My mother still gets upset with me every time we move. She believes I morph into a local every time. I change my style and don't keep my own personality, she claims.
I cannot let that sit on me because I KNOW I have my personal style, BUT I can't help thinking of her as I stride down the avenues of Paris catching glimpes of my reflection in the shop windows. I love bright colours, especially pink, but I have resigned to wearing black like everybody else does in this city. I don't particularly wish to dress like everybody else, nor am I a fashion victim but I have to admit that no colour is more elegant than black, plus it is slimming (at least optically).
I am dressed all in black like all Parisians with just the slightest touch of pink. I have taken to wearing high heels even in the snow and have a fluffy (black) fur collar bouncing up and down around my face. I don't walk out the door without my fuchsia or deep plum lipstick (depending on my mood) and my nails are painted a deep dark purple. Does that sound Parisian to you? It sure isn't the way I ran around in Lugano.
But as Mum ALSO says: in the end, the most important factor is that my family and I are happy! And we are! In the meantime, just let me perfect my Parisian accent....