Asos Top | Topshop Moto Culottes (similar here, here and here) | Hudson Mirar Ankle Boots (similar here and here) | Zara Bag (similar here and here) | Vintage Beret (similar here, here and here) | Forever 21 Sunglasses (similar here, here and here)
Saint-Paul-de-Vence… Listen to the music in that name. It is fraught with the French artistic elegance that epitomizes this medieval hilltop village surrounded by ramparts. There was but one problem. The postcard good looks of the village had put their spell on far too many tourists. Yet we managed to find some back alleys, overlooked by other visitors with the exception of a cat or two. There the same exceptional light shone on the quaint Provençal houses and cobblestoned pavements that decades ago attracted famous painters like Marc Chagall, Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse and later on movie stars and writers like Ernest Hemingway, Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald and Jacques Prévert.
We stopped by café La Colombe d’Or (TripAdvisor), once an unpretentious hub of the arts and stuffed with works of Picasso, Matisse, Leger, Braque etc. It certainly would have made a great set for our outfit shoot. Unfortunately the owners didn’t display the same lenience as in its heyday when art was often accepted as a currency for food and drinks. We were denied access for a drink (apparently they only served full lunch menus), but I did manage to sneak in and make a photo of the charming bar area that I had been so desperate to see.
My outfit might as well be my favourite blog outfit so far. It couldn’t be more French: the perfect striped top with off-the-shoulder neckline (so very Brigitte Bardot), the culottes (there isn’t even an English word for them – they’re thát French!) and the beret (equally derived from a French word, “béret”). Wikipedia tells me this headgear has been popular among nobility and artists across Europe all throughout modern history. One of its admirers was my late granddad who wore it not as a fashion statement but simply to cover his balding head. I recall that the only way my sister and me, as little girls, could annoy my grandfather, was by our naughty habit of snatching his treasured beret from his head (and, by that gesture, stealing his pride). Sorry, granddad. Girls will always be girls. Now, as a young woman, I cherish that one beret I never gave back to you. Look how it features in my Saint-Paul-de-Vence shoot. Hope you are proud of me as I will always be of you.
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