I lived in the south of France for a longtime. The weather was beautiful. I was young. I was in love. I had a scooter, amazing friends, and all was well. I tore through tons of magazines. I loved fashion, but it still felt a bit far.

But I gotta add, the simple fact that I would walk around in heels in the middle of the day would make people turn and look. Suddenly the boys felt it was ok to whistle at me. That’ll turn you off a little. So I learned to dress myself relatively simply, just to avoid the hassle. I still felt like one of the best dressed girls on the street, and I was always looking for stylish friends, exciting boutiques, and inspiring women.

The day I first arrived in Paris was a true shock. I had been plenty of times before… but to live there, it’s a totally different thing. Suddenly, me, who was relatively at ease with my own style, I felt like I got my thought of “one of the best dressed girls on the street” shoved back down my throat. Good lesson.

I met impeccably stylish girls who were relaxed, cool, unique. Girls with the most amazing looks. The most resourceful girls who could find YSL at Zara prices. Super feminine girls that never asked for a second, “What’ll they think of me?”

For the first few months, I felt like a rough draft of a woman. But when you love fashion, you learn quick.

And today, it seems only natural for me to leave my house in 5 inch heels or in a bustier in the middle of the day, or even a shirt disguised as a dress, and yet none of it even raises the eyebrow of my newspaper guy on the street and so I wonder…

Has anything really changed? What gives breath to fashion when you live far from the fashion capitals of the world?

Translation : Tim Sullivan