Thursday, May 31, 2012

Mother of the Betrothed In France



Janice, the brilliantly talented creator of The Vivienne Files, is back today with the final installment of what to wear if you're in the supporting role of Mother-of-the-Bride. (Maybe Mother-of-the-Groom as well

Jacket - Maxmara

Gold clutch (with chain handle) – J. Crew, Earrings – Gay Boyer, Sweater – Jason Wu, Pleated skirt – Great Plains, gold pumps – Kate Spade, dress – Missoni, bracelet – Lauren by Ralph Lauren, pumps – L.K. Bennett

Scarf – Etro, boots – Acne, sweater – Calvin Klein, scarf – Hermès, turtleneck – Ralph Lauren, chinos – Dorothy Perkins, trousers – Hope, loafers – Burberry, socks – Dore Dore

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Going to Great Lengths

Shu Uemura, the "Rolls Royce" of eyelash curlers.

Marsi is back today with another one of her "value-added" posts. See below. . .

So, I've already told you about my thinning eyebrows. Alas, it doesn't stop there. My eyelashes aren't what they once were either, but it seemed like something I just had to live with. I know women get wonderful results from Latisse, but the potential side effects (changing iris colors, undereye discoloration) concern me. I filed spindly eyelashes under "C" -- for c'est la vie.

Covetworthy lashes. 
A couple of months ago, Allure magazine featured an article promising "16 Ways To Look Younger With Makeup." Read this:
Throw out your thickening mascara. Lashes get thinner as you age, so conventional wisdom says you need a thickening mascara to bulk them up, but common wisdom is wrong. "Your lashes can't support the extra weight," says [makeup artist Sandy] Linter. "Heavy formulas flatten the lashes." Instead, use a lengthening mascara, like Lancome Définicils High Definition Mascara, which tends to be lighter on the lashes, and look for mascaras with thin wands so you can easily coat each lash. 
I'd never thought about my eyelash issue in that way: that fewer eyelashes mean less support for the weight of mascara. For me, it was, as the French say, a coup de foudre -- a lightening bolt moment. After decades of using thickening, volumizing mascaras, I'd literally never tried a lengthening formula. I had to give it a whirl.

There are good lengthening mascaras available at every price point, but I'll confess, mascara is the one cosmetic item I never buy luxe. I like to replace it every six weeks so it's always really creamy. I've been really pleased so far with L'Oreal Telescopic Original. It has a nice, creamy formula that doesn't clump a bit, plus it has a slender brush that reaches every lash, even the tiniest ones in the corners. I've always loved L'Oreal's mascaras, and this is no exception.

L'Oreal makes great cheap thrills. 
Another plus: this lighter-weight formula is so much easier to remove at night, and I never find residue resisting my best efforts to remove it.

So tell me: are your lashes getting thinner, or is it just me? Have you tried lengthening mascara, and if so, what did you think?

P.S. I know you're curious about the other 15 ways, so here they are. I'm a little skeptical of some of them and the rest seem obvious, but judge for yourself.

  • Moisturize your skin. A lot.
  • Click-pen concealer formulas are best for not drawing attention to lines and crepiness. 
  • Buy a yellow(ish) foundation. 
  • Use a damp sponge to sheer out your foundation. 
  • Skip powder (or "use translucent, light-diffusing powder, nothing tinted").
  • Keep piling on the moisture -- creamy blush, creamy eyeshadow, creamy lip color. 

  • "Rub your blush in along the highest points of your cheekbones -- it makes your bone structure stand out."
  • Tweeze, but only if you absolutely must.
  • Use a brow pencil that's "a shade lighter than your natural coloring, and hold it at a 45-degree angle."
  • Unearth your eyelash curler. 
  • Use eyeshadow base. 
  • Swap out your black eyeliner for brown. 
  • Don't be afraid of a little shimmer, especially in the inner corners of the eyes. 
  • Stick to lipstick shades that "enhance your natural lip tone, rather than bringing attention to the area." 
  • Try highlighter on the cheekbones.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Les Femme d'Un Certain Age

Emmanuelle Riva, star of the Palme d'Or film Amour.
The Cannes Film Festival has rolled up its soggy red carpet -- lots and lots of rain -- until next year. But before we say au revoir, I thought it might be fun to take one last look at the beautiful women of a certain age who added absolute glamour to the scene.

