All that glitters

Now that the weather has lighten up, and with it my mood, I made my way to something I have been dying to see, Les Arts Decrotif's Louis Vitton/ Marc Jacobs exhibit.

I love fashion exhibits. Ever since I stumbled upon the METs exhibit on Fashion models and photography, I jump at any chance to see the body of work for designers.

The LV/MJ exhibit did not disappoint, introducing me to the background of Louis Vitton, who was a pioneers of luggage, and name recognition. It was like being taken back to the nineteenth century. The graphics were beautiful animated pen drawings that translated the era. Everything was understated, the rooms were dark, illuminating where your eyes needed to go.

The clothing of the era, which because of the explosion in fashion boutiques and the accessibility of cheaper clothing extended the wardrobe and pieces worn by women of the time, was luxurious, in the amount of layers a proper women wore. My eyes were drawn back to behind the mannequins and there layers to a mirror reflecting my contemporary dress. Black tights, a grey mini dress, black flats and a trench coat. Compared to the mannequins I was practically naked.

It is interesting that the Louis Vitton logo I associate with the designer was not actually created by him. His son George Vitton actually created the logo, 4 years after his death.

Once I finished with the dream like LV portion of the exhibit, I headed up stairs to the Marc Jacob half. This was the man who turned LV into a true fashion icon. This is the guy I have to give credit too, as to why I dream of the speedy.

The brightness of MJs half of the exhibit was a bit of a visual overload for me. Lots of colors and mannequins with animal heads. Marc Jacobs himself taking about his ideas, from his very first LV show in 1997, though his collaborations with other designers who's creativity was used with the classic logo to create a modern timeless.

Now that my head is full of the beauty of LV/MJ, maybe I should do some shopping?

Dear Feminists

Is unattached sex the driving force behind all human endeavors? Is money really the most important product in the world?

Reading news articles about the feminist movement in the US I would think that. Yesterday was "Equal Pay Day," for women? I don't understand why this day even exists. Are there some big bad people out there oppressing women and making them work for sub-par wages?

In truth, I caught a Forbes article titled 'It's time to bury the myth of gender inequality in pay,' () that described this gap as only based on the median wages of men and women. This doesn't take into account motivation of women and men, along with the actual jobs they do, (I for one will never be working on an oil rig or fishing boat, high paying jobs typically held by men.)

Between this and the great contraceptive debate of March 2012, where feminist screamed and yelled that it was a women's health issue, to take birth control and have abortions, I'm feel more oppressed by the women's movement then any man I know.

What if I don't want to make equal pay as a man because I have other goals outside of my career? As a writer I make nada, but it affords me the ability to travel unencumbered by a desk, boss, apartment? How else would I be writing from Paris. Thankfully, with the support of a MAN, my wonderful, Generous father, I get the freedom to write on the train as I look at the Eiffle Tower every day.

Of course, I do not have any delusions that I will be able to live this life forever. I will get a supplemental job soon enough, if only to pay for part of my expenses and to keep me slightly occupied as I pursue my own goals.

Such arguments that blow things out of proportion like the wage gap or contraception have done little besides give the media something exciting to talk about. Polarizing people doesn't do anything but piss people off. I for one want to crawl under the bed every time I hear or read someone talk about evil rich people or religious zealots trying to oppress women. Seriously?

Maybe it is time for the feminist movement to stop acting like the Duke Lacrosse teams accuser and start asking how they could be of help to all people whether they are housewives or CEOs. Because until they stop trying to oppress men in favor some misguided attempt to get "equality" I wont have anything to do with them.

The ultimate gamble

Anyone who has gone to Las Vegas with me knows I am a gambler. Screw the clubs... Too much noise, too many guys trying to grab me. Too many people in general. I can hang for a bit, but once my senses are overloaded and I need a break, my friends all knew I'd be at a table.

Of course now that I'm in Paris, there is like 7,000 miles between me and Vegas. Along with a continent and an ocean. But I am thinking about the gamble I keep taking that seems to never pay off.

A very long time ago, my high school best friend Alena said to me as I nursed yet another broken heart, "when you find the right guy, you will be married in 6 months."

God, sometimes I wish that was true.

So I gamble. But I have moved on mostly from chips worth $10 to something so much more valuable to me. My heart.

