Nothing says I’m in my happy place like Paris, and nothing says I’m worth it like a purchase from the YSL store in Saint Germain. Suffice to say I am both happy and worth it. The fact that I limited my purchase to two items is testament to my iron willpower (chokes) – not only was I mauling the shoes above, even when the lovely staff gave me pink champagne, I still managed to say “not this time”. Then run like hell as far as I could before I changed my mind.
In fairness, I was in need of both therapy and celebration – after many visits to Paris, today was my first ever Paris hair salon visit, and my first Paris wax. The salon felt chic and the wash basin chair massaged me blissfully, but the 172 euro bill for dying my regrowth put those spasms right back in my spine. The wax however was a revolution – none of this all-off-in-one-rip like I’ve grown used to in Melbourne, this was pièce par pièce French-style – after all as the therapist responded: “This is not a good time.” Understatement.