Emmanuelle Riva.
Look at that face above. Isn't she lovely? The 85-year-old actress is the star of the film, Amour, which won this year's Palme d'Or. Her co-star is 81-year-old Jean-Louis Trintignant whom we have not seen for many years except on the stage in Paris.

Reviewers who like to look beyond one award to the next are predicting the film, by Austrian director Michael Haneke, will win the Academy Award for best foreign language film. They called the love story "heartbreakingly honest."

Isabelle Huppert co-stars with Jean-Louis Trintignant and Riva in Amour.
I think it is thrilling to see, even if rarely, roles for actresses of a certain age and beyond. It is somehow comforting to realize some directors (and producers who take the gamble) believe that there is an audience out here for touching, heartwarming stories that make age irrelevant. A life well-lived is not reserved only for the very young. Au contraire.

Here then is a parade of beauties who prove life does begin at 40 -- and then continues for the duration. It's a decision for each of us to make.

Naomi Watts.
Julianna Margulies.
Sandrine Bonnaire, hand-in-hand with actress Alexandra Lamy wife of Jean Dujardin, winner of the Academy Award for best actor in the film, The Artist.
Andie MacDowell and her daughter, Sarah.

Jane Fonda times three. (Maybe she could be the model for a sort of Barbie of a certain age. What do you think? The decision would probably need a serious potential market investigation.)
Emanuelle Devos.
Tilda Swinton.
Carole Bouquet.
A demain my darling amis.

Monday, May 28, 2012

Paris: The Private Lives of Public People

Fashion forward French feet -- Valérie Trierweiler in YSL platforms at the White House.
France -- and perhaps the world (or perhaps not) -- is embroiled in the intrigue and the reported jealousy that is raging between France's current "Premier Companion," Valérie Trierweiler, and Ségolène Royal, the former companion of the current president.

Ségolène Royal and Valérie Trierweiler
The London Daily Telegraph reported on the situation and this week's Elle had a splashy front cover teaser alluding to the brouhaha. Inside, the article mostly talked about Madame Trierweiler's purported jealousy indicating that Madame Royal's has probably cooled since the new president has been with his companion several years.

Also of great interest were the Yves Saint Laurent shoes Madame Trierweiler wore during president François Hollande's official visit to the United States earlier this month, although the two subjects were not part of the same articles.

I wrote an essay for Women's Voices For Change today that talks more about the current cultural conundrum and the delicate matters of diplomatic decorum involving France's first unmarried president and his companion.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Next Week or La Semaine Prochaine



Since I have major interviews on my calendar for next week I thankfully have a lot of help from my friends to keep us entertained in this space.

Here's the way the days ahead are shaping up:

1.) France's "Premiere Dame" (unmarried). It appears the saga is getting more interesting (read complicated).

2.) The final installment of wardrobe suggestions for the mothers of the betrothed by my friend Janice creator of the brilliant blog The Vivienne Files.

3.) Now that you have assessed our closets, Marie-Therese Norris will tell us what we do next. I suspect it might be painful.

4.) Maybe Marsi. . . She said "maybe," but I have no confirmation.

5.) News & Views

6.) A French Country Weekend.

7.) The Weekly Line-up.

Weather report: Exquisite. Warm temperatures, sun, sun, sun, every so often a light breeze. The birds are wildly happy talking amongst themselves, the dogs are sunbathing and we're about to have lunch in our gazebo. All is right with the world.

I hope you're having a perfect day.

A demain my darling amis.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

A French Country Weekend




Just back from the market where I bought cherries (!) my favorite fruit. I've already made my wish as I add them to my list of fruits eaten for the first time this year.

So far I've had: strawberries, blueberries, raspberries and now cherries. I did have a melon, but one of you pointed out that it was imported and you were absolutely correct. I wonder whether this gives me the opportunity to re-eat a melon grown in France and thus make an extra wish.

I've made the same wish on each fruit. Surely it will come true in that case don't you think?

Yesterday a friend of mine gave me three beautiful -- cut -- bearded irises in deep purple and yellow. When she saw how delighted I was she promised to give me some rhizomes in the fall.

