Lesson number two learnt: wearing
a flimsy silk dress whilst holding a handbag has shocking consequences. Let me explain. I was walking along Av. Wagram after visiting
a friend in their flat near the Champs Elysées. I was talking to my friend, minding my own
business, when a woman came up to me and said “you may want to put your handbag
on your other arm….because your dress is riding up and I can see everything”. What exactly she meant by everything, I don’t quite know. But I can only presume that I was leaving
little to the imagination. I blushed,
laughed awkwardly, and replied with a curt “thanks” before expressing my horror. I don’t think I’d go up to a stranger on the
street and tell them their nipple was on show, or that they had loo roll stuck between
their legs. I think I’d just laugh, and
point. #sarcasm (slightly). I was however reassured that I could finally
cover up my derriere, and relieved that she hadn’t finished her sentence with “…because
someone is trying to steal your purse”.
Instead, I’d flirted with a bit of immodest bum flashing aka PDA (Public
display of ASS). All I’m sayin’ is:
Thank God I was wearing underwear. Not
that I ever don’t for that matter…
I also learnt last night that
talking in an American accent works wonders for me. I’ve been known to switch in and out of
accents (poorly), but being half-American, I’ve somehow acquired an alter-ego,
and she knows how to work the American accent to a fine line. There I was, sat between an Asian and a
Russian, who were stunned to discover my secret aptitude. Apparently switching from Queen English to
Sassy American is a transferable skill worth using. It earned me at least 3 vodka shots, which of
course I watered down with a G&T because I cannot stand Vodka, and I’m
badass. Literally. Apparently the English are too refined and reserved
when it comes to talking. Who would have
thought. Guess I gotta get my twang
going.
Watch this space.
Montana
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