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OPEN THIS NEWSLETTER
Bamboléo - Bamboléa.
Today I want to strike. To let go and then write you the kind of news you receive so often. News like Asphalte, or Clarins. Something informative and ridiculous that is falsely informative and in no way humble or completely real. Newsletters are like those advertising leaflets that used to invade our mailboxes. The newsletter is now a modern evil. An evil that must be fought. Just like any other. Personally, I make it a point of honor to produce a newsletter that's always calibrated to give you a pleasant time.
So sometimes I slip up and talk about things other than shoes, because that's not all there is to life, but I do it with heart. I make sure that these news items tell you something of a story. I draw a red thread and see what comes out. And now I'm thinking that if there were a newsletter festival, I could legitimately aspire to the supreme award, namely the Golden Hyena. A prize I'd refuse, because the art of News cannot be measured. The art of the News cannot pit female editors against each other.
Each has her own style, syntax and phrasing. Why should I want to single people out when I know that if such an event existed, I'd glean every one of its prizes, every year. But that's not what this news is about. I was just saying that I wanted to get a head start on the RATP. In fact, coming back from the weekend is sometimes a bit tricky for me because I like to stay up late. Staying up late to read, watch a film, or simply because I had the good idea of buying a bottle of extra prosecco the night before.
And that's just what we were doing. After scouring the Parisian terraces, it might be too cool this weekend I came home wondering what I could do before going to bed. And that's when I heard the call for help, a tiny voice calling is calling me. After turning the apartment upside down, lifting the sofa, looking behind the kitchen cabinets, I finally realized that this little voice was coming from inside my refrigerator. I opened it to discover this gleaming bubble bottle. She looked at me with her round little eyes, imploring me to down it in one gulp. And I think you know me by now, I like to relieve when I can.
