Archive | March, 2010


25 Mar

I sat in a cafe the morning after I arrived in Melbourne and ordered a coffee. Normal.

The waiter asked me all sorts of questions about how I’d like it. Not normal.

I made a joke. Normal.

We conversed some more, non coffee related, witty repartee. Not normal.

Oh Australia, it has been a long time since I’ve talked the talk with my morning coffee. It felt strange, but I liked it!

I think I actually forgot I had it in me.


Love lost.

22 Mar

Well, yep, it’s true. My Frenchman said ‘au revoir‘ before i left for Australia. Though it wasn’t the romantic au revoir i had been playing out (a lot) in my head (the one with the airport, the flowers, the tears, the kisses, you know the one).

The way it really played out was not the way i had fantasised about at all! I definitely didn’t expect to be waiting in the freezing cold at the metro for someone to tell me they are not in love with me. But that my friends, is exactly what i got. Though i did accurately predict the tears. Life’s still got it’s upsides, eh?

We walked around for hours, while he told me all about how much he cared about me, and respected me, and wanted to be around me. Mais il ne peut pas avoir la crème et le crèmerie. A crushing blow.

To cut a long story short, he didn’t want to have the pressure of thinking that i might be coming back from Australia to be in Paris for him.

As angry as i was at his arrogance, the one thing it made me do is sit up and start focusing on why i really am in Paris. And though it has been a lovely distraction, this sexiest, most charming man i have ever seen is not the only reason.

There’ll be another man. There ain’t going to be another Paris.


17 Mar

Well, i’ve landed in the sunburned country, and managed, already, to be just that.

I sat out in the sun for 5 or 10 minutes to enjoy a jet lagged coffee with my mum (it was me that was jetlagged, the coffee, thank goodness, was fine) and in this inconceivably short amount of time, my arms managed to turn the colour of a lobster! Wow, my it has been a very long time since my little white arms have been exposed to such heat.

I managed to completely write myself off the night before my flight* and ended up sleeping almost the entire 22 hours from Paris to Melbourne, albeit with a little break for the first meal. A lovely flight was had. (Funny that the first meal was able to keep in my stomach all day was consumed while up in the air.)

My prediction however, on the nature of my relationship status was indeed correct. I think perhaps the acute thrill of sunshine is temporarily masquerading my pain.**

But, hear i am (with very sore arms) determined to make the most of a pool in the back garden and a mother who cooks my dinner.

An anxious wait for my new visa, thinly disguised as a holiday in the sun!

*This little outing will most certainly be in need of a new post entirely.

** As above, more details to follow.

It’s In His Kiss.. (that’s where it is)

11 Mar

So, i am getting super excited about my upcoming trip to Australia!

I do however have a terrible feeling that i might find myself ‘sans boyfriend’ before i depart. I have no actual factual evidence to support this, except that which Cher told me. ‘It’s in his Kiss. (that’s where it is, wo..wo..wo)’

If Cher sung it, it must be true. I mean, she also predicted that navy sailors would be wearing leather bondage outfits, and, ahem, i think it’s safe to say she hit the money on that one too.

So, we’ll see. I’m feeling a little insecure at the moment. All i can do is enjoy my last week in Paris, my beautiful city, before i fly off to warm my (single?) bones in the sunny sand of Melbourne.

But something is rotten in the state of Denmark dear readers. Perhaps i need a ‘Sassy Gay Friend‘ to set me straight!


YSL Retrospective

11 Mar

Just a little somethin-somethin’ for all that crave a little fashion porn of a cold winter’s night……

It’s Suzy Menkes interviewing Pierre Berger and a bit of a cheeky look at the exhibit at the Petit Palais.

And, I want to say congratulations to my FFF (favourite French friend), who has been working so hard to put this exhibition together. So hard i have actually forgotten what she looks like.

Can’t wait to see it!

Search and You Will Find. Non?

8 Mar

Very often, my fellow Australian compatriots will ask me to explain to them what I actually mean when I mention those fundamental differences in culture between the French and ourselves. (And then I berate myself every time for even bringing it up in the first place.)

These differences in attitude (or beliefs, ways of life – whatever you want to call it) are explained in countless different ways in the pages of the travel section of your local bookstore. All of these interpretations are extremely interesting – often enlightening – but are rarely summed up into something easy enough to explain to someone over an impossibly delayed and pixellated Skype conversation.

Anyway, on with the story.

At dinner last night, I was having one of my regular humiliatingly poor conversations in French with my Frenchman’s friend, when we became stuck for the answer to a hotly debated question.

‘Nevermind’ I said, ‘as soon as I get home I’ll look up google and find the answer’.

The Frenchman’s friend gave me quite the accusing look. ‘Tu le trouveras?’

I didn’t understand. Shit. Had I said the wrong thing in French? I had already humiliated myself earlier in the night by asking this guy’s girlfriend if she had a vagina, instead of a cat. I couldn’t bear much more than that.

Oui” I said. “Je le trouverai. Avec google.

All the Frenchies looked at each other with a mild source of amusement and interest.

In fact I had said nothing wrong aside from the fact that it seemed bizarre for them that I would be so presumptuous to suggest that I would find something, without first thinking of actually searching for it.

Explaining that it is common to use the verb find, in the act of locating something, was met with daft expression. I think they thought I was either arrogant, or simple.

But here in lies a fundamental difference in attitude.

Perhaps we are presumptuous. But in Australia, if one is to embark on a search, we expect to find something. We in our young, crazy country may be presumptuous, naive, uncomplicated beings. But we are positive. And with exertion, we expect to get results.

The french by contrast will always remain sceptical of jumping the gun. Unless they have exactly what they were looking for in their hot little hand, they will never declare a war won. They are measured and, from where I’m sitting, pessimistic to a fault (though I think they call that a réaliste non)!?

An optimistic outlook isn’t something that has made its way into French popular culture just yet. I think it’s something that, if it ever will exist, will only be possible for les Français in the very distant future.

That is, if they are able to look far enough into the future to be able to find it.

A Cold Complaint

4 Mar

What is SO wrong with me wearing white socks in Paris?

It is fucking freezing.

They are thicker, and they are warmer.

They are ankle socks and you can’t even see them unless i take my boots off.

If you can see them you are paying far too much attention.

Your feet are cold, yet you are laughing at me.