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In the almost-five years I’ve lived in Paris, I’ve meticulously observed the women around me. I’ve seen their styles change, the trends evolve and the sartorial paradigm shift from classically bourgeois (read: safe) to romantic bohemian. The younger generations are getting more daring with color and fabrics while the older remain faithful to their earthy palettes and trusted designers.
Evolutions aside, the revered and elusive mystique of the French woman has simultaneously fascinated and intimidated women all over the world for generations. Naturally slender, aloofly confident, and unbearably cultured and polished, French women have all the trappings of a mythical goddess. They move with ineffable grace, master the effortlessly tousled coif and swear by the quality-over-quantity mantra. We love them, we hate them, and we’re terribly envious of their innately good taste. But are they really worth all the fuss?
This romanticized image of the French woman as a paragon of style has traditionally been represented by cinematic icons Catherine Deneuve, Brigitte Bardot, Sophie Marceau and Juliette Binoche; women who, while forever associated with glamour and sensuality, are no longer relevant examples of the modern French woman. Their classic looks and polished faces…
