth that was covering her nipples and let her naked boobs bounce with the rhythm of the music. You don’t see that everyday. And seriously, when it comes to body positivity, we should all be more like that.

Eventually, it was my time to leave. I could’ve stayed much longer, but I decided to call it a night after I’d seen literally everything. But I didn’t feel like just going home. So I stopped at a kiosk and bought a bottle of vodka and some diet coke before I made my way back to the appartment. (My friends were still being boring.)

I then spent the rest of the night watching The Rum Diary and take a sip of my Vodka Coke everytime Johnny Depp is having some of his drink. I got incredibly drunk that night and had one of my worst hangovers the day after. But so far, it’s one of my favorite anecdotes.

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Culture, Lifestyle

Changes

And it’s Sunday again. It came so suddenly. The last couple of days just flew by. Maybe the last week seemed to pass by so fast because I mostly stuck to my daily routine, consisting of working out, my job and my blog. And seeing friends, of course. Recently, one of my friends came back from a few months travel and so we have been hanging out to catch up. She told me about all the amazing countries she visited, the awesome people she’d met and that she actually didn’t want to come back to Paris. (As a matter of fact, she’s only staying two weeks before flying back to Australia.) She said that people here would probably still have the same jobs, still live in the same place, still have the same troubles in their relationships. Well, although things might not be as boring as that, I do see her point.

After having had a drunk night out yesterday, I went for a walk this afternoon. Looking at the remaining Christmas decoration in the streets, seeing people getting rid of their Christmas tree which finally started to shed it’s needles, I suddenly became oddly aware of how transient everything is and that at the same time, nothing changes. One year just went by and I hardly noticed it. Sure, there have been quite some changes, I realized it as soon I was writing a long letter to someone I haven’t seen since 2013. It might be the fact that I’m turning 25 this year and that I’m about to have a quarter century crisis, but today made me questioning how much I have achieved in life so far.

On Sundays, people take their kids to the park or go see the grandparents, twenty-somethings go home to have lunch with their families, students who came to Paris for their studies are spending the last day of the weekend at home in the suburbs before taking the train back to the city. On Sundays, people take a break from the usual, everyday’s rush. They take the time to go for a stroll or for visiting a museum. On Sundays, everything seems to pause.

Sundays used to make me feel restless and I’m just slowly learning to appreciate them as a day which I can absolutely dedicate to myself. But sometimes, looking at the other park visitors makes me having second thoughts about my life. I awkwardly notice that my mum had already had me when she had the same age. After finishing her studies with successfully, she had found a stable job which gave her enough security and already founded a family. By that time, she was totally independent from her parents.

As for me, I dropped out of university, I don’t have any degree. I worked in the food service industry for a couple of years before getting a better paid job in an e-commerce enterprise. But I surely couldn’t provide for an imaginary kid, I couldn’t even get a cat. The last time I asked my mum to help me out financially is not that long ago and I also still live with my flatmate, which is great, but nevertheless, I think sharing a flat is something that you should only do for a certain period of time. As always, there are also exceptions, of course. But thinking of the people in their mid-thirties I’ve met and who still shared a flat, I know that I definitely do not want to make this my lifestyle.

In the 19th century men were considered as men as soon as they were able to grow a beard or go to war. Women got married at the age of 20 to 22 and often became mothers shortly afterwards.

I remember how weird I found it when the boys I went to school with suddenly started talking about doing their military service. And the girl who was the first one of our year to get married surely surprised me. So what makes us become adults, nowadays? When is the moment that we’re able to say “Now, my life is settled”?

Taking into account how fast our society changes and that there are so many more possibilities and career choices than 200 or even 20 years ago, it’s normal that finding oneself and being able to build one’s independent future has become a much longer process.

The good thing is that I won’t be able to do crazy things like buying a sports car until I figure out my next professional and personal steps. I can save that for my midlife-crisis. Maybe I will have my driver’s licence by then.

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Culture

About fanfiction

Last week, one of my friends asked me to write a short text for her website. She wanted it to be some kind of fanfiction about the impressionist writer Rainer Maria Rilke. Well, she didn’t actually employ the word “fanfiction”, but she wanted me to invent a story about why the writer had spent a part of his life in Paris, mentioning, that it hadn’t necessarily need to be true – so basically fanfiction.

