These pictures from 1962 show a side to Paris which you don’t often see anymore, the scruffy everyday chic when people only washed their hair a few times a week and scrubbed at stains rather than chuck it in the washing machine. I love seeing through the nostalgia to the smellier, dirtier times people lived [...]]]>

These pictures from 1962 show a side to Paris which you don’t often see anymore, the scruffy everyday chic when people only washed their hair a few times a week and scrubbed at stains rather than chuck it in the washing machine. I love seeing through the nostalgia to the smellier, dirtier times people lived in.

It reminds me of a line from For The City by Stevie Wonder, ‘her clothes are old but never are they dirty’. My grandfather is the KING of stain removal and general damage limitation. I remember him colouring in the soles of my shoes with a felt tip pen so they would match the leather better and rushing me to the bathroom to scrub off any flecks of watermelon juice. I guess that’s the legacy of growing up in an occupied country during the war, you had to be ingenious to look smart. It makes me smile when I think of ultra-expensive Ed Hardy style distressed jeans, my grandparents have never worn trainers, or even jeans.

Having to make do and mend, even during postwar years, is perhaps a reason that the French are so attached to classic looks. It’s one of the things that the French are great at, not replacing something old for something new unless absolutely necessary. I guess that’s why when I go to the Marché Victor Hugo in Toulouse you still see scenes like the mushroom stall pictured bottom right.

These pictures are from Flickr, found through India Knight’s amazing Posterous.

I’m going to France for a few days to see my grandparents in Toulouse and then hang out in Paris with my femibuds, go to Chartier, the brunch place in Jussieu and visit Mariage Freres for tea. Basically I’m gonna be stuffing my face with bloody steak & cheese. Oh and they’ll probably be a [...]]]>

I’m going to France for a few days to see my grandparents in Toulouse and then hang out in Paris with my femibuds, go to Chartier, the brunch place in Jussieu and visit Mariage Freres for tea. Basically I’m gonna be stuffing my face with bloody steak & cheese. Oh and they’ll probably be a few Kir Royales in the mix and I’m not promising I wont buy a copy or two of Voici. Jus sayin.

If everything goes to plan I should also be visiting the Vionnet exhibition, and the YSL museum too, so hopefully should have lots and lots to report back. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got half a stone to gain, ta-ra!

Listen to Je Suis Venu Te Dire Que Je M’en Vais by Serge Gainsbourg and try not to cry.