Ecsta - Metallic Champagne
Chelsea Boots 2 cm heel
THE TRUE STORY OF THE ECSTA
The Peach is the Travolta's little sister. It was born after the Travolta, with the aim of offering you a heel with less height and more surface area. The Peach peaks at a reasonable 7 centimetres. That's where the real fun begins.
The Peach was born the day I went to the cinema to see a double program in the Pigalle area. Films starring Sonny Chiba. The hero my father was so crazy about. He'd watch all his films on VHS to draw inspiration from his fighting techniques.
Sometimes, I'd serve as a punching bag to help him perfect his game, and thanks to my patience, he was able to progress and win a few tournaments in the provinces.
This tough childhood enabled me to stand up for myself on the playground. It has to be said that in middle school, because I had grown up faster than the others, I was something of a phenomenon. This special status made the others want to fight me. But thanks to my parries, my art of the sweep and the ground tackle, I had become a terror while secretly dreaming of cuddling them. Which, in a way, I did, because instead of going to the nurse's office, I bandaged them myself, or reattached their scalps with a sewing needle and the threads of my jeans.
Anyway, that day, I wanted to see my childhood hero again. I'd put on my heavy leopard faux fur jacket, because it was freezing cold, which I didn't take off once I was seated in an incredibly empty room. Standing alone in front of me was a guy with a nice little lock of hair and a leather suit jacket, who laughed loudly every time someone spoke or got a lath in the face.
At first, it annoyed me, but I soon realized that he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart, and after a while I found it very communicative, so I approached him and offered to share my big tub of Haribo sweets. In exchange, he offered me some cigarettes, which we lit up in a flurry.
It was nice to see a kung-fu movie as if it were a Claude Zidi comedy. I'd never thought about it before.
When the second film ended, I suggested to the little guy that we go for a pint, or two. He agreed. The little guy was a record salesman at Porte des Lilas. He didn't earn much, but he loved his job and his boss, who gave him free rein and the use of the upstairs storeroom, part of which he'd set up with a cot to sleep on. His name was Lolo, but everyone called him the Lol because he was always having a laugh. I could only agree with them.
He suggested we go for a longburger at FreeTime and listen to some vinyl in his store. I had nothing better to do, and even if it looked like a made-up trap, I still preferred it to falling asleep like a wreck with a joint in front of a TF1 TV show.
After showing me the boutique's latest purchases, he invited me onto the building's roof terrace with a pitcher of mulled wine. It was filthy, but warming in these freezing days.
When we weren't at the store, we spent our time in local movie theaters looking for Sonny Chiba rarities before agreeing that our lives weren't to be enjoyed in such a small space. And The Lol wanted to see a film by the great champion on site.
So, we scraped the bottom of our drawers in search of every last yen that would get us to Tokyo, and thanks to our combined efforts, plus my sales of albums that had fallen off the back of the truck, we scraped together the sum we needed to take off and head east.
