Paris has a way of turning even the smallest detour into a full‑bodied experience. I made a quick stop to Paris to see the girls, shop with the kinda gays, and practice my new found appreciation for the art of flânerie: the French tradition of strolling, observing, and indulging in the pleasure of simply being nosy with elegance.
What can I say? I adore a city that treats people‑watching as a legitimate activité, beats people watching in a Target parking lot in Texas…. I guess I have been a certified observer without knowing, it was nice to find out that it’s a french cultural tradition and I wasn’t just being creepy. Obviously the style choices are astronomically better in Paris than Texas Target parking lots…Style in Paris is less about clothes and more about presence. Which I hope you can pick up on in these pics I got.
Saint Laurent Tuck
Somewhere in the 11th, I saw this guy smoking. Had to stop and admire the infinite tie tuck. The swag was radiating toward me. I had to capture the moment of him smoking on a business call, fully committed to the business outfit. Please reverse Google image-search him because his energy was giving, “I am Yves Saint Laurent,” and honestly, I’d believe him.
Rasta Combination
In the 10th, I saw this Rasta walking my way. Naturally, he was in love with me. He put up this heart, and I felt the one love. One love… one heart. Let’s get together and mismatch some more.
Valentino Pirate
Shopping in Le Marais, I spotted this beautiful hat across the street. Walking up to her, I swear she could’ve been Alessandro Michele’s muse. She was sweet, ready to serve, and posed like she knew exactly what she was doing…right foot forward and all. Alessandro would be proud.
Princess Bubblegum
In the queue to take a picture in front of the James Lee Byars exhibition at the Bourse de Commerce, I spotted this bubble-gum-pink princess immediately against the gold. She was flattered to have her photo taken. She was an icon from head to pink toes.
Certified Frenchi
Out for drinks in Belleville with friends, among us was a certified Frenchy, rocking Kiko Kostadinov and doing his usual thing: smoking and shrugging his shoulders. This is him in his natural habitat.
Y-3 Genie
Lost in Gare du nord I spot this Y3 genie. I asked him can you grant my wish? He said what is it? I said outfit check? He just knotted his head yes. He was being nonchalant like Yoji.
Hunter Hottie
She was on the hunt for those mouse Marc Jacobs flats. Once retrieved and captured, she was hard to spot in that camouflage. Eventually, I got a clear shot in front of Chez Jeannette, where all the baddies forage for wine.
Fo-mès Sandals
Around the Acne office, I had to capture the undeniable coolness this guy had. If he told me his trash bag was Balenciaga, I would’ve believed him. He was a warm-and-fuzzy interior, hard-exterior type.
Metalic Mommy
After a great shimmy in La Fête. I found myself leaving the club following what I thought was my north star, turned out it was definitely a silver star, head to toe with the matching Margiela glam slam baby bag.
Bisou Bisou J