It’s very funny how things happen in life. Only a couple of days before, I had read an article about students being much more into literature than their teachers would have expected. They invent alternative story-endings, or add some funny details to their beloved book or movie characters lives, letting them experience great adventures and unexpected relationships. Although the author of the original book might not be too happy about the fan’s rich and wild imagination, I think that fanfiction is a very interesting and delightful way of interpreting a story. And in some cases, it even gives space to new productions, like Snow White as a horror movie. Well, this is more of a reinterpretation than fanfiction, but I think that it’s pretty close, though.

While reading the article, I was already thinking about what I would do to the characters of Harry Potter. And since the book is so incredibly detailed, I found it quite hard to imagine anything which still would make sense to the book, but be totally new to the story. Also, I’m respecting my childhood heroes way too much to imagine them in a threesome or anything of this kind. (According to the article, people’s imagination is endless and touches all areas.) And so I came to the conclusion, that I would probably never write anything which can be categorized as fanfiction. Despite of all that, I surprisingly did, just a few days later, on the request of my friend. And it was fun! And since I had to do some research as well, like finding out more about Rilke’s biography, learning more about historic and cultural events which were important at that time, I actually upgraded my general knowledge.

And le voilà the text I finally wrote:

The Story of a Youth to Discover Paris

“Why Paris of all cities? That’s a good question.

It mostly was thanks to my friend Auguste Rodin, who had had a big influence on me taking this decision, after all, it was him who had offered me the position as his secretary. I could never have rejected such an offer, particularly as I have always been a great admirer of his artwork. And of course, Paris is a very scenic city, considerably more charming than London, which seems to be a little too gloomy for my taste. And considering that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle probably found the inspiration for The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes in current events, then I’m feeling a little uneasy about England. Besides, the weather there seems to dampen one’s mood and to make one miserable. I  do not want to deny at all that the English culture has its appeal and that it produced quite a few great and brilliant authors and artists, let’s just name Charles Dickens or William Turner. But it seems as if Paris was more pleasant after all.

I find it especially interesting that the Russian culture, which has always aroused my enthusiasm, has been following the French example. Who knows, if my friend hadn’t made this offer, I maybe would have traveled to Russia first. I think it’s a fascinating country.

Paris isn’t any less splendid, of course. Art and beauty are always celebrated there, even in everyday’s life. Just think of Parisian fashion! This makes me think of how impassioned my mother used to talk about French couture. From my very early age, she tried to share her love for French fashion with me. I suppose, and Sigmund Freud would certainly agree, that the enchantment my mother felt for the French style has left its mark on me in a manner that it explains my curiosity for Paris. Besides, I’m convinced that there’s almost no other city which could be more suitable for an artist. Magnificent beauty always surrounds you, everything is incredibly picturesque. Not to mention the remarkable architecture. And the gardens! They’re just a true paradise. If you have ever been to the Jardin du Luxembourg or the Jardin des Plantes, you know what I’m talking about. It’s almost impossible not to find any inspiration in those places and not to be impressed by Paris.”

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Culture, Paris

Today’s attack on Charlie Hebdo

Maybe the biggest news in France today was the terrorist attack on the French satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo. Since the news quickly spread, I’m pretty sure many of you heard about it. Personally, I saw the report on the TV this morning and later today, my attention was brought to it by friends who went to show their support for the magazine this evening at Place de la République. I’m positively surprised how fast and to what a big extent people reacted to this attack. In contrast to that, I’m sadly not very surprised at all that the attack took place, simply because the magazine has a history of stirring up controversy and also because there has been an incident in the past. Of course, nothing justifies terror and any kind of violence, no matter of which possible reason is unacceptable. But I do understand that certain publications might be considered as offensive or even insulting. And so I cannot help wondering about how we would react to an article or a caricature which obviously made fun of the beliefs, customs and cultural traditions which are enshrined in our society. (Hopefully not with a terror attack, that’s for sure!) Also, I am convinced that people should be able to make comments, express their opinion as well as criticism without having to be afraid of being persecuted in any way or being attacked, neither verbally, nor physically. Still, how far should you go when speaking your mind? That’s a question almost impossible to answer and there surely is no rule to apply. Maybe, today’s tragedy could have been avoided under different circumstances. And maybe, a better cultural understanding could have helped with that. Now, this said, I will go and read some Utopian novel.

