I'm sure you're dreaming of me telling you the story of the Higgins.
Last September, I woke up in the middle of the night, flooded, as if the giant aquarium in my bedroom, home to a family of piranhas, had broken and spilled onto my bed. However, I soon realized that I was in the middle of a wet dream.
When we opened our shop on rue Beaurepaire nearly seven years ago, we didn't have a penny to our name, and in fact it was I who finished the renovations./p>
Alone in the middle of the parking lot, in my future husband's white corvette with red leather interior, I called out for some kind soul to come and administer first aid. I could still hear a vague rattle emanating from his mouth. Seeing that no one was coming, I began to give him improvised mouth-to-mouth on his chapped lips.
When we receive our beautiful little shoes, they arrive in boxes, very large boxes which, once emptied, are of little use to us and even become cumbersome.
A shoe is always a story connected to a feeling, a moment in my life, a work, a song, a film, a person. I have to connect all the dots in a drawing in order to make progress and let a figure appear, and that's absolutely essential because that's how I weave my life together.
It's back-to-school, damn it. Damn, because when you have to get ready to put your hands, feet, neck and whole body into a new year, you have to be prepared or, on the contrary, completely relaxed to stand up and face an opponent that may seem out of proportion.
At some point in our lives, we all come across a work of art. A record, a film, a band, a painting, a book, an author. It can be instantaneous, it can take time, it can be dazzling or insidious.
Like every season, the whole of Paris waits impatiently for Patricia Blanchet's new collections. And instead of putting themselves under insurmountable pressure, the Team takes the opportunity each time to surprise everyone by bringing out models that are each more stunning than the last. But it's the names that Team Blanchet give them that always arouse curiosity. Let's meet the finest team since the Dream Team.
Exactly 80 years ago, seventeen-year-old Marcel Ravidat, an apprentice mechanic, discovered the entrance to the Lascaux cave thanks to his dog chasing a rabbit.
I'm told I was granted a trial. But it must have been a speedy one, because when it took place, I was still in a deep coma caused by the police officer's rifle butt, which melted over me like margarine in the Sahara sun.