Hard Times Baby

When I’ve only 10 euros in my bank account, I take special pleasure in wandering the streets around St. Germain des Près, perhaps walking into Burberry wordlessly allowing the doorman at the front to let me in. Bonjour I’ve said to the woman attending the purses. I’ve watched Godford’s Park enough times to mimic the voice of old money. I head directly to the second floor, since really, sunglasses and bags don’t hold much interest for me and the weather’s been saying “rain” and I’m on a mission I want a trench coat chop chop chop.

Exactly so.

(So describe a model I know to exist only in my head.) They try to make up for its absence Essayez ça madame? directing me to a dressing room larger than my salle de bain – turning one way, than another, wondering who really buys a coat for 3000 euros.

Ce n’est pas que j’ai dans la tête. Je cherche un couleur plus métallique. Merci bien. Au revoir.

Yes. That was fun.