While I'm eating my salmon sandwich that tastes like an attic, I'm not forgetting you, because you're the sunshine of my life (and now you're humming Cofidis in your head, remembering that it was Sacha Distel who covered Stevie Wonder).
Despite the infernal pace I've fallen victim to (fashion), I haven't forgotten to keep you as close as possible to me and bring you Tuesday's good deals. And what are they? They're simple but generous, because that's what the world needs these days - unfailing generosity.
That's why, for the third newsletter in a row, I'm offering you my creations on sale. I know it sounds crazy, but every now and then I do something crazy to feel free and alive. So make the most of this banquet of good taste and don't hesitate to indulge yourself.
What else happened on January 18th? Well, twenty-two years ago Helmut Kohl, the German Chancellor of the last century, resigned from his party. Who cares, you ask? Of course not, but I like Helmut for this photo. It may be highly symbolic and steeped in history, but I find it ridiculous. It's certainly a problem of scale.
In 2005, the Airbus A380 was presented in Toulouse. 254 were built, but production was halted at the end of 2021 because there were no takers. You know, the A380 is this very large aircraft capable of taking entire cities into the sky. So why have airlines stopped buying them? Are we facing a problem of air travel fat-phobia? All these questions deserve to be put on the table, because if you want to know everything, I have my own little story about a flight from Paris to Miami.
I don't particularly like this Florida city other than for its series Miami Vice and for being the setting for Scarface. So I was going to follow in the footsteps of these two monuments, scouting out places and getting inspiration for my future collections. And then, as I was watching Legally Blonde on my screen, I was served an unrequested glass of champagne by a steward.
Of course I downed it straight before asking him for another and thanking him. He tells me it's normal, Patricia Blanchet doesn't have to thank me. Stunned, I looked at him to see if I knew him. And indeed I did. Thierry, an ex-classmate, a tall West Indian, nearly two metres tall, former basketball star, now working for Air France. I was so happy to see him after fifteen years of not hearing from him. Especially as I'd had a big crush on him.
But apparently his had been even bigger. Why didn't we declare ourselves at the time? Shyness. It would have been so much simpler then, as we were now married. But Thierry knew how to convince me and he took me to the luggage hold where, thanks also to the champagne, I was able to let myself go. Luckily he was kind enough to put me down on a Rimowa. Thank you Thierry, and too bad if my husband reads this newsletter, but the secret was too heavy and above all too beautiful, it had to live its life.