I leave for Paris in three short days, and I can hardly believe it. I haven’t yet started packing, which is sort of par for the course for me (being the last minute packer that I am), but something about this trip is going to make packing even more difficult than usual. Namely, the chic ways of French women that leave me in complete and utter fear.
I’m convinced that, no matter what I bring, it’ll seem all wrong once I hit the streets of Paris. How can one compare to a single French woman (much less streets full of them)? With their casual and insouciant charm, their ability to mix high and low, their general fabulousness. . . . How the heck??
Even rewatching Sex and the City episodes from when Carrie went to Paris. . . she totally elevated her already heady wardrobe to a level that I can hardly wrap my head around. Remember the pale gray dress she wore in the final episodes? All layers of tulle, subtle beading, and ruffles? Well, at least I’m not planning on falling in love in Paris (other than with the city and the fashion, that is). Gratefully, I won’t need much tulle.
But, still, I’m getting a bit of a fashion panic attack. How does one pack for their dream vacation? How does one even plan for a thing that she dreamed of for decades? How does a gal pick clothing from her own wardrobe in anticipation of disembarking from a plane in paradise?
It all seems a bit impossible. Perhaps I’ll just wear the clothes on my back and bring an empty suitcase?
Deep breaths. . . .
All I can say is I am beyond excited. I’m almost glad that I’ve been so busy the past few weeks that I haven’t been able to think or plan much for this trip. Because now that I have time to think about it, I’m kind of hyperventilating. The good news is I am so thrilled to be going that I think it’ll be lovely no matter what. Well, I’m hoping it doesn’t rain the whole time, but barring that, I think simply being there is going to be a complete and utter dream.
I just hope I don’t have to go naked because I couldn’t take the packing pressure. . . .