How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are: Love, Style, and Bad Habits

Enjoy the face you have today. It's the one you'll wish you have ten years from now.

Take the time to listen and to get to know yourself. Take the time to change, to grow, to rest. Take the time to say yes, take the time to say no. Take the time to be quiet. Take the time to look after your body, to eat well. Take the time to ask yourself who you are and what you want.

She doesn't have a ring on each finger, or a big diamond on each ring. She doesn't wear a gold watch that costs as much as a fancy car. In fact, she doesn't own a fancy car. She doesn't carry an enormous designer bag. But she might have a newspaper under her arm. She might mention Sartre or Foucault in a conversation. It's her personality that sparkles and nothing else: the signs of intellectual wealth.

TAKE THE TIME to talk to the elderly lady next door, to read a book, to walk to work instead of riding the subway when it’s a beautiful day. Take the time to escape for a weekend with friends. Take the time to listen and to get to know yourself. Take the time to change, to grow, to rest. Take the time to say yes, take the time to say no. Take the time to be quiet. Take the time to look after your body, to eat well. Take the time to ask yourself who you are and what you want.

Take the time to take time because nobody else will do it for you.

A story should have a beginning, a middle and and an end, but not necessarily in that order

In the street, at a café, on the bus, a person’s face can tell a story, like a crystal ball that reveals the past. Happy or long-lost loves, births, hopes and victories, successes interwoven with twists of fate.

She’s Parisian, which is to say she’s melancholy. Her mood responds to the changing colours of her city. She can feel a sudden surge of sorrow or even hope for no reason at all. In the blink of an eye, all those lost memories and smells come flooding back, reminding her of loved ones who are no longer there. And time passing by.

In short, you’re not a slave to the cult of the perfect body – so learn to make the best of what nature gave you.

MANTRA: “My demand as a woman is that my difference be taken into account and that I not be forced to adapt to the male model.

She is incredibly faithful, just not to the same man

WHAT YOU WON’T FIND IN HER CLOSET * Three-inch heels. Why live life halfway? * Logos. You are not a billboard. * Nylon, polyester, viscose and vinyl will make you sweaty, smelly and shiny. * Sweatpants. No man should ever see you in those. Except your gym teacher – and even then. Leggings are tolerated. * Blingy jeans with embroidery and holes in them. They belong to Bollywood. * UGG boots. Enough said.

Not that she wanted to have sex with him, necessarily. Only that she was happy to acknowledge, on this late-summer evening, that he was a man and she a woman, and if he found her attractive, that was all right with her.

She always wears her sunglasses, even when it rains.

Yes, she'll admit that her charm is somewhat artificial. Et alors?

Quando trabalhamos para agradar os outros, não é possível ter sucesso, mas quando fazemos as coisas para satisfazer a nós mesmos, podemos acabar atraindo o interesse de alguém.

Wear a black bra under your white blouse, like two notes on a sheet of music.

Go to the theater, to museums, and to concerts as often as possible; it gives you a healthy glow.

— Então me diz qual a diferença entre a esquerda e a direita. — É muito simples! Para a direita, se o indivíduo está bem, a sociedade está bem. Enquanto que, para a esquerda, se a sociedade está bem, o indivíduo está bem.

Somos todos heróis incompreendidos, superando obstáculos arriscados sem nunca receber uma medalha por isso.

... [T]he letters of the alphabet (two Cs, a large D; the combination of Y, S, and L) belong on an ophthalmologist's chart. For the Parisienne, luxury should never be spelled out.

The signature item is an attitude. It is the gun in your holster that makes you feel well dressed and invincible.

Don’t be afraid of aging. As the saying goes, don’t be afraid of anything but fear itself. Find “your” perfume before you turn thirty. Wear it for the next thirty years. No one should ever see your gums when you talk or laugh. If you own only one sweater, make sure it’s cashmere. Wear a black bra under your white blouse, like two notes on a sheet of music. One must live with the opposite sex, not against them. Except when making love. Be unfaithful: cheat on your perfume, but only on cold days. Go to the theater, to museums, and to concerts as often as possible: it gives you a healthy glow. Be aware of your qualities and your faults. Cultivate them in private but don’t obsess. Make it look easy. Everything you do should seem effortless and graceful. Not too much makeup, too many colors, too many accessories …  Take a deep breath and keep it simple. Your look should always have one thing left undone—the devil is in the details. Be your own knight in shining armor. Cut your own hair or ask your sister to do it for you. Of course you know celebrity hairdressers, but only as friends. Always be fuckable: when standing in line at the bakery on a Sunday morning, buying champagne in the middle of the night, or even picking the kids up from school. You never know. Either go all gray or no gray hair. Salt and pepper is for the table.

It’s her personality that sparkles and nothing else: the signs of intellectual wealth.

Just because you only have one life doesn't mean you should be afraid of wasting it.

She never crosses the street where she's supposed to; she claims it's her rebellious side. People who wait in lines stress her out.

Talk softly so that people have to lean in to hear you. Look preoccupied. Speak in quotes. Give yourself over but don’t give yourself away.

Always look as if you are gazing at the sunset. Even during rush hour in the Metro. Even when picking up frozen pizza from the supermarket.

In general, love stories end badly. You’ve known this for as long as you can remember--but that’s not all. You’ve also repeatedly been told you’re going to fall in love several times, and so how could the first man be the right one? You’ve been warned endlessly that there will be temptations along the way. And that’s without taking into account that he, too, will have no shortage of options. Yes, it’s all true. Statistically speaking, you’re (far) more likely to break up with him than to love him till death do you part. If he doesn’t call you back, then he wasn’t worth it. He’ll find someone he is more suited to. And so much the better--for you both. But it’s the exception that makes the rule--and isn’t life the sum of these exceptions? You can never be absolutely sure (in love or, for that matter, in anything), and the perfect man doesn’t exist: they all need to be wrong for the one to be right. Love is the only part of your life in which you truly have no choice. The good news is that over the course of your various liaisons--and incidentally all your not-so-glorious moments-- you have learned to truly know yourself, to be strong and independent, to get by on your own. And so you don’t need anyone else to be happy. But you have to admit that, with him, it’s better. In Paris, like anywhere else, it’s good to know how to look beyond your preconceptions, in order to become a girl in love

You are anonymous in your own city; no one knows your age, who you are, or what you do for a living. In this moment, you can regain control of your life. Feel the beating of your heart, take a deep breath, and listen to yourself. Do nothing. Absolutely nothing. Savor these stolen moments. They help you regroup, and belong to no one else. You alone are responsible for what happens to you.