Twice a year, for many years now, I find myself in Paris for the sake of fashion week, I skip the shows for long days of shooting instead, as well as a side-schedule of meetings with brands that feel like friends. I felt for the sake of transparency, I should disclose precisely what I do during PFW, as I was made aware of some very critical speculation, which mostly made me laugh. Paris is an expensive city to travel too and if I couldn’t expense if for the sake of work than I would wait until summer and stay with Haleigh instead. I’ll be honest here, it’s a hard time for me, but the Feb PFW especially; the weather is harsh and I have a suitcase of springwear to shoot, I faithfully return home with a cold. Now, I am not complaining, I absolutely adore my job which is precisely why the 8 euro coffees and a hotel room smaller than my closet are tolerable. But it is a real hustle. If I’m not shooting, I’m running to a meeting and when there is time, a quick, never long enough dinner with an old friend followed by editing in bed. Why do I skip the shows? I went to as many as I could for many years, but you women don’t seem very interested in them, which makes sense because I’m not thrilled by them either. I esteem designers and the art they create but I can absorb all their creations at home, and attending a show includes the pressure to feature it online, which isn’t really in theme with the content I share. I’m not exactly high fashion but I do love flowers.
what i’m wearing: primark white suit, primark grey faux suede heels,primark le disco white clutch, dior mitzah scarf & rayban aviators
The flower shops in Paris are unlike any I’ve seen elsewhere and I’m sure my floral affinity came to be when I called the city home. I still remember the expecially luxurious one near my apartment in Saint Germain, my then very broke boyfriend would always buy me their very dear roses on the way back from the airport. Flowers in Paris will always remind me of him, and these roses here? They are the exact colour of the ones he would buy. We were shooting for an awkwardly long time outside this particular florist, which impressively spanned almost an entire block of a street, when the clerk emerged looking somewhat irritated, I grabbed a bouquet, thrust them at her with a smile and a sil vous plait. 6 euros later they were sitting next to a 8 euro cafe creme, incongrously priced but I was happy with both purchases. My miniscule hotel room lacked a vase, so I later brought them along to Haleigh at dinner as a present, ‘they are leftover from a shoot right? they make the best gin and tonics here, do you want one?’ was her reaction. I said yes and then no, because I was facing a 6 am wake up and 16 ensembles to shoot the next day. She still seemed happy with the roses though. And just like that, I turned PFW into a whole new kind of event; paris flower week.
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