On the outside chance, you, like moi meme, have no idea what a rhizome is, below is the definition from the Encyclopedia Britannica.


rhizome,  Iris: rhizome [Credit: John H. Gerard]in botany, horizontal, underground plant stem capable of producing the shoot and root systems of a new plant. This capability allows the parent plant to propagate vegetatively (asexually) and also enables a plant to perennate (survive an annual unfavourable season) underground. In some plants (e.g., water lilies, many ferns and forest herbs), the rhizome is the only stem of the plant. In such cases, only the leaves and flowers are readily visible.




Weather report: unspeakably gorgeous or, as the forecasters have been saying, "July in May." We truly deserve these temperatures and sunny skies after the dreadful weeks of rain, hail, chilly temperatures and gray, gray skies.

Friday, May 25, 2012

Dateline Paris: Back From Beauty Hell . . .

Yesterday I mentioned the conversation I had with my friend about the necessity to be rich to remain beautiful. Recently I spent a day in one of the world's most magnificent spas. Words can not explain the other-worldly divine-ness of the experience. However, and this shows you how crazy I am, while in the midst of experiencing nirvana (not being a Buddist I may be taking liberties, but you get the idea) all I could think about was the experience below which I told you about last year.


I'm re-sharing it again because I won't be home the entire day (I'm writing this in the middle of the night on Thursday). 


Regarding my problems about living "in the moment" I've been told about a French magic medical man who teaches his patients exactly how to do that. I've called for an appointment -- more on that later.





For the first time in my life I understand the adage, "You must suffer to be beautiful."

The fact I'm alive (barely) to tell the tale is a miracle. It's difficult to believe the saga could unfold in the beauty capital of the world, but it did. I was partaking -- with enormous enthusiasm and anticipation -- in what I thought would be a perfect day. I was using a gift certificate for a "day of beauty" in an obscure institute de beauté. The appellation, "spa," is slowly beginning to enter into the French language, but would, under no circumstances be applied to this place.
With my certificate in hand I opted for a full-body gommage (exfoliation) with essential oils, then (with my own money!) I added on to my gift certificate, "enveloppement," back to this in a second, but let me say I assume the experience could be likened to a seance in a straight jacket minus the heat and perfumed oils.

Let me walk you through the enfer (hell) that was my unforgettable jour de beauté.

I come in out of the rain and am greeted at the front desk -- so far, so good. My technician says, "follow me." I follow her down a miniscule corkscrew staircase into the deep, nether regions of hell. Upon stepping off the last step, I trip over another step going up into the darkened room where the procedures are about to unfold.

Elle: "I'm sorry, I always forget to tell people about that step. Don't worry, everyone trips on it."

Moi: "OK."

Elle: "Here's your paper string and hat. Just hang your clothes up over there. I'll light the candles and turn up the heat."

(Ed. Note: It already felt like a vivarium in there, but thank the gods for the candles.)

Moi: "OK."

(Ed. Note: No changing room, no slippers, no robe, no privacy.)

Elle: "You can get up on the table -- either front or back, your choice."

Moi: "OK."


















Elle: "You said you didn't want "La Gourmandise Gommage" [chocolate] so I prepared one with orange oil and salt. How's that?"

Moi: "Perfect."

I lie down on my chest and she begins gently, annoyingly so, rubbing the above mentioned mixture on my body, starting with my calves, moving down to my feet and eventually working her way from the point where my neck meets my shoulders and scrupulously avoiding my hands, stopping abruptly at the wrist bone. 

(When I turn over I rip the cottony paper sheet and knock the pillow on the floor. At this point my body is fused with the hot pleather table, forcing me to descend so she can re-make the bed.)

As she worked, the room got hotter and hotter. Then she started coughing, choking, wheezing, sneezing, and generally covering me with germs. All I could think was, "We are in germ heaven, the perfect Petrie dish/Bunsen burner conditions of heat and moisture and I'm the culture."




















Finally, I can't stand the hacking any longer. I jump off the table (wearing my paper hat and string and nothing else), grab my bag and hand her a box of Strepsils. She stops coughing, but not sniffling.

Moving right along. . .

Elle: "Now you have to take a shower. Be careful, it's dark in there."

Moi: "OK."

I get out of the shower and she hands me a new paper string and a towel -- not a bath sheet mind you. I dry myself and anticipate the finale, the envelope.























While I was showering she prepared the table with what looked like a huge Hefty bag, cut and spread from end-to-end to protect the pleather. I lie down and the Hefty bag immediately sticks to my body. She peels it off. This happens several times. 

