Today the sun was out (as it has been for the last two straight weeks!), and the day screamed spring attire. As I had spent a good forty-five minutes last week blabbing on and on to a future transplant about the importance of embracing the fact that you are American in France and it will always be that way, I was yearning for my Lilly Easter skirt. But, alas, I believe that disappeared in our “One Buck Chuck” pre-Philly move, so I settled for a vintage number acquired in Philly that would fit in at Ralph Lauren’s for brunch, the Tommy Hilfiger prep shack après, and make me feel in the Easter spirit. I applied my bright pink lipstick, threw on my quilted flats and corralled my green-pant sporting hubby to head to our day of celebration. But instead of that holiday spirit, I was the Grinch (with the added splash of spring appropriate pink). As I knew that the US would welcome me in my present attire, the French/tourists did not appreciate Mashley’s Easter duds. I spent more time giving the evil eye back to the poorly-dressed fanny pack donning invaders than I did embracing my own advice. As Tommy Hilfiger is trying to push the prep movement here in Paris and seer-sucker has even made it onto the shelves of H&M, the moral to this madras-clad story is that Paris may be seeped in the green-eyed monster, but they are not sporting it.
And while talking attire, our little stint in Russia made me wish that I had purchased at least one pair of thigh-high boots and studded-jeans (with eye shadow to match my boot color). The green-eyed monster I was not, but instead completely perplexed by the amount of day clothes that could have doubled for club attire (clearly they have the day to night clothes issue solved so Glamour can rest soundly in Moscow). Although I did not find it terribly attractive, as a post-Soviet country it is fascinating. It seemed eerily similar to the neighborhoods I used to drive through on my way to work --- dilapidation with satellite dishes and fancy SUVs abound. New found wealth and freedom can be more of an ultimate devastation than uplifting in a perplexing sort of way. I don’t like extremes, which is why perhaps I was so turned off by Russia. That being said, the Hermitage was breathtaking, and quite a pad. Twist my arm and perhaps I would have lived there – but only if I was allowed to wear pink and green. I think the monogram thing was already covered in the palace, so at least that is one step in the right direction….
Tommy Hilfiger Prep Shack in front of the Pompidou
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Russia, April 2011
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