These dove-grey, gently storming mornings in Paris feel softened by the rain. Trench coats replace leathers, standoffish editors lend umbrella cover, and when I get out of the damp and into a show, the place feels tingly with shared relief. I liked it–til I woke up today and found I had fallen way down the weather. Okay, a confession: the causes might not be all natural. I could be blamed, too, for living on macaroons & menthol lights in between vegetable-free meals. In a word, I feel ick. And if it were any other day, I’d have stayed under the covers and ordered in curry.

But today was Chanel day, and maybe I’m sick in more ways than one, but I genuinely felt I didn’t have a choice. Had to gloss over my head cold, put on major heels and a little gilt, and cab out to Le Grand Palais by 10:30 in the morning. Worth it? Beyond. Read the rest of this entry »