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Fashion

Miss Dior exposition

It’s been a while that I haven’t done anything against the intellectual decline which is haunting me since the day I graduated from school and so I decided that it would probably be a good idea to spend a couple of my evenings going to some expositions instead of watching a whole season of Pretty Little Liars in only one week. Still, despite of all my good will, I’ve never been a fan of classic museums and to be honest, I can’t imagine any place which gets me bored out faster than the world famous Louvre. So I have to start light. That’s why, when I read an article about the new Miss Dior exhibition which opened today at the Grand Palais in Paris, I thought I should give it a try. Also, I already was very cultural last Sunday when I went to the new exposition of Brassaï : pour l’amour de Paris which I enjoyed very much and which gave me the courage to do more cultural stuff. And so today, right after work, I went to see Miss Dior. Actually, I was expecting that it would be crowded. Brassaï was. And I was also expecting many many teenage girls, the kind of girls who are subscribed to Glamour magazine and who always tie their long sleek hair to a pony tail. You can spot them in the 17th arrondissement of Paris or around La Sorbonne. In summer, it’s even easier to recognize them because they also wear those huge sunglasses which became famous thanks to the wonderful Audrey Hepburn, and they usually wear ballet pumps. But not any kind, Repetto, please! Since this is Kate Moss’ favourite brand. Maybe it was the thought of the perfume Miss Dior which made me think that, maybe it was its name. It’s very fresh and flowery, notes that I used to wear when I was fifteen. I remember that Riley Keough used to be the ambassador of Miss Dior Chérie in 2008, she was nineteen at that time but looked much younger. I also always had the conception of the perfume Miss Dior being a very young fragrance. Furthermore, the word “miss” never made me think of a grown up woman, although I know that it just indicates a woman’s marital status but not her age. All in all, I was almost sure that the tonight’s exposition would be very girly, from its content to the people who would go and see it. Fortunately, none of my expectations were fulfilled. The first thing I saw when I came in was this huge, typical flacon of Miss Dior which was in the middle of a beautiful entry hall. The stairs, which then led to the exposition, were bathed in very bright, white and light pink light which made the ugliness of the industrial looking staircase fade away. When I finally arrived in the hall were the exposition takes place, I felt like being in a perfumery. Not only it smelled really nice there, the fact that I got one of those paper strips for perfume which was impregnated with the Miss Dior fragrance increased that feeling. And the place was simply beautiful. I didn’t even know where to start, there were light installations, pictures, paintings, dresses and of course flacons everywhere. And everything is set in the way that permits visitors to circulate as they want. There’s not the typical entry and exit you can mostly see in classic museums, and I really appreciated that. The exposition itself is very fresh, very modern. I think it’s fair to say that it represents the idea of the Miss Dior universe in the best way it could. There are a lot of facts about Christian Dior as a person and as a designer and you can get quite a good idea of his inspiration, his muses and of course, the history of Miss Dior. In addition to that, there are many works of art which are as varied as the different conceptions every one of the artists has to the theme of the exposition. And I have to ad that the different interpretations are really worth to be seen. Anyway, I guess it’s quite obvious that I had a great time. For everyone who is interested, the exposition is still on until the 25th of November 2013.

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Paris

Autumn in Paris

Now that November arrived, it already becomes less easy to find eccentrically or very well dressed people in Paris, mostly because they are all covered in black winter coats. That’s something very Parisian, by the way. As soon as summer is over, people change their (sometimes overly) coloured clothes against much darker items. Especially when it starts raining, the national grief about the end of those two weeks of summer, which nature gives to Paris every year, can be particularly well observed. There is no single umbrella which isn’t black, except the transparent ones which mark a new trend, and except the funny umbrellas tourists use when they’re not wearing one of those bin-bag-like raincoats. And it’s not only the dark colours which make the city look like a grieving widow, but people suddenly also start to walk with their heads down, and not only when it’s raining. And besides of being very annoying, making a slalom run through all those people who might or might not bump into you can also be very entertaining. What I personally also find very funny is when people approach till a few centimetres close until they finally see your feet and stop walking. The look they give you then, as if you were Albus Dumbledore who just appeared out of nowhere, is priceless. I have to admit that I sometimes force this situation, just for my own amusement.
But I’m getting carried away, because I actually would like to present you two styles which I like a lot.
On the first picture, you see a very good friend of mine who is wearing a cool combination of jeans and leather. Black leather jackets by the way happen to be of my favourite items, amongst others. Except for very few people, they immediately give you the coolness of James Dean. And even dorky girls like me suddenly look like some hot biker chick that could also be in some calendar for guys (except that we keep our t-shirts on, and also our pants). Usually, people combine leather jackets with jeans. My friend also does that, but she’s wearing a jeans shirt. And you don’t see that very often. That’s why I like her look.
The second picture was taken in the Marais. This girl walked by and it was a coincidence that I noticed her amazing coat. So I, crazy person as I am, started running after her, telling her to wait in French. When I finally reached her, I found out that she was American and that she wasn’t afraid of me, but that she just didn’t speak French. She also told me that she had made the coat herself.
I just love the simple elegancy of her outfit and the little golden details on her shoes and her bag that match perfectly. I’m still happy about having run after her.

