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Paris: the fashion capital of the world. I do confess I was planning outfits months before departing for the
stylish city with my group of friends in July this summer. But can you blame me
when it’s this fashion forward city that founded Haute Culture? The dream was
to blend in and become a temporary Parisian, just for a few days. But alas,
this was never to be.
After arriving on the Sunday evening we marched down to the
Metro. This was the first time we were spotted. My friend had a peep of midriff
on show, between jeans and a purple and black striped cropped t-shirt. She was
approached by a small elderly woman as we grasped on to the handrail who poked my friend in the stomach before claiming she was "showing too much - French men like the belly too much!" I had
bought my friend the top for her birthday with the view of her wearing it on our
trip, but failed to realise it would hinder our camouflage.
The next evening, after a day of exploring the capital in a July heat that required us to wear very little, we arrived at our accommodation
when a young French man called out to us: "welcome to my country, I am a nice
boy." We had been spotted again - four very BRITISH girls. It was these two
incidents plus a number of other looks and stares during the day that
made us realise we needed and wanted to change our ideas about how to dress in
this city
The trouble is we Brit girls dress for the weather. As soon
as the sun comes out so do our pale pins, hoping to turn them a little bit
golden. We wouldn’t think twice about strutting our bare legs in the streets of
London or adorning a cropped number on a night out. It’s hard to believe that
just over the Channel, clothing ideologies are so different that we felt this
out of place. Some may see this way of thinking as backwards, but to be honest I found it refreshing.
Instead the French let the clothes do the flirting for them
in feminine longer dresses or tight denims mixed with sharp tailoring – topped
off with loose locks and the manner of understated sexy. Fashion is no longer a
one-dimensional thing. With so many eclectic styles over the world it's hard
to believe that the sight of women in shorts was so rare. But after revealing everything
possible near to being naked, perhaps it’s time we thought about covering up.
On our Paris trip we decided to respect and adapt, folding our skimpy shorts back into suitcases and bringing out other more demure options. We roasted in jeans and
trousers for the rest of the trip. To a British eye, we looked ridiculously overdressed for the temperature, but we felt at ease.
More to the point, we blended in. I was thrilled when I was asked to reach for something on a high shelf while shopping. I had been mistaken for a Parisian. Although, I exposed my
identity when I gabbled an apology in English.
Au Revoir!
