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what if I think dressing like a French girl is bullshit?

me pictured above trying to look as elegant as naturally possible with a bad weave and unruly boobs











Hear ye, hear ye. 

Come let us gather and cast the first stone. The blogosphere needs an intervention. French minimalism is out of control. Yes it's effortlessly chic, transcendent, iconic, superior, and I hear one glimpse upon Parisian street style can even cure cancer, but who cares for all that! Who the heck are these girls anyway that are completely and utterly idolizing the French style of dress, going on and on with posts like this or this one here? Oh, those are mine. Well, I'm a woman and I have the perogative to change my mind like Britney Spears said. And she's one smart cookie. Plus, didn't she look killer back in the 90s rocking red latex catsuits and denim on denim bustier gowns? See, Americans have style that speaks for itself - interventions warranted or not.

When I was a naive teenager, I would buy some French fashion magazines from the Publix grocery store. I'd take them home and "oooooh" and "aaaaah" over the flawless spreads. I swore when I grew up I'd always dress like the Parisian models. Who wouldn't want to be one of those wafer-thin, stylish beauties? Wait....did I say wafer? Yummmmm vanilla wafers! My body and tastes have changed over time, and a southern banana pudding sounds more appealing than a classic silk blouse.

So now, I steer clear of the French fashion je ne sais quoi, because frankly it's...BULLSHIT. I'm American. I need to be able to gain new-relationship-weight (what I call the "BF20") without fear of being deported. I have breasts too. Grapefruits, not lemons. 

This is anatomically foreign to French women. I should be thankful they love their jackets open and swinging because trying to button my knockers into anything is like getting two toddlers into a car for school in the morning - it rarely happens willingly. Then there's the whole problem of me being born black. Ahhh. Have you ever seen extensions mimic perfect bedhead hair without two hours of work and enough product to become an in-flight terrorist threat? I think the time has come to knock the damn French heroine off her pedestal and embrace our second-best nature. They can't possibly look that good all the time right. Let me intercept with my somewhat feminist coded anthem of American style. It ain't too bad.


Sweatpants Are a Wardrobe Staple 
  
You see, sweatpants don't scream, "I've given up!". They whisper seductively, "I'm comfy and you're not." There is nothing more cozy than those fleece lined pieces of heaven. They are the epitome of warmth, comfort, and stretchiness. A better pair of "buffet pants" has not been designed. French women do not embrace this concept. Are there even buffets in France? Even if there were, I doubt they need elastic anything. They could devour a whole rotisserie chicken without a bulge in sight. I think I could explore the minimalist, capsule wardrobe in my sweats. They make lots of coordinating styles and colors in tops and bottoms for you to mix-n-match. And, because you'll be invisible to anyone with innate style, you can get by with just 5 pairs of sweatpants and 5 sweatshirts. It might not be a 'french 5-piece wardrobe', but at $5.00 a pop, it doesn't get more minimal than that! 


My Boobs Catch Crumbs and Drips 

Listen, let's cut the crap. I've got jugs. Not in a Mad Men worthy way mind you, but there's no tucking them away. You never see French women with their tits just flopping around before 9pm. I'd love to try the art of seduction, but mine are on a platter whether I want them to be or not. Elusive and mysterious was weened out of my style vocabulary after puberty. I realize now I prefer a bit of overtly sexiness a la Kim Kardashian. Who the hell wants to be prudently modest all the time? I can't even if I tried anyway. Every outfit I own has some random stain right on the chest. Delicious memories of meals past. 

Clearly white clothes are no-no's. The big red stain on the white blouse...salsa at La Tortilleria. The grease spot over the right boob...BBQ Bob's Buffet. Such wonderful times. And, these stains just don't come out. Sometimes, I just put a lovely brooch over the stain. I wish brooches would come back in style. Crumbs on dark shirts are another problem. If I'm wearing a low cut top, they fall down into my bra nicely. Otherwise, my whole chest area looks like I have mega dandruff. Real sexy. And the longer it all festers, the more I'm scratching like I have fleas in my brassiere. Classic.

  
I Drive a Compact Car 

Slim skirts or slacks and blouses are confining. I like to breathe. I like to eat. I like to drive my compact car. Well, I don't like to drive it, but I do squeeze my ass into a compact car as my mode of transportation from time to time. When I get into my little shoebox on wheels wearing normal clothes, it's tough to get in. Put me in a slim skirt or slacks that restrict movement, and it's virtually impossible. Something is bound to split at the seams. And dang, with a 5 piece wardrobe, I can't afford to rip one! I'm sure we'll never get to see little Indian men lifting French women onto a gurney from their cars, but I am positive before all memorable street style pics are snapped that is what happens. Or maybe they're ejected like a pilot straight onto the sidewalk like a tall poised goddess. Surely this is why half the country dresses like a serenely exotic tomboy, a look I have finally given up on. Trust me, if I dress up like a man and zip through Paris on a bike, the result is not pretentious effortlessness, the result is something between an escaped convict and Naomi Campbell on a bad day.


My Secret Lady GaGa Alter Ego is a Slut

I admit it, I'm a little monster. I like to get a little freaky in my clothes, just occasionally. A little leather and latex, rips and tears; zippers and chains are my secret passion. I'm not talking about meat formals, but a prim and proper french fashion style is just not me. I need more than a french minimalist wardrobe to express myself. Heck, I was born this way. Let your freak flag fly.


I'm an American and Damn Proud 

Our great nation was founded on the principle of freedom of choice. The Declaration of (Fashion) Independence should state:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all American women are created freaking awesome, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are fashion, unique style and the pursuit of shoes..." 

I love all things America. I can't stand our current principles, but by golly if we aren't the best at being a hot mess. Which in turn is now culturally acceptable. I mean have you seen Amanda Bynes lately?  Homeless chic is in. Always. I wear mismatched socks. I buy t-shirts from gas stations and thrift shops from every town I visit on vacation, and I wear them. A 5-piece minimalist wardrobe of monotones "a la France" makes me feel like we've taken a step backwards in fashion. I say, "viva la American individuality". After all, we created Vogue magazine. That has to stand for something right!

8 comments

  1. Great photo, full of vintage.. Like it so much!

    xx,
    Leverette

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    1. Thanks Leverette! How'd you know it was all vintage? Great guess. Can't keep a secret on this here blog I guess :)

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  2. lol yes, the boobs!!! it's so true. there is no dressing like a french gamine with boobs unless you crush them to oblivion. sigh

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    1. Haha exactly! It's what I call the straight jacket going butch lesbian effect!

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  3. You are so gifted in the way you write, I loved reading this. I know what you mean about boobs. Why does the fashion industry favour women who are practically flat chested? You look fab!

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    1. Thank you so much Lorna, you are always too sweet and generous with your words. I always am scared I sound like a douche, but humor is my remedy to many things so I take the chance every time pen goes to paper. Then I pare down after typing so I don't annoy the crap out of everyone with endless self deprecation haha.

      To boobs!

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  4. LMAO! I adored this! I could have written half of it myself. Free the boobs! The problem with the French chic is that it doesn't really allow for body diversity. Minimalism and fashion simply require being customized. I personally love your brand of minimalism and fashion!

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    1. Hahaha thanks Sarah! We always have the same humor for sure. Your kind words are too flattering. Real girl bodies unite! ;)

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