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Oct 8, 2015

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.
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