Le People

The heel of your black pump just broke. Thank god it’s not your Louboutins, but still. It’s not like Zara costs nothing. Shit! You say to yourself again. You like the way the word feels, more racy, more tendance than merde. You picked it up in Ibiza last summer – someone brought some Americans and every time you said it, everyone thought you were adorable. And you are adorable. A little naughty, a little spoiled, but that pout is what got you into Buddha Bar back when it was someplace, and what gets you the best service at the bar at Georges V now. It’s also what got you your fiancé, the son of some count or other played-out royalty. No matter, he looks great on your arm at those charity parties on rue Montagne. So boring, but it’s for charity so you have another glass of champagne and practice your pout. But now you’re on your way to brunch and you’re going to be late thanks to the pump. No matter, it always looks better to sweep in a little late and let people wonder what delayed you. Your pout and tousled hair says it was a quick tryst; nobody needs to know about your pump. But still, you’d better send a texto to Charlene and at least let her know – they’re her pumps, en fait. Luckily you’re not far from home which is, of course, in the 8ème. You keep telling yourself that you’re too young for the 16ème but you don’t lose sight of it. As soon as things get more serious with someone, you’ll get a place there. It’s the only place in Paris that you’d want to have your kids grow up in. “Only the best” you repeat to yourself. And honestly, who even goes past the Madeleine? What do people do there? You check Voici on your iPhone and find out that David Guetta is playing on friday. Can you make it? Oh, please.

Save