Still Not Dead

Purple and red purple and red, Yves’ not dead

That has been running through my head. Oh oh oh, en anglais, that rhymes!

Anyway, you people are whining. I have stopped in Paris on the way to Morocco, and you must do what I did. Go see the fashions from 1940 exhibit, a côté de Gare Montparnasse. Ask when you get near. Why? Because even during hard times these people were chic, and on a budget. You people only know how to buy fashion, to consume. It needs to be considered, and thought where the thought comes from. There a long winded German, no, not that one, another, Goethe. He said if you aren’t drawing on 2000 years of history you are living hand to mouth.

And that is why, mes enfants, you are all whining is the midst of ridiculous plenty.

Be creative. If you inherited your grandmère’s jewels from the Klondike Gold Rush, be glad of it. Wear a pearl necklace as a headband, if you think middle management has ruined pearls. Oh oh oh, wrap them around your wrist as a bracelet. If a simple blouse doesn’t look parfait, then pensez. Oooh, peut-être you need more exercise, not more clothes.

Appropriateness, another reason you are miserable is you where shorts to town, and you look stupid. And beach clothes in the city make other people uncomfortable. It is a compliment to others to dress properly for the occasion. Take a cue from the wonderful Mme. Sarkozy, always right for the occasion and manages to look comfortable with herself. She looked a perfect lady to meet the queen, and cotton blouses for Egypt. Not like that ghastly American politician’s wife, bare arms always, to distract from that face. That poor creature looked so foolish wearing an Easter ensemble for a January event. Je sais je sais, you will get whiney and defend her by saying oh, she’s the first. Yes, mes pauvres, she is the first in history to ask to have her inaugural clothes comp’d, gratuite, gratis, like some PR chippie. Mais bien sûr, she doesn’t know better.

It saddens others to see a badly dressed and poorly groomed woman. It brings joy to the angels, to see someone dressed simply and properly. Form follows function, oh, Pierre and I had so many lovely books.

I have read that I said all a woman needs to be chic is a black skirt and sweater and a man on her arm. It’s true. Wash your face, put on half your normal maquillage, and keep your hair looking something like it was found in nature.

If you can only stagger like a tipsy chameau in heels, then walk in flats. Oh oh oh, chic.

It is easier than you think, but you need to think, not shop so much. We’ll talk more later, but I must walk to rue de Passy and watch the sunset. Watching the sunset is le dernier cri.