Because You-Know-Who only pretends to listen to Cherie when she shares her pearls of wisdom, the time has come to cast a wider net.
Today, Cherie will share her gems with you and will never know if you treat them the way You-Know-Who does or you actually apply them and thus benefit from a richer, more fulfilling life.
The latter is a promise. If you can't trust Cherie who can you trust?
As we all know, Cherie has the wherewithal to be pampered by a small army of professionals who keep her buffed, buff and beautiful. YKW, with few exceptions -- she hasn't started cutting her own hair as yet -- is on her own. That is to say, she is in charge of keeping her body in shape without a personal trainer; her hair shiny and bright without a coiffeur; all 10 of her nails polished and pretty; the skin on her body soft and scale free; and the precious epidermis on her face plumped, purified and rosy.
Here is where she parts ways with Cherie and the entire female population of France where she and Cherie live, but do not cohabit (thank heavens): YKW sees these necessary ministrations as just more chores. Cherie sees them as can't live without pleasures. Yes, one could argue, as she so often does, it's easier for Cherie because she has all of her upkeep done for and on her, but Cherie counters, "working on staying young and lovely is not a chore, it's a pleasure whether it's in your hands or those of another."
Enough proselytizing, let's get to your problems, Cherie has a long weekend ahead of her and her driver is waiting to whizz her off to Deauville.
Q: Mme. G: Dear Cherie, Do you buy into that old saw about white being right (in the United States, that is) from Memorial Day until Labor Day? And that's it for the year? For your international friends, late May until the first Monday in September.
A: Dear Mme. G, Cherie really, really does not have the energy for a rant today. She has so much to do before heading off to Deauville. Let's keep it simple: No. In our world of sloppiness and laisser-aller it's a shame a few rules no longer apply to proper dressing, but on the other hand it's a pleasure to realize some have been abandoned in the name of freedom and individual creativity. White is one of those happy exceptions.
Cherie likes these and recommends if you see anything close to them on the markdown racks, do not hesitate. (Also, isn't it refreshing to see pure, pristine white underpinnings, even those of the most utilitarian nature?)
Pictured above: A spencer from Sessun (if Cherie could find it, she would own it); a rare, sober, stunning, in Cherie's opinion, tab-collared shirt from Marithé + François Girbaud; and an interesting turn on the classic blazer from Sandro. (You're on your own for the underwear that suits you best.)
Q: Mme. F: Dear Cherie, How is your eyelash growing project coming along? If my calculations are right you've been working on them for about a month now. Are they long and lush?
A: Dear Mme. F, Thank you for caring. The effort is beginning to pay off. Only occasionally has Cherie poked herself in the eye with the wand, but thankfully it has a foam tip which holds the magic elixir that is making the lashes sprout like weeds. (Cherie uses the cliché "weeds" since some of the new sprouts do not always grow out and up, but rather down, left, right and every which-way.)
Just think, Lipocils is an over-the-counter product. No visit to the doc and a prescription for that newfangled product touted by that young American actress. Although it does seem to work.
Q: Mme. D: My dear Cherie, Anything, new, funny, off-beat, whatever?
A: Dear Mme. D., Of course. How about these weird "derby" espadrilles for example? They are sort of funny, non? From B Sided.
Et voila, Cherie is off. She hopes you have as perfect a weekend as she surely will. Until next week. . .