You can walk anywhere in Paris and see women who are not, as they used to say, put together with two pins or perfectly dressed and made up from the roots of their hair to their toenails. But the odds are that a woman walking along in Paris who needs a visit from Mr. Blackwell is not a native of the city and more likely than not is a foreigner.
[Parisian women] are different, and always stylish, because they dress for men, and the men, despite assumptions to the contrary elsewhere, are paying attention to what the women are wearing, can tell chic from cheap, and appreciate style.
And while I'm sure my brain could be much better occupied, I've let this little tune go round and round in my head until it's making me insane. So here's the deal. Yes, there is the type of Parisienne who is always amazingly put together. But it's not the rule by any means. And while I can't vouch for the nationality or birthplace of the following individuals, I now present exhibits A, B, and C.
I don't have anything against these women nor against the young lady I saw on the metro yesterday in a flowered cotton scarf, a plaid flannel bubble mini dress, black leg warmers, and flowered sneakers. What they wear is their business. I'll reserve the strong language for those who insist upon perpetuating myths, making sweeping generalizations, and spouting half truths. No dowdy women? What a load of crap.