As I walk around Paris everyday it feels like every inch of the city is drawing me in, pulling me into its various pockets of temptation. It is the ultimate city for women in many ways. Everything focuses on their desires, senses, and longings. The lingerie shops exude sexiness and class, the chocolate shops are extraordinarily decadent, the designer clothes shops are devastatingly posh, even the food stalls are too tempting with their luscious fruit displays. These glories surround me every day, begging me to stop, look, taste, buy, indulge.
Living in such a city is bringing out my ultra feminine side. I find myself making more of an overall effort with my appearance, wearing perfume more often, moisturizing every bit of my body rather than just the required below knee bits, and attempting to wear matching lingerie. There’s something about Paris that makes me want to feel sexy, toujours.
Maybe it’s the array of men in view. Big cities offer more flavour, but there is something about French men that can send tingles to undiscovered places (I’m talking more Olivier Martinez types here rather than your local tubby poissoniere). The dark, brooding features, the sexy accent, the aggressive passion in everything they say and do. Basically, they love women and aren’t afraid to show it, it’s up to you whether you view it as vulgar chauvinism or simple appreciation for the opposite sex. Personally, I view any attention as flattering in a city full of beautiful people, (observable beauty that is, Parisian inner beauty is a phenomenon undiscovered in my experience).
The city of chocolate and cheese, champagne and shopping, culture and hauteur, Paris can be a girl’s best friend, or enemy. Either way, I’m going to just embrace it all and see what happens….
Living in such a city is bringing out my ultra feminine side. I find myself making more of an overall effort with my appearance, wearing perfume more often, moisturizing every bit of my body rather than just the required below knee bits, and attempting to wear matching lingerie. There’s something about Paris that makes me want to feel sexy, toujours.
Maybe it’s the array of men in view. Big cities offer more flavour, but there is something about French men that can send tingles to undiscovered places (I’m talking more Olivier Martinez types here rather than your local tubby poissoniere). The dark, brooding features, the sexy accent, the aggressive passion in everything they say and do. Basically, they love women and aren’t afraid to show it, it’s up to you whether you view it as vulgar chauvinism or simple appreciation for the opposite sex. Personally, I view any attention as flattering in a city full of beautiful people, (observable beauty that is, Parisian inner beauty is a phenomenon undiscovered in my experience).
The city of chocolate and cheese, champagne and shopping, culture and hauteur, Paris can be a girl’s best friend, or enemy. Either way, I’m going to just embrace it all and see what happens….
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