December 20, 2008
As usual, when I am in Paris, I strip.`
I wear minis. Mini-shorts, mini-dresses, mini-skirts. Summer or winter, I couldn’t care less.
What do I care if it is -2°C outside? I am wearing tights, I am FINE.
I guess it would be alright if, following every relatively tasteful girl’s mantra, I shoed it down : if you wear something really short and unless you were born in Kiev, you wear flats. So that when guys check you out, they think “Who is that girl?” and not “How much is that girl?”. Anyway. I try, I really do try to stick by the rule of good taste, but it IS difficult. I love heels, and I can’t wear them in Jaipur. The moment I land in Paris I am a good 10 cm higher. I suffer like hell, but I am so happy. So happy that I don’t care if my sisters don’t want to be seen with me.