Next she gingerly applies essence of rose oil, same procedure, no hands, no neck, no massage. It's hard to imagine, but liquids can be applied to the body with barely a touch. I wanted to say to her, "Just pour the oil on me and roll me around on the Hefty bag."

The envelope. . .

The idea behind the straight jacket/envelope is that once the dead skin is exfoliated and rinsed clean, the rose oil will penetrate into the epidermis and leave it feeling like charmeuse

Now she finally purposely wraps me in the Hefty bag, my arms are along my sides and she locks me into a heated something or other, snap, snap, snap.

Elle: "I'll set the timer for 20 minutes and then I'll be back."

Moi: "OK."

























Instead of lying on my back, I'm lying pinned to the table on my stomach. After about three minutes the pain starts radiating from my neck, across my shoulders, down my spinal column finally pooling out in the lower lumbar region where it stays and congeals, occasionally sending messages back up to my neck.

Another adage leaps to mind in my near delirium, "stewing in her own juices." I'm boiling alive and there is no escape.

I'm generally not claustrophobic, but I'm getting wild and have no way to alert anyone to my pain and suffering. Plus, I'm dying of thirst.  Ten minutes in I consider doing a fish flop to turn myself over. Then, despite the raging agony, I have a lucid moment wherein I realize I couldn't get the proper leverage off of the table and would probably flip myself onto the tile floor and knock myself out. As the minutes ticked ever-so-slowly by I begin hallucinating about how pleasant it would be to lie unconscious on the cool, cool tiles. 

She walks through the door to the ring of the bell, spreads a few more germs about the room and releases me from my envelope prison.

Elle: "You can get dressed now."

Moi: "OK."

Elle: "So how did you like it?"

Moi: "I hated it. I thought I was going to die."

Elle: "That's too bad, a lot of people really like it. It's probably because you were lying on your stomach instead of your back. I should have mentioned that. It can be quite painful."

I get dressed, walk out of the dark room, and trip down the step.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Proving Gorgeous "Cannes" Be Ageless

Ines de la Fressange
Off to Paris so will leave you with some femmes of a certain age eye-candy walking the walk on the red carpet at the 65th annual Cannes Film Festival.

Jane Fonda

Tilda Swinton

Salma Hayek
Some are on the lighter end of un certain age, others not so much, but I think they all look splendid.

Isabelle Huppert
Yesterday I was having a conversation with one of my closest friends -- she's American and has lived in France for nearly 40 years. I said to her, "I'm beginning to think the only way to be and/or stay beautiful is to be rich." She disagreed. "I think it's about proper eating habits and being happy," she declared. "Of course good bone structure helps," she added.

I like her recipe, plus my Eurcerin, etc. . .

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Slaying the Closet Monster – Part 1

Imagine if you only had an armoire to arrange your wardrobe. At least you would know what you own and organization would be imperative.

Marie-Therese Norris, French wardrobe consultant extraordinare and creator of the blog, 
The French Touch, is back to tell us about closet organization which she does for her clients. In our pre-post conversation we both agreed this is a subject that has been discussed to death, but I insisted I would love to hear her take on the challenge. 


Here she offers the preliminaries, next week she will tell us what happens after the purge.

The last time we were together, Ladies, I had to rush off to do battle with a closet monster. Tish thought you might be interested in a few of my dragon-slaying techniques.

In the opera “Siegfried,” the title character goes into a dark and foreboding forest to slay a dragon that guards a cave full of gold. Our young hero is handsome, fearless and totally clueless about life and love. Not his fault, really. Orphaned at birth, he was raised in that same dark forest by an evil dwarf who plans to poison Siegfried as soon as the dragon is slain so he can get his hands on the gold.


Armed only with a magic sword, Siegfried slays the dragon and, after tasting the beast’s blood, is granted the power to understand the songs of the forest creatures and read the hearts and minds of men.

While it would be really helpful to have a magic sword and dragon’s blood handy, I must use more mundane means to slay the monster in my clients' closets.

Before I arrive at the precipice of her deep, dark closet, I ask my client to do two things:

1) Segregate or remove out-of-season clothes (we’ll get to them next season).

2) Set aside the clothes she would normally wear within a period of a week or so. (This gives me a clue to her lifestyle and favorite “go-to” pieces.)

