Paris

As usual, a last-minute decision. Wednesday the 4th of july we went to book a train, out of the blue, after i quit work that evening. Departure for 11 july, and retour the 12th. Two days exclusively for shopping the sales at Paris.

The first metro we took we bumped into Diane Pernet!

One week before she visited the graduates-show of the Antwerp academy. I saw her on the news sitting next to Walter Van Beirendonck. Davy and me were sitting on the bench when suddenly in my eye-corner i saw this enormous pile of hair moving towards the back of the train. I was hyperventilating for 5 seconds, then calmed down and managed to spit out these holy words: "Diane Pernet is on this train!" Davy's head turned at the speed of light, his eyes spreading for approximately 5 inches.. We were like 8-year olds spotting Goofy at Disneyworld.

Just kidding...


Anyway........She sat down about 8 meters away from us. So we approached her a bit and waited untill the people next to her got off, which was on the next stop luckily... We slithered along the aisle, taking in places on her both sides, i think we scared the shit out of her HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Anyways, i started a small conversation: "Oh my god, you're Diane Pernet aren't you? (spotlight on her white-powdered face)" The woman willingly answered our cliché fan-like questions, but maintained a healthy distance. I was totally going bezerk! I realised it at the time but i was so excited i just couldn't restrain my enthusiasme! Anyways she got off at Louvre-Rivoli and we asked her for a pic. Le resultat au-dessus...

After this Jet-Set rencontre, our two-day conquest of couture just couldn't go wrong. Davy had made a map with 25 shops with possible hidden treasures we had to visit.

We got hold of a small loot at Dior: a shirt, a wallet (Davy) and sandals (me). Later on i found this legend Dior Homme scarf at l'Eclaireur.

Picture taken at the Palais Royal. We didn't wanna wander the streets looking like L.A. pampered wives while still having to take public transportation... So we went for an understated, more accessible look...

One that was sure to remain unnoticed by a possible mob of fag-haters... Don't worry Davy would stuff the scarf in the bag and i would take off my balenciaga every time more than 3 Africans were about to cross us on the sidewalk. Sightseeing the Hopital des Invalides last notice didn't really appeal to us...

Davy: skinny's Drykorn Jurgen: skinny's Surface 2 Air

bag: Virr. D. Menorca bag: Balenciaga

polo: April 77 polo: Peter Jensen for Fred Perry

belt: J. Lindeberg belt: 5-dollar self-made

At Dior Homme later that day. It's a seperate store, not on the Avenue Montaigne. It's independant from the flagship. After this picture we began socialising with security cause appearantly it's not allowed to take pictures due to industrial espionage.. It's surprising how intrigued those agents get by two fags entering like they own the place, speaking a strange foreign language and commanding the staff as their own. There's a gay deep in every one of them i'm telling you!

Our conquest spread out on the bed of our hotel... I was browsing through the Dior Haute Couture catalog we got at Avenue Montaigne, when all of the sudden it happened again.

COUTURE MOMENT

The endless stream of luxury we had absorbed throughout the day found it's expression in a self-made Dior replica. The new collection had not yet been shown at the time we took our pictures, so who are they to come up and talk about industrial espionage?

An outtake on how to use hotel-couvertures on an original way.Get packed Martha Stewart, you're out!

So far the child that originated from our brains...

This was the most impressive shop-entrance we have seen in Paris this year.. Maybe if we find Margiela next year we'll find something quite as stunning but a bit more understated.

It's the latest hype in Paris to do silly things with the scaffolds while a building is being renovated. This one popped out that's for sure. The illusion was so perfect you got nauseous looking at it.

The view from our room, the Arc de Triomphe was at the next crossing. It makes you wanna pack your bags and move your ass over there. Turned out some famous French writer had described the view from the terrace during his stay on the fifth floor of the hotel in one of his books.

The wonderfull Plaza Athénée straight across the Dior boutique at Avenue Montaigne.

The LVMH headquarters. The poles you see through the window were huge screens constantly changing images, a luxury brainwash on full display.

After this we got back to the station. I got a little panic attack when three Middle Eastern-looking men in military outfit, complete with 3-foot rifles, passed our little table while we were enjoying our last 7.5 euro Parisian coke, surrounded by boutique bags. I thought Al Quaeda was going to blow up the complex. Typically me. They used to say my fear of spiders was my way of expressing my sexual frustrations. I guess since my arachnophobia somewhat vanished lately, this must be my new "sexual-frustration-scapegoat": imagining impossible Die Hard With A Vengeance-scenario's in everyday life...

Prochain rendez-vous Parisien: the sales coming up in January 2008

Salut les mecs!