The other day I was in Rambouillet when I spotted an attractive woman of a certain age with her most attractive mother of an age certain, as my friend Anne-Françoise says with a pronounced emphasis on the final “certain.”
I walked up to the pair, proffered my card and started my spiel, whereupon the woman said to me: “I know you.” Of course I’m thinking, well move over Sartorialist and Garance Doré, now you’ve got some serious competition.
She then continued, “The last time you asked me if you could take my picture, I told you ‘no,’ and it’s still ‘no’.”
Yikes! I didn’t recognize her. I’m not a masochist.
These are the types of encounters that keep me off the streets until I can stop reeling and recuperate. I’m feeling better and will recommence, but it takes time. I must heal. . .
Here then, a few more of my favorites.