Because Wardrobe Consultations are intense, emotional and draining for the client, I usually schedule several sessions, normally lasting no more than three hours each. The clothes in a woman’s closet represent her life, so I need to be firm but gentle.

Just looking at this makes me nervous.
Step 1: I make four piles:

“T” for Toss – items that are beyond saving or wearing.

“F” for Fix – keeper items that need some TLC (i.e., cleaning, missing buttons, hem repair, alterations, re-invention).

“D” for Donate – items that are in good repair but don’t work for the client (i.e., out-of-style, don’t fit, etc.).

“S” for Sentiment – items that client holds onto for sentimental reasons (more on that later).

Step 2: I make a quick scan of the closet as if I were flipping through books of wallpaper samples to eliminate items that really jump out at me as totally wrong – wrong color, wrong cut, jackets from the ‘80s, tee shirts with logos or “witty” sayings, such as “I’m with Stupid,” sweat shirts that tell the world “Jack’s Firehouse Has Great Eats,” etc.

You get the idea.

Step 3: I evaluate the “go-to” pieces, which can run the gamut from stay-at-home Mom to work-place/professional clothes. As more women work from home, I am seeing less work-place/professional clothes among the “go-to” pieces and more over-sized tee-shirts and sweats, the outfit of choice for the busy American woman.

She hits the ground running in the morning and doesn’t stop until she collapses, exhausted, into bed at night. The last time she bought a sexy “Date Night” outfit she was 30 pounds thinner. Now, when she squeezes into it, instead of saying, “Let’s Go Out to Dinner, Honey,” it says “Hi, Sailor, lookin’ for a good time?”

Step 4: With the List of Wardrobe Basics as a guide, we go through the closet together to see if the client already has some of these important pieces. Sometimes we get lucky; sometimes we don’t.

Step 5: This is the most exhausting Step. From this point on, we will look at and, if needed, try on every piece and make a decision. Keepers are moved to the front of the closet to be arranged later. Everything else gets tossed onto one of the four piles.

A well-organized closet, yes, but an essential detail is missing. . .
If the client does not have a favorite charity, I always recommend taking the Donation pile to the Good Will or the Salvation Army. Holiday-themed sweaters are always a big favorite among the residents of St. Mary’s Catholic Home, where I donate my time and where my Mother has lived for the last four years. They absolutely adore anything in bright, festive colors with Easter bunnies, Christmas kitties and puppies with Santa hats, and so on.

The items on the Sentimental pile are usually the hardest to part with. Often they represent something or someone special from the client’s past – the sweater that Grammy Emmy knitted for her when she went off to college; the pink dress that got her elected Prom Queen; the macramé vest she was wearing the night she met her husband…..and so it goes.

One could get sentimental about Siegfried, n'est-ce pas?
If she has room in her closet, I tell her to keep them (I do have a heart!), but to put them way, way in the back and “please promise me you will never, ever wear them!!”

At the end of three hours, there is a fifth pile labeled “C” for Client, as she lies in a heap, exhausted but happy. I told you this would be exhausting; but it’s worth it.

Get control of your closet; get control of your life.

Sometimes, I think I’m getting a bit too old to slay dragons, but I know I’ll feel better after a long, hot soak and a very large Kir.

Next up, we put my client’s closet back together. I’ll tell you about some surprising things I’ve found in closets, give you some quick tips and -- throw a few other things into the mix.

A plus tard.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Great British Style


 Welcome to today's guest post from the brilliant writer of one of my favorite blogs, That's Not My Age. Once you have met her and become addicted to her style, there is no turning back.


Here she talks about why British style is unique and "gutsy" and creative. Every year, French fashion magazines devote an issue to the subject. I think it's an excellent idea which we can pursue in this space. I trust you will agree.


          Earlier this year, I experienced a strange sensation – and no, I hadn’t been reading Fifty Shades of Grey. For the first time in my life, I felt quite proud to be British. Proud to be living in London, in 2012. There was the David Hockney exhibition to look forward to, the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and the small matter of the Olympic Games. Fast forward a couple of months and the city is awash with Union Jack flags, the shops are full of cheap patriotic tat and, apparently, Harrods is playing the national anthem at midday, everyday, from now until the first weekend in June. It’s enough to drive customers straight through the doors of Harvey Nichols  - and to get me playing Anarchy in the UK full blast.

