When they choose jeans, they come inevery imaginable shape, but almost always in shades of blue. They can be rolled, ripped, boyfriend or second skin. The rest of the ensemble is the personal style of each woman. No two women ever have the same look.
The simplicity of a white linen man’s shirt for example, becomes sultry feminine when Cristel tucks it loosely into her jeans, rolls the sleeves and leaves that extra button ever-so-carelessly unbuttoned. (My inclination would have been a neat tuck or worn out — proof I’m still on a learning curve.)
Others chose light tunics, a waist coat, plaid shirts, and much of the time, scarves. Sandals are beginning to appear.
The country is friendly territory for me. Rarely does anyone say, “non, merci,” when I request a walk through. The problem this week was that I wasn’t out and about as much as I would have liked. More next week, I promise.