I agree with you Middle Sister that its great that Spring has arrived! Today, being Saturday, I woke up late and enjoyed getting dressed into a pair of shorts, sunglasses on and a big handbag, I skipped along the streets of Paris enjoying the sun, (proudly) resisting the ice cream and watching everyone around me… and suddenly I become extremely aware of how tiny Parisian women are… which led me to notice the size of my bottom, especially when I saw it’s reflection in the shop windows, it seems to “stand” out somewhat.

This reminded me of the last time I was particularly conscious of the size of my bum back when a pair of pants ate me! It was last year and I had just finished exams and to celebrate I decided to hit Long Street and Kloof, in Cape Town, for some serious retail therapy. I remember having had a fabulous morning and ended up in a gorgeous shop that was definitely way out of my price range but that didn’t stop me from trying on everything (although in Paris it does). And then I spotted them (I can still see the in my mind): the perfect pants. The shop assistant described them as ‘denim tights’ and said that they would look just fabulous on me, so I took size M and headed for the purple, fur lined, dimly lit change room. I put the pants on. It was then that I realised that no, I don’t have a muffin top but rather a couple cakes stuck onto the side of me but the pants were eventually on…however the cakes on the side seemed to be emphasised and we all know that pants that emphasise cake thighs is not a good look. I decided to take them off, face the fact that I cant wear size M super skinnys and carry on.

Well that was not as easy as it sounds. No, the pants had eaten me, perhaps they were enjoying the cakes! They wouldn’t come off! After much pulling (the pants down and my tummy in) eventually I got them to regurgitate half of my thighs but they were persistent on staying half up/half down! The shops assistant kept asking in a polite voice if I was okay (I didn’t respond), I think he thought I had eaten the pants. He then came to the door and past me a size L! Eventually after much tugging, giggling and red thighs i got the pants off! I remember the relief! I tried on the large but didn’t get them-realised that I am a true African with size L ass but only size M legs and although this was quite a disturbing realisation I think at least I have size M something.

Today as I strolled past the beautiful boutiques in the Marais and other areas of Paris I remembered my pant eating thigh experience and am not even tempted to enter the “out of my price range” stores because they definitely do not stock “African” sizes!


Apparently I am moving in the right circles … Today I shopped with Karl Lagerfeld. Perhaps the word “shopped” is an exaggeration, I more stood next to him or actually, I am trying to be honest here, I saw him in the corner of the shop that I was in and we were within about two meters of each other. I think that any closer I would have looked like a stalker and although photos, autographs, etc. etc. did enter my mind I decided to take the approach of “I know who he is, but really so what, I see these sorts of people and mix in these circles all the time”. Realistically though, I don’t.

BUT at 18.00 on Wednesday in Paris he and I were in the same shop. His designs are sold in it and I ogle over the things in it, which I can’t afford. He wore his black too tight suit (I saw more him than one would have expected in this situation, yes the suit is that tight), his grey hair tied back in a ponytail and his sunglasses on, I wore H&M jeans and a Woolies T-shirt. He has the security guards looking out for him and as I pull out my cell phone to excitedly text my family members the same security guards checked I was not taking a photo! I didn’t want to leave and seriously contemplated staying … perhaps he would come up to me and say, “You, you normal sized, H&M wearing, no make up girl, you will be my next model and my inspiration and have any fashion job you would like”. But once again I decided to be realistic (way more boring) and headed out, after taking one more glance … (to give him a second chance!).

Suddenly I feel an excitement about this city, as I strolled home through the Jardin des Tuileries, I feel that this is what Paris is suppose to be and after all Karl Lagerfeld, wearing his signature attire, is in Paris … how can one not find it fabulous? Although it does bother me somewhat that I have gotten so excited about a 69 year old man in too tight pants!