I wish I knew how to get through my life without putting my heart on the line. The years I swore myself to celibacy all I still wanted was someone special in my life. Now I feel those years were wasted. I spent them out of the game.

Now I'm back in, and determined to win it. No my parents couldn't teach me how to win, but surely my paternal grandparents and the love they had for each other has to be a glimpse at what I have to share.

Free falling might be great because it gives your friends a chance to catch you, but only if you trust others to catch you. Kal mused once about our bet that there was more than $100 on the line. He was right. Didn't stop him from all but forgetting about me once he got back to his side of the pond.

Maybe my question is when does this become insane? How many times should I continue gambling at something that hasn't paid off? If his was cash, my friends would have dragged me off of the tables by now? Right?

The Pub Crawl

It was brought to my attention I managed to skip writing about one of the most interesting nights in Paris... The Paris Brit Expats Pub Crawl.

Sigh, I love the Brits. They sure know how do make a girl feel at home. Or perhaps maybe wishing I was born on a different continent.

The night started out like most other nights, I was late, kind of lost, and a bit nervous about showing up at a pub crawl all by myself. Even when I met the group coordinator, I was still a bit scared. However, then I got to talking with a Midwest American couple, and began to remember why I'm no longer there.

At the second bar I was at I got into an interesting discussion about 80s music with an adorable man. It kind of started with the first thing popping out of my mouth having to do with how horrible the song was and that I would actually leave a night club if I heard this playing. Alright, over dramatic and a bit snarky I suppose, but really, it's me here. Snarky is one of the things I do best.

Interestingly enough, this Brit did not give me the "ball buster" look I usually get for my sarcastic ways. Instead we traded jabs about music for a little while... Him trying to "dig his way out of the negative points," he started with the very first song. Of course he might have caught up when I let is slip I have the same birthday as Justin Bieber. Thanks Hailey for that piece of information I might never get out of my brain.

I chatted with a number of people that night. Mostly Brits, with a few French and Australian, mixed in for good measure. I lost track of the Americans. Even though the women had a rather interesting job doing a mix of programming and training for a company setting up call centers.

It's weird trying to write about this night. Some of the things that make the night so wonderful are deeply personal. Like when I was headed to the third bar and beginning to cross the street the adorable Brit I was flirting about 80s music with took my hand. It startled me, but was so comforting. Just a simple act of helping me across a road made me feel safe in a way I long for. It's not the same safe as in I'm in a dangerous area and need protecting, but in a deeper, more feminine way. Like watching out for me was in his nature.

I really didn't expect to have anything come from that night. Really. Even when I first started talking to this guy, I didn't expect to be thinking about it now. Maybe that's proof positive of how off my radar is. Totally didn't realize he was interested in me. I felt awkward, a bit guarded. Maybe subconsciously trying to push him away before anything even happened. We danced, late in the night, too a song from Grease. We laughed. It felt amazing. I didn't really want the night to end.

He invited me back to his place, and fear kicked in. Just a little, a slow simmer, that nearly took over me later on. Dating these days is weird. I have been told so many times by nearly every article I have ever read, my friends and even by my own crazy mind how going home with a guy when you first meet him is the kiss of death. Yet there I was, looking into his blue eyes and I asking him, "do I trust you?" he replied yes. And... I believed him.

I wonder

I wonder if I can ask God when I die for a peak into the heads and hearts of all those I have loved.

I wonder if their heads and hearts are like mine. Do they feel the same sense of free falling with no end? Are they so embarrassed by their past and feel it replaying in their heads over and over? Do they feel the unending pain of trying and failing but feeling like they could of or should have done better?

Do they feel the same amount of shame at not having everything society tells you should have?

Is everyone a lost soul? Or am I the only one?

If I get this look into these loved ones heads am I going to be overwhelmed by sympathy and regret for not realizing they are just as wounded as I am? Or will I see that I am legitimately crazy?

Would I have treated these other lost souls differently? If I knew what they were thinking and feeling? Would I have spoken up when I was quiet, reached out when I held back? Comforted them when I pushed them away?

Could I have helped them? Could I have made life a little less lonely for them? Could I have made a difference?

I wonder all the time if I am doing the right thing. Do others do as well? I look at some people and can't tell. They were so confident, so self assured. Could I get a bottle of that please?

More questions than answers today.