Welcome back to the French countryside near Paris in the center of a tiny village full of chic women and adorable boutiques.
Are you picking up on the rhythm, the high notes of enthusiasm, the lilt? All masking my failure to snap hot shots in the big city? Before anyone jumps to false conclusions about my timidity and lack of initiative (which could be the explanation, I admit, but it’s not) in pursuit of that most difficult of species, the Parisian woman, it’s because I haven’t been to Paris this week — not yet that is, tomorrow I have a lunch date. Wish me luck with my camera and my banter.
My other plans for the week in the city resulted in a re-scheduled appointment and lunch with a friend pushed to next Wednesday. In other words, I have time to work up a clever repartee that not only compliments the subjects, but also assures them I have no intention of selling their pictures to porn sites. (As La Duchesse pointed out, there is no doubt an enormous market for women of a certain age in trench coats and tennis shoes.)
Once again the weather didn’t permit. Sweaters and jackets were the rule of the day. Comme toujours you’re seeing some of the usual suspects, but I found a few new faces.