It may not quite be summer vacation, but if you’re anything like me, you’re already getting that travel bug! Sure, Toronto is great (especially during “Patio Season”!), but there is a whole world out there to be discovered and a lot of shopping to be done in only a few short months. Whether you’re planning short weekend jaunts or transcontinental long hauls, the problem is always the same… What to pack? I would love to say I am an expert packer, but the hundreds of dollars I have paid in overweight bags tell a different story. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? You have every intention of packing lightly, but when all is said and done, the bag weighs more than you do. It’s a tragic situation, but how can a girl be expected to travel without at least 5 cocktail dresses, jeans in a minimum of 3 washes, 2 pairs of flats, 4 pairs of heels, and a great jacket just in case there’s a fluke blizzard in July? I exaggerate (slightly), but I can’t tell you how many times I have been shamed at the American Airlines check-in as the agent aggressively slaps a “HEAVY, bend at the knees” tag to my bag. My rule is simple: If I can lift it, they can check it! Of course, very few airlines agree with me.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year! For some, that honor goes to Christmas, but for fashion lovers, it can only mean one thing: Paris Fashion Week. One magical week when the rues of Paris are packed with chic editors, pouty models and smooth-talking photographers all whipped up in a fashionable frenzy. All the rooms are booked at the Ritz and the Plaza Athénée and you can forget about getting a table at Café Ruc! For one week, Paris, or at least the 1e arrondissement, is completely consumed by fashion. Fashion Week brings out the best (outfits) and the worst (egos) in people and suddenly everyone has an opinion, including yours truly! So, faithful readers, permit me to walk you through the highs and lows of PFW: Be Still My Heart: Elie Saab The reviews were mixed, but I was entirely won over. There was a hint of 1970s disco, but not too much to make you feel like a Diana, Bianca or Anjelica impersonator. Some found it boring and lacking the flair and decadence of the Studio 54 era it channeled, but I found that the collection offered a modern, understated twist. Above all, the collection was wearable. I would be proud to Shake Shake Shake my booty down the street wearing any one of those looks!
Last night, I experienced the kind of fashion embarrassment that could only occur in Paris. I was invited to the awards ceremony for the prestigious hotel prize 
Fashion is often big and bold, but more often than not, those beautiful designs only come in the tiniest of sizes. 
A gorgeous Parisian man once complimented me on my shoes. A true French flatterer, he said that the shoes were “almost as beautiful as the woman wearing them”. The line didn’t work, but it did get me thinking… When was the last time I was complimented on my clothes by a man in Toronto? In fact, sometimes I wonder if the men I know even notice my outfits or if a girl’s clothes are merely as an obstacle they must try to get through! In my experience, things are different in Paris. Yes, French men are also trying to get into said clothes, but they take a different approach to the task. In short, know thy "enemy"!
On my first day of work at a Paris-based fashion magazine, my boss asked me point blank why I had decided to pursue a career in fashion in Paris. To me the answer was quite evident… It’s Paris! I explained to him that my love of fashion is based more in the artistic side of it, fashion as art as opposed to fashion as a commercial commodity. And so, I launched into a romantic soliloquy on fashion in la capitale. His response, however, was not what I expected. Basically, I am an idealistic fool! I was looking at it from an outsider’s point of view, an outdated view of fashion in Paris. He argued that Paris’ fashion power was on decline as the commercial capitals (New York, Milan) continue to gain momentum. The world cares less and less about haute couture and the true beauty of fashion. In short, Parisian fashion as we know it is dying a slow and painful death. Ouch!
Twice a year I prepare to fight an epic battle: shopping with my boyfriend. I am of the school that you cannot change a man, and therefore have never even offered to take my significant other shopping despite my fashion qualifications. Sure, I see him as a blank canvas I am just itching to get my hands on and I know that I could work wonders on his style should he ever consent, but I’m not holding my breath. Instead, I begrudgingly accept whatever he chooses to wear (I have sartorial veto power at weddings and funerals), even if it means dirty jeans and faded t-shirts. It can be challenging because I love fashion, but just because I love something doesn’t mean he has to (or vice versa!). My laid-back approach to his wardrobe pays off twice a year when, without provocation, he comes to me and asks for my style advice. I am always elated when he reaches out and I will usually drop everything to embark on the bi-annual “massive shop”. Truth be told, we actually only spend about an hour shopping, because the poor man would never survive one of my marathon 4-hour power shops! Nevertheless, in an action-packed hour we generally manage to grab up everything he’ll need for spring/summer or fall/winter.