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Fashion

Paris Fashion Week – thoughts & weird situations II

It’s been a while since Paris Fashion Week is definitely over, but still I haven’t shared all my thoughts, yet, which is mostly because of my very down-to-earth job that unfortunately takes way too much of my time and which has nothing of the eccentricity of the sparkling and exciting world of fashion. So I’m a little late on my report, but I start to recognize that this might not be too bad, since there are maybe not as many competing texts circulating than only two weeks ago. By the way, this actually brings me right to the topic I want to discuss, because quite a huge part is about the competition which is related to blogging. Although I didn’t believe it, I gave in to this competition much faster than I thought. And so, I did the exact opposite of what I announced in my last post just a couple of days later: I actually took pictures of other bloggers. Even worse, I became one of those celebrity stalkers who were running from fashion show to fashion show, hoping to get a glimpse and maybe a picture of some famous person who would attend. The only defense I have is that I really liked the outfits you can now see on my pictures. And since I was already there, why not taking a picture of some celebrities as well? Thinking about it, it also seems rather stupid to me not to take this or that kind of pictures just as a matter of principle. But even though it still feels as if I somehow betrayed myself, I could also notice a clear difference between my behavior and the conduct of other bloggers and photographers and I suddenly realized, how hard it is to make people notice you as a blogger, photographer or even as a journalist. There are just so many blogs, articles, fashion magazines, and every single one comes up with a huge special about Paris Fashion Week. The only way to survive in this struggle is to get as many likes and re-posts as possible. And unfortunately, all it needs to get there is a bunch of pictures; they don’t even necessarily need to be good, more important is that a famous name is tagged to them. And it perfectly makes sense: why shouldn’t people get excited about Iggy Azalea’s see-through top she was wearing at the Maison Martin Margiela show and that gave a very explicit Idea of her nipples? And so, star hunting seems to be one of the main occupation of photographers and bloggers, and it couldn’t have been more obvious than on that Sunday, 29 September. It was actually a very quiet day, compared to Friday and Saturday. Probably this was due to the fact that the venues were scattered all over Paris instead of being all in the same area and since it took more time to get from one show to another, I guess that star hunters were more selective by choosing the places they wanted to go. But still, when Olivia Palermo was spotted after the Chloé runway show, she caused a huge traffic jam. People went totally crazy and started to scream her name, chasing her, trying to get a picture. It was ridiculous. In contrast to that, when André Léon Talley showed up at the exit of the Maison Rabih Kayrouz show at Palais de Tokyo, people almost overlooked him. No screaming, no hysteria. It was as if there was a kind of disconnection: every one of the present crowd seemed as if they wanted to belong to the fashion scene really bad. But I got the impression that it was just a shallow behavior because those bloggers and photographers clearly were much more interested in the hype about Paris Fashion Week, and so, a few powerful personalities, who maybe don’t have the same notoriety as people who regularly appear in the yellow press, were slightly ignored. And this made me think of something else: How do all the people who are actually invited to the fashion shows actually experience this whole craziness? I’m really wondering if it’s not awful at some moments. Imagine, you get your invitation, which is awesome, and you already think about being part of an exclusive crowd who has the great chance to see one of the most beautiful spectacles of the year. You dress up as it befits a rich, important and elegant person, you take your beautifully designed invitation which was sent to you by post, not by e-mail, and you’re ready to go to the biggest event there is in the glamorous fashion scene. But then, when you get out of the luxury car which happens to be your personal taxi, you have to face the humongous crowd of hungry photographers and bloggers who are craving stardust, not hesitating attacking their prey and shoot as many photos as they can.
I used to work with a guy who had an invitation to a few Paris Fashion Week shows in 2012 and he was hesitating going there. Of course I told him he should go, and I nagged him about taking me there, too. In the end, he told me he was too tired and that he just wanted to spend a quiet night at home instead of being surrounded by hundreds of people. At that time, I thought that this was the craziest thing he could have ever said and I didn’t understand at all why he didn’t want to go to splendid Paris Fashion Week. Now I do understand.

