Look, this isn’t a rouse for nationalism here, but every transitional season the fashion goggles turn towards the land of Brie, baguettes and the cuter bulldog. Suddenly, the weather’s turning crisp and autumnal? Time for berets and a boyfriend blazer hanging off your shoulders! Winter has finally defrosted? Throw on some kind of stripe-y shirt and slender flats with ankle-length trousers! All of which are editorialized under the umbrella of “Parisian chic.”
What do the French even go for, fashion-wise? Most sound bites asking chic French women how they get dressed involve a nonchalant shrug followed by a vague wisp of a certainty that pretty much translates to “IDK LOL!” You know… Je ne sais quoi.
The quoi in question spans that gamut of the new wave Anna Karina and Jean Seberg to Charlotte Gainsbourg and Lou Dillion—appearing to borrow from men’s wardrobes for novelty to full-on suspenders, trousers and tweed vest getups. Since when did French women get suspenders, trousers, and casual vests?
Seriously, nothing against Godard actresses—you ladies look great, best cry-faces I’ve seen yet—but the gospel according to Tumblr would have me believe your your cat-eyed gazes under short nippy bangs are a lifestyle rather than a semi-office-appropriate titillation.
Look, I don’t have beouf with the French. When I was in your country’s capital, y’all were your charmingly curmudgeon-y selves, impatient with my American accented French and general fury every Sunday when I couldn’t even get a goddamn crepe or quiche because it is the Lord’s day and everything is closed or closes hella early (I lived off sugar and carbs, basically).
There was the one elderly saleslady mysteriously sporting a black eye at the Printemps department store who accused me of scheming to shoplift a 30 euro wallet that I had been carrying around in my hand as I continued shopping and insisted I pay for it maintenant! There was also the ebullient teenage Shirley Manson lookalike behind the counter of a Patisserie who grabbed my hands as I collected my change to coo over my manicure (they were gold foil stickers). I speak French at a high school AP level (which was pretty much a decade ago) so my fluency is pretty wimpy, but I can understand things more than I can speak them. That weird experience aside, Paris is a beautiful city with beautiful people. Does that make me want to drink the Fool-Aid and don the uniform? Meh.
One of the things that miffs me about all these “How to Look French 101” articles is that none of them seem to have come prepared to class. There’s no consistency. There is however one philosophy, and that is that all roads lead to effortlessness. You can’t really condense the entire style of a country into a handful of editorials—not without a whole lot of presumptuousness. The French put their pantalons on the same as we do here, one leg at a time. And I’m pretty sure French pigeons are the same winged crumb-snatchers as they are in New York, so it’s not likely they’re chirping harmoniously as they drape Hermés trench coats on mademoiselles on boudoir balconies overlooking the Seine.
I mean, sure, I’m betting it’s about the romanticism of living la vida Paris, but at this point I can only assume that those editorials are basically phoning it in. I become Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, wearily lambasting the decision of “Florals for Spring? Groundbreaking.” (I get it about the stripes though. I like stripes)
I live in New York City—specifically Williamsburg, which is not without its own sartorial leveraging. But for real, I feel like every time I walk down my block and effectively rear-end the ambling couple in front of me, confused as to where that one café was, half the time one of them will undoubtedly turn around to see what pip-squeak just got a face full of their Moncler, muttering a dubiously insincere “pardon.” The catch of that is they are almost always sporting whatever micro-trend “normcore” seems to dictate. That said, I severely doubt the French bother themselves about trying to look American-chic, even if our flags do share the same color scheme.