Four Seasons of Fashion

Four Seasons of Fashion




I have been in Paris for 5 months now and let us not forget the exploratory stint back in October and November 2009...and I have noticed a few things about the Center of the Fashion world. It is important to note, Parisian runways are light years away from Paris walkways...what graces the pages of Elle, Vogue and L’Officiel does not often make the local scene.



Colors! Oh the colors of fashion in Paris. Let’s see...in Fall one finds shades of grey and layer upon layer of camisoles, “pulls” and scarves. Winter brings black into partner with grey and leather or suede boots of every shape, length and heel height adorn feet as fashion statements...not a smidge of practicality to be found.



You know Spring has sprung when brown supplants grey to soften the black. Boots, scarves and jackets seem to be season-less...it could be 28 degrees Celsius (to find Fahrenheit, multiply 28 x 9, divide by 5 and add 32) and you’ll see scores of women and men trudging down the Champs Elysees draped in a jacket, swathed in a scarf and clogging along in clodhoppers all for fashion’s sake!



Before coming to Paris, I bought what I thought was a chic trench coat in a lemony-buttery shade of yellow...great for April and May showers...nay. nay...yikes! Too much color! And the only trench coats I’ve seen are on older folks in business attire. So much for Samantha Brown’s trendy Passport to Europe fashion tip...but, I like my raincoat so when showers fall, I put it on, adorn it with a cute little slip of silk about my neck and pop up my Pylone white umbrella. At least the taxi drivers can’t claim they didn’t see me as we play chicken in the crosswalk.



Then comes summer; with its riotous explosion of colors and fluttery fabrics...and black, grey or brown hosiery. It is odd at least to my American sensibilities that by pairing anything with dark hose, it becomes fashionable and acceptable while promenading the pavement. For example, denim cut-offs and Daisy Dukes are everywhere...and on people of all ages, genders and sizes! Rest assured dear reader, my Daisy Duke days died in 1979! But in Paris, slap on a pair of black tights and the short shorts are stylin’. I have noticed that footwear paired with said combo is relative to the age of the fashion assassin...Converse All Stars for the under 18 set; footless tights and ballet flats for the 20 and 30 “somethings” and high heels for some women who just don’t get it...you may be as young as you feel, but there are some things that 40, 50 and 60 year olds should NEVER wear!



My husband is pleased to note that sundresses have hit the scene. Spaghetti straps, strapless, tube topped, halters...all attempt to modestly contain what many women are assertively attempting to display...oh the seduction of the décolletage. French attitudes about lingerie are very different than conservative US notions. Underwear is optional here and when it is worn, it is as small as possible, while as much as possible exposed and wherein polite society can tolerate it without a vice charge being levied.





It appears that a corollary to my philosophy of wine...drink what you like and like what you drink...applies to Paris fashion...wear what you like and like what you wear...it can be the only possible explanation for some of the get-ups we’ve seen.



Sunday was a gorgeous summer-like day, clear blue skies... and hot with a soft summer breeze making the temperature tolerable. There was also a visual cacophony of color, fabrics, accessories and attitudes. After marching down the Champs Elysees with about a million visitors to the Fete du Nature exhibit, Bill and I pulled up a couple of chairs outside the Indiana Café on St. Germaine and quaffed some cool beverages...we also did some ogling of the first signs and trends of summer...said sundresses, et cetera. I noticed that this year, sundresses are very long...reminiscent of the maxi dresses of the late ‘70’s. The fabrics are very retro too.



The most fashionable and stunning outfit I saw was a lovely white handkerchief skirt, paired with a white ribbed tank top, over which was draped the softest mint green shrug. The woman’s espadrilles were white eyelet with the same color green ribbons. Her blond hair was loosely tied back in a ponytail and she wore large white rimmed sunglasses...très, très, chic...the air of that soft summer breeze blew us away as she walked by...and then I saw the embarrassingly predominate brown stain of something she must have sat in somewhere along the way haunting her lower left “cheek”...quel dommage.



Another fashion highlight from our “runway” seats came in the form of a teenaged girl...decked out in a purple marabou (feathered) skirt, topped by a white capped sleeved tee shirt, adorned with sparkly baubles and gee-gaws. She sported black ankle boots and black lace tights. And, she was wearing a headband that propped two very pink fuzzy kitty ears slightly askew atop her pretty little head. What a sight!



In the category of “My Eyes! My Eyes!” is the entry of “Spanx should not be a visible fashion accoutrement”. On Monday, Bill and I went exploring around the 1st arrondissement. There one finds a blend of trendy, touristy rues and alleys. As we headed down the Rue de Louvre, a young couple pushing a baby carriage emerged from a store front. Dad was pushing baby and dear, short, squat, post-pregnancy Mom was walking and pulling on her Spanx...she was wearing an overly tight red and gold Egyptian themed t-shirt and a very red, very clingy Lycra skirt/short thing...(it reminded me of the little bike shorts with attached skirt that Carrie wore when she was three years old)... under which were her “thigh length” Spanx...(Spanx are the 10th wonder of the world...it is a stretchy undergarment that gently molds those little lumps and bumps that sometimes curse us after childbirth or too much pasta...into a smooth and shapely form that makes us feel better about ourselves). With a great heave, she pulled the Spanx hem of one leg and then the other out from under the stretchy, red, skort and positioned that portion about two inches below the hem of her “outerwear”, creating a beige elastic band effect on her mid-thighs. In the struggle, she failed to noticed that as she pulled her Spanx down, down too came said skort...exposing inches of post -baby belly between her waist band and the hem of her overly tight top. She looked like a badly stuffed sausage. But, with hands smoothing her skirt over her hips, she strut her stuff after Dad and the cause of the fashion faux pas! But she had attitude...wear what you like and like what you wear.



I think I need some wine.