Cherie called in telling me -- not asking, she never asks -- she had luncheon, tea and cocktail invitations today and could not make her column deadline. She then told me she would write something "fantastic," her word, not mine, tomorrow.
That explains the flip in the schedule, but I know you like to see what's going on in the streets of Paris and the parking lot of the super marche where I buy my staples, not my fruits and veggies, cheese or fish. So, all is not lost. At least someone is always prepared.
A charming anecdote accompanies the first and second pictures taken in Paris. While buying my Shu Uemura eyelash curler the other day, I spied a woman in a trench coat at the Dior cosmetic counter and thought, "Ah-ha, time to whip out my card and camera." However, the more I looked at her, the more I thought she and her daughter (together in the second shot) might be Americans.
I started circling and listening. After a moment, one of the makeup artists from Dior asked me if she could help me. "Yes," I said, "could you listen to those two women and tell me if they're American." She went to them, asked if they needed assistance and came back to tell me, "They're French."
It was time for me to move in. I spieled my spiel whereupon the adorable daughter looked at her mother and said, "See, I told you, you never listen to me."
Long story short, as much as I hate to abbreviate I realize you have other things to do today: She agreed to the photo op. And the dénouement of the tale? The stunning, fun makeup artist from Dior said to her, "Sit down, I'll do your makeup before you have your picture taken."