She’s back! And she’s as fashionable as ever.
The problem with my Inner French girl is that she makes me want to spend all my money. Not that I could really pull off such a skimpy camisole (she can, because she’s French and works in an art gallery), but those trousers and leopard flats? I think I could make those work. She’s actually taking a page out of my book, seeing as I have that Astier de Vilatte notebook, that lip balm, the Caudalie beauty elixir, and that book (the French translation of “Seven Days in the Art World,” which by the way I’m almost finished and am enjoying every second of). Maybe I’m more chic than I thought.