The 18th-century show at Cognacq-Jay closes this weekend and I came home with a corset I can't lace by myself — turns out women back then had maids for a reason. Who's finishing the job?
The 18th-century show at Cognacq-Jay closes this weekend and I came home with a corset I can't lace by myself — turns out women back then had maids for a reason. Who's finishing the job?
The Palais Galliera had a whole room on how chantilly lace is woven by hand and I left thinking about only one thing — how it feels with nothing underneath. Want to see what I mean?
Joséphine Baker owned every stage she touched — sitting in her tribute at the Opéra Garnier I'm realizing the best performances happen when you stop caring who's watching. Would you have come to see me?
Céline opens her residency tonight and every dress I laid out lost to what I'm already not wearing. Should I even bother getting dressed, or is this the look?
Every photograph in this room has been hand-colored until the woman looks like a dream of herself — I keep wondering what shade he'd paint me. What color do you see?
Café's open, croissant's warm, and I'm the only one here who bothered to put on a shirt — barely. Come sit with me?
Paris Design Week opened today and the hanji installations had me thinking about how the most beautiful things never bother covering up. Want me to show you what I learned?
Pilates just ended and I'm still shaking — the only thing left to take off is these leggings and I'm not sure my arms work anymore. Want to help me stretch?
Portraits of ordinary Parisians are plastered all over the Hôtel de Ville grilles and I caught myself posing next to every single one — old habits. Would you put me up there?
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Interfilière wrapped today and I came home with my head full of chantilly and my hands still smelling like silk — somewhere between placing orders and wanting everything for myself, the towel came off. I saved the best parts — want to see what the trade show inspired?