PolishedFriday, February 22 2013
I’m no Olivia Palermo. My hair hasn’t seen a brush in years (no, really! I leave the house with a soggy mane of tangled locks Monday through Friday – good job Instagram is nothing but a glorified foot fetish gallery, #FromwhereIstand is my best friend, don’t you know?), my makeup is forever smudged (if makeup there is) and no matter what I wear, I always look scruffy. Praise be the place I was born, for since moving to London I now get away with the lot on account of looking ‘effortless’.
Indeed I cannot help but marvel at the Eiffel Tower-tall pedestal that we croissant-eating, breton-wearing frogs have been put on. Not that I’mcomplainingor anything. I milk that get out of jail free card as much as the next parisienne expat. Ever noticed how when we meet I always go for the double kiss on the cheek,apologizingprofusely to your outstretched hand, and blaming my pedigree genes, all within 2-minutes of us first coming face to face? Old tricks, I’m telling ya.
Ironically, most French girls (I) spend a lot of time wondering how other nations get to look so polished. Olivia being the prime suspect here, naturellement. I recently read an interview in which the queen of put together claims she never leaves the house without her signature classic red nails. It got me thinking. I stopped wearing ‘red red’ nails a while ago, when Irealisedthey make me look ladylike – which quite frankly is not something I’m prepared to deal with. But maybe I need to put my fears behind me and embrace the grown upway of life.If not sartorially, at least on my fingertips. Slowly but surely. Red is not dead, quite the contrary in fact.
Polish by Maybelline Colorshow in Candy Apple
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