A couple of years ago the kind of youngish women who spend two hours a day seven/seven at the beach starting showing up in the streets in tights, with nothing on top. Before I could catch my breath, the same streets were turned into zoos. I mean women who don’t spend two hours a day at the gym, or an hour a week, began joining the fad. Then, it was camels on one side (camel toes, actually), hippopotamuses on the other side.
The total horror! It makes you wonder if American women have any real girlfriends, friends close enough to say, “Don’t do it honey,” or boyfriends men enough to say, “Who do you think you are going with in this outfit, honey?”
I am almost sure this does not happen in France because French women have mean girlfriends.
I have been neglecting this blog because I am busy with the nth proofing of my manuscript: I Used to Be French: An Immature Autobiography. I will be back soon, I think.