Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. So whether decor, couture, wine or pastries, we Americans seem endlessly fascinated with all things French. Aside from learning the language or relocating to the 7th Arrondissement in Paris, we must settle for a few simple form of theft.
Obey the rules of femininity. Flouncy, free form dresses with a pair of heels, a well-fitted suit with signature
Chanel pearls, or a pair of designer shorts with multiple gold chains hanging at the waistline.
Wear black, the color of midnight, romance, and the every slimming hue that takes off the illusion of at least ten pounds.
Have your glam squad on-call at all times to add that subtle make-up and miraculously wind-blown hair that so makes so many green with envy.
Discover your signature perfume prior to the age of 30 and then wear it for the next 40 years (my choice Opium, though later in life, I mix with Angel).
Wear a black brassiere under a white shirt. Shock value.
Age gracefully (ignore because I have no desire to become Bridget Bardot).
Arrive late with the excuse that your life is so busy that it makes time fleeting (and apparently free from good manners).
Enjoy you face now because unless you are an America, it will not remain the same long (hence Bridget Bardot).
Good lingerie and high count thread sheets (my cat Grace enjoys my fashion shows).
Take time for yourself. Forget to pick-up the kids, order a pizza, or call your mother. You deserve a 3 hour bath.
Live a well cured life (preferably with a wealthy, potentially titled man).
Oh La La Cheri