Good morning, Tuesday. It's still chilly in New York and this weather is nice for being snuggled in, but not much for motivating. My lethargy must end soon, or I might possibly turn into a slug, sluggin' around Brooklyn and doing everything but being productive. No doubt this malaise will end.
So this am I was reading a blog post about yet another thing French women never do when it comes to tending to their tresses. I don't know what it is, but I've grown tres bored with all the things that French women don't do when it comes to, oh, just about everything- parenting, dieting, styling, living. I say good for them. Great for them really. But I'm not French, and though I admire their tremendous chic and style, I don't really want to be. I'm not sure what magical editorial board has decided that we all want to look like rumpled French ladies, but that's simply not the case. In a quick Google search of "Things French women don't do", I found a few gems: they never get fat, they don't date, they don't contour, and heaven forbid, they DON'T wear "bold, synthetic fabrics". I can't make this shit up. Also they don't sleep in or get wasted. Needless to say, I could never, ever be French.
Though I love the whole French mystique, it's not right for me. And that's the thing. I don't have Caroline de Maigret's ranginess or lopsided grin, nor do I have Clemence Poesy's ingenue on steroids mystique. And although I live for my trench and ballet flats, I'll never reach the heights of haute like Catherine Deneuve. Sure file some of these tips under inspiration or wishful thinking, but really never dying one's hair? Seriously? WTF is that? And though there have been times in my female life I have yearned to be a braless and makeup-free French girl, scampering around the Marais with fuss free hair after an evening of champagne, cheese, and French lovers, I've come to a place of appreciating my straight up New York American approach to style- and that requires a great bra, even better hairstylists and colorists, and being mindful of my cheese intake. It's just not that good for me. Neither is smoking. So there's that. And I actually like to exercise. Oh, and most of the time, my underwear does not match my bra. I'd like it too, but it doesn't. And there are more important things. Like occasionally drinking too much and sleeping in.
And I'm proud to report this week I'm coloring my hair a shade that is quite far from my natural color, and I'm fully chuffed about it. I love playing with my haircolor, enjoy a good blowdry (though it's rare I do it), and definitely complain like a whiny baby about the hot weather (apparently French ladies don't- read the post above). But seriously no hair color unless to cover those little white fuckers by the roots? No. Lord no. I love hair dye. LOVE it. I am proud to say I have not seen my natural color since I am 15. It's just something I love playing with.
I'm not sure what the insane and constant fascination is with what French girls do and don't do- I admit I've succumbed to the frenzy from time to time but this Jewish American girl knows herself well enough to know that the French way can never be my way- I like to dye, dry, and deny (as in deny my frizz) too much. Good for the French babes. But for those of that are not blessed with Francophilic genetics, let's just move on, mmkay? To me, French girls seem a bit passive/aggressive with all of their rules/no rules kind of je ne sais quoi. I'm not saying I'm full Kardashian, but I get by with a lot of help from my friends- and they are my colorist, styling products, and sacre bleu- leggings. So do French women really do everything better than everyone else? Non. No they don't. They do their thing, we do ours. Let's leave it like that and stop trying to be more French. It's just too hard to pretend not to care- don't you think all of that takes a lot of work, PS?
And that's what's up this all American Tuesday in the 718. Yours, in stars, stripes, and (still) chic. XO