avoiding la douche

Photos of me taken by française Kylie

Again, this is a post about how to look somewhat presentable sans prendre une douche or for you anglophones- without taking a shower. I'm slowly learning the français way of life, therefore showering is optional. So, how to hide nasty locks of love? High pony and a brooch. Why not secure an attractive brooch to your ponytail holder? Everyone is doing it or maybe just me. Ladies or garçons with hair shoulder length or longer- go to your grandmother's house, find the raddest brooch in the antique vanity, clip it into your high ponytail, and use the time you should have spent showering to do something fun, like go to TacoBell.

On to more important things in my life:

Because I had a good 23 minutes to spare sans ma douche, I found myself in a bagel shop (don't pretend that hasn't happened to you). I ordered the "Vanille Chai avec lait" and what did I receive? Heavenly goodness reminiscent of Teazer World Tea Market Elephant Vanilla Chai. Needless to say, I teared up crossing the Rhône, mostly because my withdraws finally subsided.

en l'honneur de paris fashion week

girlfriend caught me surprised when I spotted her lying on the ground

Photos of me taken by française Kylie

la robe- Auntie Lilette (you thought American Apparel), la  camisole- la mère de americane Kylie, la ceinture- ma mère, et les talons- Guess

Today was the start of Paris Fashion Week and it breaks my little heart to know I will not be attending. I know. It's okay, I'll just cry myself to sleep this whole week. Oh, the McQueen. I'll just ditch school. I'm definitely ditching school. I felt this majestic ensemble appropriate for honoring the commencement of Paris Fashion Week. I discovered this rad dress in my grandmother's house this spring. Yes, it is a dress- I obviously have an issue with layers and yes, this spring when Tracy Reese coincidentally threw these down the runway. This dress belonged to my Aunt and she wore it in my mother's wedding in 1982. True story. Are you jealous of my life yet? One of these days I'll take an inventory of my closet and find out the percent of clothes that are actually mine. My guess is 37%. Style is about creativity and kleptomania.

One last thing, I want blonde hair again. Qu'est-ce que vous pensez?

gold and gluttony

Photos of me taken by française Kylie

sweater of gold- Cody's Mother, la robe bleu- Santa Barbara shop, tights- Target, et boots- Steve Madden

Well, well, well. As I type, I am sOoOooOo full of bread, cheese, and obviously wine from a little village called Beaujolais, an hour outside of Lyon, it just felt wrong to post anything but a comfy and cozy get-up worn on a rainy day, earlier this week. After enjoying the four hour lunch on a vineyard, I can't even bring myself to look at pictures of clothing smaller than 2XL, as I might just explode. I'm not complaining though. Gluttony was only considered a sin before diabetes pills and liposuction. Am I right? 

I feel this gold, blue, purple color scheme mixed with leather accessories marks an essential transition into fall sartorial adventures. A transition that's guaranteed to be tough when half of my wardrobe is residing on the other side of the planet. Challenges in creativity await.

Now remember to: 

1. Appreciate beauty in the world, even when there's no sunshine

2. LAUGH

polka dots and mustaches

Photos of me taken by française Kylie

la robe- found in my mother's closet et net-like tee- oohlala, Fresno

Well, I'd like to first thank my momma for letting me take this dress to France. I'm not quite sure she knew I stole it, but she sure does now! This outfit exemplifies my solution to wanting a mustache and curing awkward dress length: draw mustache on index finger, hide a belt underneath dress, secure hidden belt with a brooch, and throw a net shirt, reminiscent of Pocahontas river fishing, on top. I always feel safe wearing this top, because I know in nuclear holocaust, I'd have all the fish out of the Rhône first. Too bad I don't like fish. Also, in case you were seriously disturbed and perhaps thought that I take myself to be a really, really ridiculously good-looking, serious fashion model- refer to the last picture. And know that there's more to life than being really, really ridiculously good looking and I plan on finding out what that is, via blogging. Thank you.

americans in france

So, this is a style montage of my first month in France. Wow, did I just say month? It doesn't feel that long at all, but at the same time I feel adapted to my new life. I really do love it here. I have even found someone special to spend the rest of my days with- Oh Nutella, how I love thee. Beyond my overconsumption of chocolatey-hazelnut goodness, I wanted to showcase some of my American friends' impeccable sense of mode à la française. Let's just say, I have to be on my game to keep up. 

Sanaz

On Wednesdays, we wear pink

Rochelle

What I do to my hair when I am bored in French class. And then I wonder why I do not know French.

Kylie

Rad arm party de Kylie

And onto a section called Hannah:

Topknotting.

Tutu-ing.

Modeling.

Erin

Leo

Brandon

les chaussures de Brandon

Uce

Hannah- of course.

À demain!

blogger procrastination

I am currently sick with procrastination and this fool is plaguing 3 aspects of my life at this moment:

1. I should start studying for my French test à demain. Wait, that's French, right? Okay, actually I studied.
2. I should start packing for my weekend getaway to Aix-en-Provence à demain. Look at me, I'm studying again.
3. I should be actually blogging, but instead I'm doing a montage post as to simultaneously put off a real blog post and refrain from accomplishing goals 1 & 2.

Man, I'm good.

So, the procrastination post contains 3 hints to next week's posts: crazy French people, insanely fashionable Americans, and of course more of my wannabe french ensembles/mustaches.

This post is also a heartfelt goodbye for the weekend, as you won't be hearing from me until Monday. I know, it's so sad. While you weep make sure to reread post after post/comment/follow, I'll be getting at Aix-en-Provence and Aix-en-Provence better be getting at me. See you Monday, lovers!

sex and the city

Did I tell you I can fly..?

. . . and apply lipstick, too! 

I know what you're thinking- Yes, that is the phone I usually use to do blog business 

#dyingtobestreetstylephotographed

Photos of me taken by française Kylie

le blazer vintage- Maman's closet, un jean- Levi's, une chemise- ???, et des bottes- Steve Madden

Well, welcome to my cheetah print top. I can't even remember where I bought it, but I should probably warn you that I eat, sleep, and dream in this chemise, so it will be a definite regular on the blog. Get used to it. I am also currently treading into undefined territory with this new obsession with red lipstick. My dad seems to hate it, but I generally enjoy when I look in a mirror and see the joker staring back at me. The French seem to be down with my red lips, as they enjoyed The Dark Knight as much as us Americans. Onto more important matters- Have you noticed the lack of French on the blog? Well, I truly am sorry, but the French language is evil time consuming. Hopefully, by some chance I get hit by a bus, Regina George style, and wake up knowing French, the blog will resume its bilingual status. Until then...

And now for the grand finale:

Who did it best?

The gals of Sex and the City . . .  or . . .

Les femmes de Lyon

I'd like you to meet my nouvelles filles: Hannah, Sanaz and Kylie (aka français Kylie). Curers of homesickness, partners in Nutella crimes, and beautiful, beautiful souls. 

Now I ask you to choose, keeping in mind, while the SATC clan had a gaggle professional photographers, we put the camera on self-timer in the middle of a bridge:

Which four walk down the street in a straight line the best?

(And everyone knows it's completely impossible to stroll leisurely with 4 people down a sidewalk in Manhattan, let's get real SATC)