NEWS FLASH: I turned 35 this week. It felt just like any other birthday, with the exception of one thing – it was one of those “mid” birthdays. Remember the first time you had to refer to yourself as “mid-twenties,” and you realized all those life expectations you set for yourself in your younger years were like one big fat joke played on you by the universe? Saying things like, “I’m totally gonna be married with a kid by the time I’m 25” or “I’m gonna live in a big house with two dogs and an awesome car.” But that’s the beauty of young naivety – you can dream about these things and no one will fault you for it. In fact, your parents even condone it all the while secretly knowing that life is a heck of a lot more unpredictable than you can explain to a teenager.
Coming off the heels of Paris Fashion Week, I thought it would be apropos to finally pay some homage to French fashion. I can’t really pinpoint exactly when I started to admire French style, but there truly is something undeniably classy about the way their women dress and carry themselves. Being a first generation Italian-American, with a father who had some very serious Sicilian roots – I was lucky enough to have grown up traveling Europe, visiting family in southern Italy and Sicily. Because my parents both had a deep love affair with Paris, we always flew Air France to squeeze in a stop over on our travels to Italy. Truth be told, they just had the genius to realize French airplane food is better than whatever those other airlines call that stuff (I’m going with “goulash”).