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BE READY AND HAPPY
Patricia is the queen of Grolles and hope.
A new adage at the start of this newsletter: all good things must come to an end. Isn't that a strange way of looking at the future ? Of life ? I hear a lot of people say that the younger generation, the one fed on screens, doesn't know frustration. I'm sorry to tell you that we no longer live under Charlemagne. And that quartered oranges as Christmas presents are a thing of the past. You are part of a rare and precious community.
A community capable of sublimating my days and nights. To come back to the looming end of the Mad Max license, which has become a money-spinner (by trying to feminize a supra-masculine thing, the world wonders about George Miller's propobable pushiness in trying to marry the contours of an age that is not fooled), I also wanted to mention the end of the sales.
Even though, as I was saying, I feel that during this period we should be raising our prices to match those of the Louboutes, it's my duty to tell you that you only have a few days left to treat your wonderful little feet. Your darling little feet, chirping like chicks waiting for their mother's beakful. And your mother is me. Me, disembarking from my flying saucer into your mailboxes, ready to receive the divine seed.
A seed in the form of glitter and bright colors that warm the heart and liven up the ball like no other. I would still hold your leg to put on a beautiful ankle boot or a lively pair of pumps. But I said it at the outset of this letter, the best things come to an end and this newsletter is spitting out its last letters before your sad and amazed eyes. But don't worry, I will come back very soon to inform you of this world which is not so bad.
