Monday 21 November 2016

The bags under my eyes are Chanel: My interpretation of French style.



The French have style. I’m not just talking about a ‘my shoes go with my bag’ kind of style, i’m talking about a whole lifestyle dedicated to being #chic. I was in Jardin du Luxembourg in Paris last week, and it was the most beautiful public space I have ever seen in my life. Every rose petal, every perfectly cut lawn of grass, and every pebblestone that lay on the pathway, was not a single degree off perfection. When you visit parks in Paris, you feel like you could be part of an impressionist painting. Strolling along the pathways you feel like Renoir could be sitting on the bench right across from you, dabbling away on his easel with half a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Jardin du Luxembourg does not feel like the kind of ‘park’ i’m used to back in Australia. Jardin to Luxembourg is living, breathing, permanent 5D art installation. Smartly dressed children quietly play with their sailing boats on the pond, while their parents recline on the individual green art deco chairs provided. Everyone that I passed throughout the park was also somehow so polished and refined, clearly taking pride in their appearance. I saw a elderly woman in her 70’s wearing the most classic shift dress with a beige shawl, and holding her hand beside her was a young girl about 9 wearing a red beret, looking like she had just stepped out of Madeline. Walking around the park it was apparent that no one was shouting, no one was being loud, and the only form of racquet that I heard was a boy that shouted, ‘pas encore!’ (Not again!) when he realised that he’d just lost his chess game. Lovers playfully kissed on the bench to the right of me, and school students nibbled away at their baguettes on the bench to the left of me. It’s also worth noting that the grass throughout the park is absolutely not for walking on. ‘Oh sacré bleu my hat just flew off onto the grass, what should i do?’’ You find yourself wondering? Leave it. Forget about it. It’s gone. Keep walking. If someone is not aware of this rule and steps onto the grass, they will be quietly told to “step off immediately” by a fellow watching ranger, and/or an angry Parisian. Parks in France are a perfect example of the French beauty, over practicality, approach to life. If an Englishman was to ask a Frenchman, ‘ha-whey man ye kana innit canny weird that the graz is def there for like walkin’ oan n playin’ football oan summick, lyk’ a Frenchman would probably respond: “Yes my sweet little english mcmuffin, but isn’t it so much more pleasurable to admire this beautiful grass rather than stamping aggressively all over it?” After I thought I was finished playing around in my 50% reality 50% daydream of Jardin du Luxembourg, I heard a faint sound of music coming from the north wing of the park. It was official, Paris had officially outdone itself. Before me stood 50 piece jazz band with a conductor all dressed in black, completely free for the people of the Paris. This for me, was France.








I wanted to share my experience that I had at Jardin du Luxembourg because it’s the best analogy that I think of that illustrates French style. To the French it would be crude to talk about their ‘style’ because it’s something they were born into, it’s practically engrained into their DNA. The way colour coordinated macaroons are so perfectly placed in the shop windows, the way a perfectly groomed Pomeranian sits by its owner at a restaurant, the way an adolescent drinks their wine and water at the dinner table; it’s all done in such a uniquely French manner. At the beginning it all felt very rigid and strict to me, I mean I come from a country where half the population doesn’t even wear shoes. After the first couple of weeks I reminded myself that in order to crack to the language I needed to assimilate into French culture as much as possible. Once I started getting into a routine and seeing how people lived on a day to day basis, it was suddenly apparent that there was a very clear ‘French way’ to do things. 

Everything is very relaxed back in Australia, including the fashion, where you can wear whatever you want, whenever you want. The style of fashion between your middle class Frenchmen and your middle class Australian is certainly worlds apart. As a generalisation in Australia, girls have a lot of clothes, because we wear different things for different occasions. We have home clothes, beach clothes, casual clothes, smart clothes, and the infamous clubbing clothes. In France, girls have clothes they wear inside the house, and then clothes they wear outside the house. The quality over quantity rule is a reoccurring theme in French lifestyle. French women invest in stable wardrobe pieces, and stick to them everyday. Australian girls go op-shopping and buy 20 pieces for 10 dollars, but only keep the clothes for 4 months. There are hundreds of books attempting to un-crack the code to how to ‘dress like a French woman’, but it’s really not that difficult. If you want attempt to look French, stick to neutral colours, buy 5 pairs of jeans, buy a fitted blazer, throw out all your figure hugging clothes, throw out all your shorts, throw out all your clothes with labels on them, buy 5 scarves; et voilà. 

The French wear the same things during the week as they do on the weekends. In Australia every student who goes to school must wear a school uniform. Whether it’s a school shirt, or a school blazer, you must wear something with a school emblem on it. Uniform brings a sense equality and suppresses potential competition, but in turn, suppresses individuality. At my school in Australia we were stripped of any chance of being different. Girls were not allowed to wear jewellery, makeup, nail polish, or change our hair to a non-natural looking hair colour. Socks had to be a certain colour, and even wearing a bra that wasn’t clearly white or beige was a quick way to get sent home. On the weekends in Australia, girls feel like they are set free of their shackles and have the opportunity to remind boys that they are in fact, girls. Tight body con dresses and un-walkable high heels was always a famous ‘go to’ party outfit. This is a very clear difference between France and anglo-sexton countries. Not even prostitutes on the side of the road in France are caught wearing super tight body con dresses. Girls in the clubs in France are wearing the same jeans, jacket and ballet flats that they were wearing previously at dinner. 

