France in Your Pants
I’ve Fallen In Love With A Woman
While Elaine Dundy was she most certainly a woman, she was most certainly not a lady. Oh, and another thing? She could write her sexy ass off.
The Poetry Reading
Who brings a date to a poetry reading? What was I thinking? Yes, in fact, I do need another drink, for Chrissakes!
Catch Him If You Can (Or, Where’s Momo?)
Vogue Paris. I read it for the articles. And I heard from a reliable source that all the clues to finding Muammar Gaddafi – also known as Momo – are in there.
My Pants Out Of France
Or, What I Did On My Summer Vacation. Or I blame Céline Dion. And Justin Bieber…
The Most Beautiful Waiter in the World
He should be in a museum or something. Yes, that was it. A museum. The Louvre. That’s where he should be, she decided. The Louvre. I’m writing a letter to the curator.
I Was A Parisian Booth Bunny
It was the cowboy that did it. The one in the thong and the boots. No chaps, no Stetson, no silvery-silver belt buckle…not even (malheureusement) a lasso. Just the thong. And the boots. Minimaliste – just like that.
France’s New Lovey-Dovey Dictatorship
I know what you’re thinking: Dictators are soooo last year. Dictatorially, I disagree. I believe it’s not so much the stylishness of the job, but the stylishness of the dictator.
I Was A Teenage French Girl
Ever have friends who are a couple and you like the one person but the other one kind of sucks? And then the both of them come to Paris?
Kurds And Their Ways
You show up for a long-ass Kurdish family luncheon in your best Sunday heels, and your best Sunday dress. And then, before lunch, before you can all sit down to eat and argue and agonize and eat, they tell you you’re supposed to help slaughter the sheep that you’re supposed to be eating later…
