And my quest for perfect skin….

If anyone knows me, they know something I really desire is perfect skin.  You know, skin that just glows and is splotch free.  Skin that when you wake up the following morning, you are making a mad dash to the bathroom to cover up spots.

…

I was cursed with acne starting in middle school and endured it all through university.  Things started seeming better until right before my last jet set to Paris…after I landed, my face EXPLODED (well, not as drastically as I make it seem…but still).  And being a Southern belle brought up with the notion that no one should see you when not put together, I was always on top of making sure I appeared to have blemish free skin (even when hanging about the house).

When I returned home for a few months, a prescribed regimen started getting my face back in order.  However, this didn’t stop me from rolling up to a Marionnaud in Paris to look for something that could help my face.

Once inside, I noticed this older French lady glare at me.  So I made a mad dash to the only makeup I was familiar with, Clinique.  The lady followed close behind and made sure to keep an eye on me.  I turned bright red as I noticed her stare.  I tried smiling to break the ice.  Nada….This Parisian woman was judging me, and there was nothing I could do.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“Uhhhh, toner? Uhhhhh?” I replied nervously.

“Parlez-vous français?” she demanded.

“Uhhh…”

“No, of course you don’t.  Hmmphhh…well, what are you doing here? Visiting???”

“No, I’m an au pair…trying to learn…uh…French…I speak a little!”

“Hmmphhh, well, you are in Paris, and it is VERY important you speak French…hmphhh…”

I nodded in agreement and prayed she’d go away and leave me alone, but it appeared she wouldn’t budge.  Finally, I decided to ask her advice on a toner.  She tilted her head down and looked at me.

“Are you a Clinique girl?” she asked.

“No. It’s just what I’m familiar with…” I replied.

She nodded her head, and the next thing I knew she was whisking me about the store handing me a product that all the young French girls use. She explained how to use it and informed me it’s the cheapest and best product in the store for what my face needs.  Then she showed me this BB cream foundation to use and dragged me to the checkout.

“Come back in three months and see me.  I promise you will have better skin by then,” she told me.

“Okkkk,” I stuttered.

“Ohh, and here are some extra samples for you.”

It was then I noticed her throwing in samples of Chanel mascara and Coco Mademoiselle parfum.  My heart jumped.

She smiled at me for the first time and told me to visit her.  She’d teach me French, and I would teach her English.  I nodded.

And, then, as I was walking out the door, she said:

“I know you are going to be just fine in Paris.”

xx

Hillary Rose

Parcs

“Live in the present and make it so beautiful that it will be worth remembering.”

-Ida Scott Taylor

I returned to Paris at the best time.  Spring time.

Flowers are blooming.  The Frenchies are in better moods.  Pique-niques are in abundance.

The banks of the Seine are covered with people.  The parcs are filled with sunbathers.

Life is wonderful at best.  Sporting my amazing fashion sense and charming the Frenchies with my American girl smile and outlook on life.

Of course, it’s impossible to take photos of me and not have one with my mouth open.  Laughing as I try not to kill the lovely daffodils in the parc and avoiding getting yelled at by the French police for sitting in grass that is “resting.”

But, I can say, my friend Bex took amazing photos of moi.  Sporting off my favorite white pants (that I tried hard NOT to get dirty sitting in the grass…..).

I have also been mistaken for a Frenchie…that is until I open my mouth.  Mmmm…somethings will never change will they?

shirt: karl marc john // pants: ny&co // shoes: thrifted (paris) // suns: ray-ban

xx

hillary rose

Une Femme est Une Femme

In an attempt to improve my French, I’ve begun watching French movies and trying to mentally block the sub-titles.

The latest is one from the French New Wave film maker Jean-Luc Godard and staring the oh-so-lovely Anna Karina:  Une Femme est Une Femme (A Woman is a Woman).

Now, if you are like my father and have no idea who this Godard guy is, you apparently didn’t study French New Wave in college and/or have an obsession with all things French…  But seeing as I am not a professor but instead a recent grad, I’ll let you do your own research.

But before, you should watch this hilarious clip in which I can foresee myself being in the same position as Ms. Karina if I ever settle down with a Frenchman.

I tell ya, rolling “R’s” is tough shit.

xx

hillary rose

PS:  If you want to watch the full movie, it’s available on Netflix :)

PPS:  A translation of the French goes:

-I don’t speak quietly?

-”I don’t speak quietly?”

-You can’t even pronounce your R’s.

-Yes I can!

(attempted R-rolling battle begins/ends)

-Pathetic.

Neutrals and Paris Cafés

Mmmm…Paris…

…And your abundant cafés,  fabulously mixed neutrals and bright red lips…

I was brought up to believe that navy and black can NEVER be together, and lipstick is for old ladies at church.

But you proved me wrong.

xx

hillary rose

PS:

Photos are owned by The Sartorialist…

(but this should be common sense seeing as how my photography is nowhere near this amazingness)

The Messy Bun

Once, I chopped ALL my hair off Audrey Hepburn-esque like in Roman Holiday.

All off.  All gone.

C’est chic.

…

Then I had the fun and slow process of growing it all back.  Sadly, growing hair isn’t as easy as cutting hair.  But my hair is finally past my shoulders.  And I’m able to [almost] contort my hair into different styles and look.

Like the, I just simply threw this on top of my head into a casually messy bun…

Or, in my case, I almost succeeded in casually throwing my hair into a casually messy bun…

bun

Hairspray and bobby pins and hair ties prove ever so helpful in this look.  One that is ALMOST as très chic as the Parisian women gracing the streets.

Or this one:

….

Practice makes perfect, right?  Even if it means practicing until the casual est parfait?

xx

hillary rose

PS:

This is more of my, I’M EXCITED ABOUT MY SEMI-SUCCESSFUL MESSY BUN face…

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PPS:

Messy buns do oh-so-well at looking fashionable at the gym while “working on my fitness“

Le Chat

I have a problem.

It involves “pinning” images to online inspiration boards and independent, four legged animals…

Of all my Pinterest boards, “le chat” wins in “the most pins” award.

But then again, who can resist cats wearing berets and pretending to be Parisian?

Despite folks’s beliefs that my outgoing personality renders me a dog person, I’ve always been a cat person.  And lucky for me, majority of the “Paris” population opts for this whiskered feline.

Including, Karl Lagerfeld and his lovely Choupette.

Now, if you haven’t heard of this adorable kitty, you’re going to have to do your own research on how this charming kitten stole the heart of Chanel’s creative director.  (Her presence has been known since this past summer…)

Meeting Mr. Lagerfeld is on my list of “fashion world to-do’s,” but, now, I think meeting Choupette is starting to rank higher.  Maybe in doing so, I can convince Mr. Lagerfeld to let me be Choupette’s “au pair.”

Thankfully, I’m in somewhat of luck.  For it is known that Mr. Lagerfeld frequents Café de Flore (as I have).  So, come springtime, I might be propping up at this infamous Parisian café stalking watching for Choupette and her Karl.

mmm…

Truth is, all I want is an apartment in Paris with a window, and a cat to join me while we sit on the ledge acting all introspective and French (Luckily, one of these should be coming true).

xx

hillary  rose

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LOOK! C’est moi avec mon chat, BC.  Note how my young, fashionable self pulled off that Santa hat. Sadly, I lost touch with my fashion sense until about college….