No one wants to look like they’re trying too much in France, and it’s seen as vulgar if you look like you’re too dressed up. It’s like the time I was getting ready to go out on a date and my French friend said to be in the bathroom, “maybe don’t worry about makeup Taylor”. The next day she told me if a girl wears makeup on a first date it can often be misleading, kind of like if she was to wear high heels.  Makeup is a much loved product in Australia just like other anglo countries, and i’ve been with friends in Australia who have taken a whole 40 minutes to apply all their desired makeup. I'm not a fan of makeup because I'm inherently lazy and it takes (what feels like) years to scrape all off. French girls are hardly ever caught wearing makeup. It’s hard to be a French girl you see, because in Australia if you’re ugly you can at least convince everyone that you’re someone else by contouring your face and wearing misleading clothes. In France, you’re kind of stuck. French style is about looking sophisticated, but at the same time looking #effortless. Nothing is more un-effortless to the French than seeing a woman wearing an uncomfortably bright pink dress and wearing makeup like industrial house paint. French woman may appear cool and collected on the exterior, but it’s sure that they are each individually fighting their own battles to make maintain their desirable ‘French woman’ image. Expectations that they maintain a feminine petite figure, that they have a perfectly tailored wardrobe, great skin, perfectly shaped nails, naturally shinny hair, and all while that they #literally #wokeuplikethis. 

My first english speaking friend that I made in Nantes was called Simon. Simon owns a clothing store called California Concept Store which sells clothes inspired by the surf and skating lifestyle culture. I got told by my French friends that he is a nice contact to have because the store is very well known for being a ‘cool place’ to go. Last night I went to a party that California Concept Store was hosting along side the label Tealer (weed aesthetic independent French music label), and it was called ‘Tealer Kush Party’. Aside from the cringeworthy name of the event it was really good, and was not one bit of the #smokeweedeveryday vibe I thought it was going to be. California Concept Store would not be as successful if it was in Australia, because it’s what most of our clothes shops are already like, and have been like for a while. Because the French style is often so strict, any clothing shop that gives people the freedom to wear something a bit different and get away with it, is celebrated. California Concept Store is seen to be selling ‘alternative’ clothes in Nantes, and if someone is wearing a snapback they seen as a #fashionrebel. The youth in Australia stopped wearing the American jock/snapback hats in around 2013. The only trend that I can see in France that has really taken off is the ‘hipster’ look, and it will continue to stay around because anything that makes you look intellectual here is #chic. The French stick to what they know best, and are not ones to follow trends. In Australia we are completely influenced by ‘trends of the season’, like vintage grandma, 70s boho hippy child/Jim Morrisons girlfriend, sport lux, sea punk, turnt up, bindis/circa 90s, and all the rest. The French are not interested because they know it’s their classic style that will stand the test of time. Of course they’re right, but at the same time I think it’s important to go through different fashion subcultures when you’re an younger because you’re #emotional, and trying to figure yourself out. One of my French friends always talks to me about her dream of moving to London, because she knows she could wear whatever she wanted in London, and wouldn’t stand out like she would in France. 

Have you ever had the pleasure of witnessing a French person write? If so, you will know how beautiful it was. In French primary schools, cursive handwriting classes are compulsory that start from a very young age. In high school, calligraphy is a popular class option from the art classes provided. When I was studying French at university, I remember my professor telling me that once her teacher in primary school refused to mark her work because she said it wasn’t written neat enough. The French appreciate maintaining refined beauty in every detail of their life. I was having lunch at a French friends family home one time, and I put my water bottle on the table because I was drinking from it before, and it was still half full. My friends mum was clearly not impressed as she swooped my water bottle away to the kitchen and instead replaced it with a glass. ‘Nous ne buvons pas d'une bouteille d'eau à la table (we don't drink from a water bottle at the table)” she told me. Awkward. 

As ecologically sustainable as banning single-use plastic bags sounds, I think it’s clear that France also banned them because they weren’t #chic enough. Just like paying taxes, and voting in elections, being stylish is a duty of being a French citizen. When you’re born in a country that has given birth to some of the worlds biggest fashion houses, it’s expected that you’ve taken a few notes. When a nation’s favourite pastime is sitting at a cafe and people watching, nothing goes by unnoticed. Living in France you are a part of a society that will notice the slightest things when you walk by, like the way your scarf is tied, how your sunglasses rest on your face, or even how you light your cigarette. But don’t be fooled, style and money is not the same thing in France. Talking about money in the slightest, like dropping how much your shoes cost in conversation, is seen as extremely distasteful. The French can afford to wear their beautiful stable pieces everyday because their favourite hobbies are done sitting stationary; reading, writing, eating, drinking, judging. In Australia you can’t afford to wear your favourite Kym Ellery dress to a BBQ because someone will spill tomato sauce or VB all down the front of it. Our favourite hobbies in Australia include getting dirty, so we can’t always wear stylish clothes; but for the French the only dirty activities they enjoy don’t involve wearing any clothing at all. 

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