'Her manner is shy, but casual and friendly, and her gamine face crinkles easily into an attractive, rather secret smile. She wore a simple black sweater and gray skirt; if she is a vain girl the only indication of it was her high-heeled shoes, which were of elegantly worked light gray leather... She is sincere and helpful, but questions that are pompous or elaborate, or about personal life, or that might be interpreted as challenging her work, are liable to elicit only a simple “oui” or “non,” or “je ne sais pas—je ne sais pas du tout”—and then an amused, disconcerting smile.'
On Francoise Sagan's style, The Paris Review Art of Fiction No. 15
La Garconne Moderne is the epitome of how I wished I dressed. Therein lies the slight - and yes, slightly upsetting - distinction, in that even though in my head I look like this as I go about my daily chores it all ends up a bit scruffier due to my general inability to look put together. Such is life. As it is the quarterly look books that are posited unceremoniously into my inbox provide me with endless sartorial inspiration. A pair of straight leg jeans and a turtleneck here, a tunic and a barette there, there's something about the way these ensembles - inspired by thoughtful, understated icons like Joan Didion - speak for themselves, just loud enough to be noticed by those who are truly looking for them. Style that is secretive in its elegance and distinction, that conceals much - the body, the insecurities, the price tags - but that still has that certain something the French like to call je ne sais quoi. Every season La Garconne Moderne has it, and I want it, oh so badly.
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