Nightmare in Paris

Before this summer, my "Paris experience"could have been defined only by the images and words that coloured books and articles with descriptions of the city. The word "Paris", to me, meant romance, fascination, that iconic idea of "joie de vivre." My infatuation, founded on ideals I had never experience, would continue to grow until I finally booked my plane ticket. Destination: Paris.  Despite the occasional disgruntled Parisian, it was everything I had envisioned it to be, my perception strongly influenced by my inexplicable and loyal love for Paris. Although my objective was to absorb as much of the Parisian way of life as possible, I came with a promise I intended to keep. Two actually. The first: bring back the most handsome Parisian man, and begin what would become a life long love story. And if, by some strange and unusual incident this would have failed to occur, I had a second promise. There it is. The one item I promised myself I wouldn't leave Paris without. Much more glamorous and reliable than any man, anyway.

 (picture taken in Barcelona, by my brother: www.tgandjam.tumblr.com)

The story of the YSL ring and I does, however, unfold as the most classic of love stories. It begins with an innocent look, one which then turned quickly into desire. My eyes refused to wander passed the borders of the little glass box in which in was securely encased. I knew I had to have it. Not only was it the ultimate accessory, but it would be my one tangible memory of Paris, in its most honest form. It was the only size left in the colour I wanted. And then the woman handed me the white box, the black ribbon almost covering the gold detailing reading "Yves Saint Laurent."I placed it securely in the palm of my hands, not willing to risk a change of losing it in the open black whole of my purse. It was only when I stepped out of my second cab to my hotel, did I realize I no longer had it.

A sudden sense of panic overcame me. It was nowhere to be found. I had lost it. Not only had a broken my promise, but the thought of someone else wearing MY ring was torturous. Unfaithfulness at its worst. I knew I left it in the cab, and I assumed my cab driver to have been the stereotypical representation of careless locals who despised tourist. There was no way I would ever see it again. Having exhausted all possible alternatives, I returned to the YSL store, carrying the heavy burden of a near-broken heart. I didn't know what I was looking for, however, that didn't seem to matter. As soon as I walked in, the saleslady didn't greet me with the customary "Bonjour." Instead, she surprised me with a familar little white box. "You forgot this in your cab. The driver brought it back. Can't tell you how lucky you are, mademoiselle."

And so it continues, the promised life-long love story. I only have Paris to thank.

L'Enfant Terrible

It was a friday afternoon, the weather permeated by cold and a light drizzle. I rushed out of school to make it in time for what would be one of the last showings for Jean Paul Gaultier's exhibit at Le Musee des Beaux Arts in Montreal. My eagerness, however,  quickly turned to despair as I saw the massive line of people winding down the street. Allow me break down the unfolding concerns: 1. I was supposed to meet my mom, and I was absolutely certain she hadn't left work yet. 2. I still hadn't bought tickets. 3. the ticket booth was closing in 15 minutes. 4. given the circumstances, I was ready to jump in front of a moving car (dramatic, I know, but that's my style). So, just as I was about to strategically throw myself in the path of an oncoming vehicle (not really, but you know), I hear someone yell my name. My mom was standing at the front of the line, with a pair of tickets in her hands. You know that famous scene in movies, where is sounds like angels are singing and the world is a better place? Yeah, that's what happened. In my mind of course.

It's been a couple of days since I've been, although I haven't had a chance to post some of the pictures I took until now. I don't even know how I'll be able to transmit the emotion and wonder I felt into words, but let me begin with showing you what could have potentially been one of the most powerful experiences I've had in a while.

Really weird/interesting concept: the mannequins had molded faces, onto which an talking video of a real person was projected. Even Jean Paul Gaultier made an appearance and welcomed us to his show. 

The iconic coned bra for Madonna's "Blond Ambition World Tour" in 1990: 

Petit Jean: 

My favourite:  

Everyone knows about Jean Paul Gaultier, but then again, no one really does. His story begins with his grandmother, the woman who spurred in him the desire to be one of the most daring designers, exploring the possibilities brought by the likes of sex, religion, race, and culture. With his incomparable ability to create flourishing trends, and the perfect degree of flamboyance, he created his path for success. He's one of those people, who's history and life story can do nothing but awe and amaze. It can perhaps inspire you, or undermine the pride you attach to your own success, or do both. It kind of had that doubling effect on me. It makes you wonder how a single man, with a single vision, was able to take in all that inspired him in the world and, and spit it all out in the form of lavish couture. I am going to be cheesy for a moment, but this is my blog, and I'm allowed. Cheesy moment number 1:  His clothes aren't just clothes. There's a monumental attention to detail in everything he does. Not one careless stitch, only opportunities to create something groundbreaking.  Cheesy moment number 2 : He changed the world as we know it, forever and always. And I just want to give him an informal "merci."

Yves Saint-Laurent Woman Autumn/Winter 2011 Campaign

Yves Saint-Laurent has once again managed to captivate the hearts of women (and possibly men) all over the world, with its new Autumn/Winter 2011 Campaign. There is something undeniably special about haute couture, the feelings it evokes going beyond the technicalities of pattern making, or textile-related processes. YSL is about the lifestyle, the lifestyle of those who dedicate their creative efforts into making meaningful works of art for the rest of us to enjoy. It's about the culture, the tradition, and it's fabulous. 

source: High Snobette