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Fashion

Paris Fashion Week – Pre Helsinki

Today, I went to another event which took place within the context of the Paris Fashion Week. It was very exciting, because today, I went to the Pre Helsinki Showroom where Finland’s promising fashion talents were presented. I love Scandinavian design because it combines clear lines with interesting cuts and colours. And my expectations were fulfilled. There were so many different and inspiring collections, and people even had the chance to talk to the designers. When I entered the place, the first thing that hit me was a flash of all the bright and intense colours the gamut could offer. When I later asked the designers what their inspiration was, I found out that many of them were fascinated by foreign cultures, mostly Asia and Russia, and so they modelled their clothes on traditional uniforms of foreign countries. As another source of inspiration they also mentioned nature, landscapes and camouflage. As a result, they used almost every kind of material in combination with all kind of forms and colours. The most original piece I have seen today was a jacket which was made of some rubbery material which reminded me of the Michelin mascot. The shape of the jacket also slightly looked like the Michelin mascot. And instead of an ordinary belt, there was a security belt fixed to the jacket. Yes, I think I can say that this jacket definitely was my favourite piece, today. I have rarely seen something so original. This jacket had so many different details which weren’t connected at all, but which still strangely fit together and created a unique piece of clothing. And since every single piece was as fascinating as the jacket I just described, I will better let the photos talk.

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And here’s the link list:

ensaemble
Leppokorpi
Sasu Kauppi
Siloa&Mook

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Fashion

hoodies & skinny jeans

Since it suddenly became all rainy and grey outside, and since summer seems like really far away right now, I noticed that I’m starting falling back in my winter routine, where I clearly show that making me move even one step away from my wonderful heating and my warming tea mug is the most evil act you can do. So as soon as fall is setting in, I start protecting myself from the universe by wearing shapeless pullovers and hoodies. Besides the fact that I suddenly look much more dangerous and that people give me anxious looks, I also notice that my taste in fashion is changing. Or actually, it decreases to non-existent. And when I was thinking about how terrifying I look during autumn and winter, I started wondering how other girls manage it to look just perfect in big and shapeless pullovers and trousers that are full of holes while I just look as if I spent my nights standing by a bin fire. And I came to the conclusion that it’s the French touch and this funny nonchalance which has the mighty power to make French girls look good even in the simplest clothes, at least, this explanation works with the cliché. At first, this phenomenon came to my attention during my time at university. There was this girl who went to the same classes, and who was always wearing outfits that looked somehow neglected but still charming. If I had to find a famous person to who this girl could have been compared, I would say Kate Moss when she was with Pete Doherty. Boots and skinny jeans, a loose t-shirt, out-of bed hair and this fascinating allure. Funnily, this girl wasn’t even aware of having a very characteristic style and when I complimented her on her outfit, she just frowned, laughed and then said “Oh what, this? This is my sleep-t-shirt”. And what’s even funnier is that she would just put that same allure to any other outfit, and in this case, that is something very charming. Because even when she dressed up for a night out, there was still this hint of indifference which made her outfits look chic but casual and cool. She is half French, by the way. And when I came to Paris, I found out very quickly that this kind of chic negligence Is a real thing here, even though I haven’t met any girl who embodied it as perfectly as my former fellow student did.
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In order to make you believe that all I just said is true at that the kind of style I just described really exists, I would like to share a photo which I took not too long ago. I really have to apologize for its bad quality, I took it in an H&M store and I think that any girl, who has ever tried some trousers on there, knows how terrible the classical H&M lights are. And what’s not very flattering for your body can’t have a much better effect on a photo. Anyway, I hope that you will still be able to see why I absolutely had to take the picture. But just to stress it: I love how easy this outfit looks, but still, it’s far from neglect. I also like the Pikachu print and the black boots which make the outfit interesting.

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