So amidst all the hype and hoo-hah, I’ve been thinking a lot about Great British style. And what makes British fashion so great. Here’s what I’ve come up with:



Lulu Kennedy

1.    The Art of Rebellion

Street style is such a massive influence on British fashion: Teds, mods, punks all stepped up from the sidewalk to the catwalk. Being a rebel is no longer confined to tartan, leopard print and leather - it’s more about having a punk attitude than dressing like a seventies throwback. Whether that’s Kate Moss having a fag on the catwalk at Louis Vuitton, Helena Bonham Carter in Victorian bloomers or Lulu Kennedy (founder of Fashion East and talent scout for young London designers) wearing a tiara to collect her CBE. Wanting to stand out from the crowd, to make an unexpected style statement is a quintessentially British thing. And the reason why Vivienne Westwood has gone from punk pariah to national treasure.


Patrick Grant.
Savile Row protest.

2.    English Heritage

Whether it’s as a status symbol or an ironic gesture, investing in the best of British garb is a popular national hobby. The Burberry trench, Liberty print shirt  - make that Nike Air Max, if you can get hold of a pair! -  Barbour jacket, Mulberry bag, Church’s brogue (we still love them even though they’re now owned by Prada) and good old Harris Tweed. Key ingredients that help make traditional British style, a cut above. I was delighted in April, when an elegantly dressed crowd of Savile Row tailors protested against the opening of an Abercrombie & Fitch kid’s store on their patch. With placards declaring,‘ Give three-piece a chance,’ and immaculate suits, they fired a shot across the bow of the Abercrombie upstarts. Hands off our heritage! 

Bella Freud.

3.    Imperfect Beauty

As Dame Edith Sitwell once said, Why not be oneself? That is the whole secret of a successful appearance. If one is a greyhound, why try to look like a Pekinese?’ From gappy teeth and tousled hair to idiosyncratic style, being oneself and being relaxed about one’s appearance is part of a Brit’s DNA. It’s all about not looking like you’ve tried too hard, even when you have. Think Jane Birkin in khaki and Converse, with her customized bag and DIY haircut, Alexandra Shulman, Kate Moss, Bella Freud. All these women look distinctly low-maintenance, carefree and confident. Artfully disheveled. And, of course, very British.

Tilda in a tux.

4.    It’s a Boy/Girl Thing

From Vita Sackville West to David Bowie, to Tilda Swinton as David Bowie  (have you seen Tilda Stardust Tumblr? It’s fantastic). We’re not the only nation to embrace androgyny but we’re more than happy to experiment with gender roles and wear each other’s clothes. Unafraid of looking mannish, in my time I’ve worn second-hand men’s shoes/jackets/coats, my dad’s old shirts and my grandad’s dressing gown. Mr That’s Not My Age has dabbled with eyeliner, and sarongs. And that was way before Beckham, he’d like me to point out. Men dressed in women’s clothing – I’m thinking Mick Jagger in the Park – girls who look like boys: Twiggy, Stella Tennant, Sarah Lucas. Much better to look interesting than obvious.

Now, we’ve got that sorted…where did I put that copy of Tatler, you know, the one with the corgi on the front cover?




And I'd just like to say a big thank you to Tish for letting me loose on her blog. It's an honour and a privilege.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Mother of the Betrothed Goes HOT



A perfect dress -- details below -- to couple with the perfect bolero. What more could the MOB (or MOG)  want, except perfect happiness for the betrothed of course?

My great friend, Janice, creator of the absolutely divine blog, The Vivienne Files, is back again today with  our continuing series on dressing the mothers of the betrothed. This week the wedding is in Provence. Provence calls for color and as you can see, she has once again pulled together another swoon worthy wardrobe.
Bolero - Vionnet

ClutchPoupee, garnet earrings – Macy’s, Black top – Tibi, lace skirt – Moschino Cheap & Chic, sandals – Maison Martin Margiela, Red dress – Vince, red stud earrings – Wallis Fashion, slingbacks – Costume National

Bracelet – Tattooed Steel, red sandals – Costume National, Black tank – VINCE, Red capris – Marc by Marc Jacobs, sunglasses – Yves Saint Laurent, cowl tank – Weekend by Maxmara, walking shorts – Lord & Taylor, bracelet – Carolee, espadrilles – Bank Fashion

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