Just walked out of a fitting where the stylist kept calling me "ma chérie" and honestly I almost answered in my sleep. Thursdays in Paris are for pretending I have my life together in sample sizes two weeks too small.
Yesterday
Just walked out of a fitting where the stylist kept calling me "ma chérie" and honestly I almost answered in my sleep. Thursdays in Paris are for pretending I have my life together in sample sizes two weeks too small.
I've spent years learning exactly which angles love me back — but sometimes I wonder if I've forgotten what I look like when no one's watching, including myself.
Tell me I'm not the only one who treats Monday night online shopping like a competitive sport. My cart is judging me, my bank account is scared, and I have zero regrets. Some girls count sheep — I count items in my shopping bag.
After pilates on a Sunday, when my hair is a mess and my mascara has surrendered, I catch my reflection and think: this is the version no one pays to see. But honestly? She's the one who keeps everything else possible.
Sitting at my favorite café terrace watching the world go by, and I just realized I've been unconsciously matching my champagne to my nail polish. Some habits are more revealing than I'd like to admit.
Just caught myself taking the seventeenth version of this photo and honestly? I'm not even embarrassed. If you've got it, document it. Though maybe I should save some mystery for the people who meet me in person.
Monday afternoons are when Paris belongs to its locals — I just spent two hours wandering the Marais without a single tourist in sight. Found a vintage boutique with the most incredible silk scarves, and now I'm sitting here pretending I won't buy another one. We both know I'm lying to myself.
There's something about 2 AM on a Sunday that makes me honest with myself — all the gloss falls away and I'm just a girl in Paris wondering if I'm chasing the right dreams.
Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about my next trip to Bali — the beaches, the warmth, the way time just seems to slow down. Paris has my heart, but a girl needs her escape too. Where would you run away to if you could?
Who said angels can't be naughty? I'm here to make you sin.