As I stood waiting for my fellow travelers to finish leafing through the contents of a small bookstore in the city of Bristol, England, I picked up a charming, uniquely structured lifestyle book entitled, “How to be Parisian, Where Ever You Are.”
I should mention the cover (because I do judge books by their covers, on occasion). There was an illustration of a boxy, lean female figure with skinny jeans, boots and a long set of bangs who was carrying a cup of coffee and a cigarette in one hand. Essentially, a simple, inky drawing that expressed the care-free, don’t-give-a-shit vibe many women try to achieve since the age of seventeen. So naturally, I picked up what I sensed was a diamond in the rough, hoping it would tell me something I don’t already know.
This book is really just a massive and detailed description of an enigmatic female human being. This imaginary individual also happens to be the quintessential Parisian woman who was dreamed up in the image of the four Parisian women who author this strange book. The parisienne, as she is often referred to, is complex. She doesn’t contour her makeup or apply heat to her hair. She tries so much, only to appear like she doesn’t put in any effort. She doesn’t worry if she is too masculine or too feminine. She doesn’t worry what people think of her while sits on a park bench, alone with a book. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t care at all; she cares tremendously, about certain things. She cares about politics, the book she’s reading and whether or not her friends are having a good time. She has bad habits, great sense of style and quiet charm. Let me explain.
I adore conversations about bad habits and this book has an entire section about them. Late night chats after dinner, over drinks, with friends about the shit we do that we know we shouldn’t can be awfully therapeutic. We all have bad habits, after all. We don’t glorify them but we don’t completely condemn them either. We don’t ignore them but we don’t allow ourselves to feel excessively guilty. Do we romanticize them? A little. Should we own them? Absolutely. I’ll go first. Sometimes I don’t talk to my friends for long periods of time (I’m talking years, here). I forget to be polite to strangers. I have more patience than is probably healthy for any person to possess. I can give someone 5,000 chances and still believe they are capable of change.
The Parisian woman has a few of her own. She starts inappropriate conversations at dinner parties. Shows a little too much affection in public. Often, she is indecisive. She likes to make her lover think she has a lover (on purpose). She is apparently, from what I can tell, known for using high levels of emotional literacy to play with people’s feelings like a game of chess. Are these habits ever going to be broken? Maybe. Maybe not.
Of course, it isn’t possible to even think about the Parisienne without lingering on the topic of fashion. It might be easy to assume that it is nearly impossible to emulate the lasting, iconic style that is often born in Paris, especially for a native Nebraskan, like myself. My childhood was filled with huge sunsets, horse shows, friendly people, tornado warnings and, sadly, slightly-trend heavy, outdated fashion sense. It takes a little more time for the latest sartorial aesthetic to reach the Great Plains region, in awareness and availability. It seems, though, it might not be that hard to achieve. It isn’t glamour that we should strive for, it’s natural beauty. Our flawed, real beauty that we already possess is good enough. No need to do much more.
As it would seem, no one needs Logos, skimpy tops, designer bags, polyester, excessive jewelry or “bling.” Sometimes, less is more, which is wonderful for a person like myself, who is trying to embrace minimalism. Consumption is an endless pit, after all, that destroys the planet and our bank accounts. There will never be a shortage of stuff and we will never be truly satisfied with any of it. This hippy, tree huggerish worldview is, much to my surprise (and joy), highly compatible with the parisienne’s sartorial cues.
A low key style is about finding natural beauty and refusing to add value to ourselves through material items. Wear something because you love it, not because it’s trendy. There is a particular emphasis placed on having a “signature item.” This does not refer to an expensive piece of jewelry or bag. A signature item simply helps you express who you are and goes with practically everything you own. An entire wardrobe can be built around this one piece. It could be as simply as an old jacket or pair of jeans.
Self help books are often very prescriptive of detailed framework for how people should live their lives. However, if the advice given is in direct opposition to the kind of advice that could be drawn from publications such as Cosmo or Glamour, religious institutions, Mass Media and the like, I tend to be at least curious. If the advice I am given frowns upon fast fashion, promotes less consumption and emphasizes quality instead of quantity, then I listen very closely. ‘How to be Parisian, Where Ever You Are’ is full of the latter; it condemns high maintenance, constrictive lifestyles for women and is full of suggestions for any young, 20-something woman who is in the process of constructing her own worldview (because she is too stubborn to accept anyone else’s). Much to my entertainment, it does so with a less political and more free-spirited, soulful tone.
For the parisienne, luxury exists in simplicity, self-acceptance and courage. This book could easily be entitled, ‘How to be a mimimalist, wherever you are’ or ‘How to not give a shit, where ever you are.’ The Parisian woman is a dreamer, but we all are. Do we need to go to Paris to be reborn? I don’t believe so. We just need to spend some time on our own, preferably in the countryside. We need to become our own best friend, embrace who we are (the good and the bad), and remember: anything goes.
