An excerpt from How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are: Love, Style, and Bad Habits
1:00 p.m.: First Date at the Café de Flore
She picks up the menu. Each time, the same thought crosses her mind: In her hands, this is more of a geographical map, an intimate and chaotic path through the jungle of her culinary neuroses, than a restaurant menu. She will have to battle her way without stumbling, and without looking like she’s asking herself too many questions.
No, wrong choice. She’ll just end up using the salmon as a pretext for eating all the blinis and crème fraîche. Her greed could end up on her hips.
Does this man sitting across from her realize how difficult it is to be a woman in this city? Probably not. But she doesn’t want to judge him too quickly.
Haricots verts salad
The problem with a first date is that her every gesture will take on a particular meaning. He’s watching her as if he’s filming her, recording her movements forever: the way in which she loses her phone in her large handbag, and that message on her voice mail she can’t help listening to in front of him. He is analyzing her. Disorganized, a tad nervous, compulsively sociable. One day, later on, he will find out that she weighs herself every morning, but for now, he must believe that her figure is simply nature’s gift. Better to choose a real dish, giving him the hackneyed image of a bon vivant and letting him believe that this is her approach to all the great pleasures of life.
Warm duck confit?
Her finger, somewhat nervously, scrawls down several lines on this damned menu. The waiter is coming over, and she knows she will have to come to a decision. And so she figures she will brave the danger with an act of courage. She will choose something adventurous:
“Welsh rarebit,” she says.
She reads out the foreign words so casually you’d think she’d done it a hundred times before. The man opposite her looks up, surprised, and she savors the effect. Of course, she has no idea what she’s just ordered. On the menu, in small print, it says: “a specialty made from cheddar, beer, and toast.” Inwardly she smiles: inedible. No matter, she will talk enough for him not to notice that she’s ignoring her plate. The waiter then turns to the man.
“I’ll have the same, please,” he says.
In a flash, the whole scene crumbles. A sheep, a follower. Suddenly she realizes that his conversation has been peppered with banalities for the past half hour. She now knows she’ll eat two bites, then find a reason to leave before the hour is up. And she will never see him again. Adieu.
Caroline de Maigret began her modeling career in 1994 and she didn’t take too long to start Working for brands like chanel or Balenciaga. She is one of the authors of “How to be a Parisian Wherever You Are”, a chanel muse, a Model, The granddaughter of Michel Poniatowski and a Music Producer. And she is the most parisian girl in the world!
Caroline de Maigret começou uma sua carreira de modelo em 1994, e não foi preciso muito tempo para se associar às mais prestigiadas marcas, como Chanel ou Balenciaga. Ela é uma das autoras do livro “How to be a Parisian Wherever You Are”, uma das musas da Chanel, modelo, neta do Michel Poniatowski e produtora de música. Além de tudo isto, ela é a mais parisiense de todas as mulheres!