chic french women and ... me

Although, as you may know, I have lived in France for ever,  I can look the part and I know the lay of the land here, sometimes the more anglo-saxon laid back style of my true character bobs up to the surface and I get noticed.

Yesterday was such a day, fired up and inspired by the snowdrops I showed you, plus a little spring sunshine, I boldly kitted up and went forth into the garden, armed with secateurs, wheelbarrow and best welly boots to achieve great things.  What with the immensity of the tasks to deal with, and the fact that I was quite enjoying myself, I didn't notice how how late it was getting.

When I finally looked at my watch, and remembered that I had to buy a gift before picking the children up from school, I only had time to grab car keys and handbag before jumping into the car - still in my gardening gear.

It's hard to describe all the disdain that a chic French woman can compress into one look - I tore into the  pretty  parfumerie, (probably leaving a pretty little trail of garden dirt behind me), and the frozen smiles of the saleswomen said it all.  "Mon Dieu!  What does this woman think she looks like.?"

The very chic, perfectly made up, perfectly manicured young women in the parfumerie turned as one and swept their eyes from the toes of my muddy boots to the tips of  my tousled hair, then shrugged their shoulders in despair, glancing at each other, admitting that some cases were beyond hope.

Only when I opened my mouth to ask for the desired perfume did I notice a hint of a smile on the corner of their rather smug lips "OK, she's a foreigner .. then that explains it!"

Eh oui mes amies!  It's not always enough to  live in France, eating French food; in a French house, with a French husband and you even have French horses  ...  mais non, sometimes only the real thing will do!