When I told my beautician back in Singapore that I was moving to Paris, a dreamy look immediately washed over her face, and the predictable gush of words came out, "Paris!! Oh how lucky!" with a gasp.
She did not notice the meek, embarrassed smile I gave her, but from her vacuous eyes, I guess she was already reveling in images of the Eiffel Tower in the background lit up like a giant Christmas tree at night, good-looking men in beret and women in Chanel and Louis Vuitton strolling along the Seine, admiring the grand facade of classical European edifices, baguettes floating around, and the sounds of ooolala!...punctuating conversations.
Stereotypes, but they are true. You DO see men in beret walking about clutching their fresh baguettes, and you DO hear oolala! in its various incarnations all the time around you. And what is MOST true is the devastatingly stylish women walking about on every street corner of Paris. And the worst thing about that is that they seem to do it so effortlessly, as if they just woke up and threw on whatever they could find in their dirty laundry bag, and voila! It is inimitable; it must be in the Parisian genes or something they put in the water supply.
Once YL and I saw a woman in a serious, classy outfit wearing what seems to be a large pink shower cap having lunch in a reputable brasserie next to the Sorbonne (University of Paris). She looked stylish. If she had worn that back home, she would have been carted off to Tanjung Rambutan (THE sanitarium in Malaysia).
So there is some amount of stress in terms of dressing. Singaporeans and Malaysians are notorious for our laid-back, kampung style of dressing. My time spent in Canada and YL's time in Australia did not help much in the subject either, as both countries are equally casual in their dressing (Birkenstock with socks! University sweaters! Hawaiian shorts!). London attempted to educate us, but they were quite forgiving in that aspect. Not here. One can't help but feel self-conscious when surrounded by style personified.
Even YL was inspired? pressured? to pull together a decent ensemble during his week-long visit. He, of the stained-20-year-old-tees-and-holey-shorts-and-patched-up-Teva-sandals fame. It is a mini miracle. Maybe he will consider accessorizing with my shower cap?
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1 comment:
Good entry!
I remembered I was shopping in Lorient one day in my running pants / pyjama style. When I was checking out at the end of the shop, one of the sales person actually stand there blocking me from going further. I was surprised but I insisted and went passed her anywhere. When I told my husband (a French), he said because of my dress code they could think that I'm among the Romanian gypsy who have reputation of stealing. Anyway, people in Paris tend to dress well, but people in the province are less formal. Most of my French coworkers in Rennes wear jeans and no make up.
I came to your blog after seeing your looking for babysitter message in Facebook. Actually, you could check with the local Town Hall, they usually have a list of babysitters available.
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