December Rain

 Despite the torrential downpour, I couldn’t bear to wear rain boots today. They are heavy and make my leg circumference look smaller than it already is. Kind of the reason why I don’t like UGGS. Yes, I understand that UGGS are comfy and people think they are cute, but they are not sexy—and when you are starting off your day at a lunch with a bunch of classic French men, one of whom is Chef Daniel Boulud, you wear heels—and you wear stockings, preferably with the crease up the back. And you wear nice lingerie even though he will never see it…just because he is THAT French that you know he will just be able to tell.

I’m not saying that you always have to look sexy in life, but you do have to show that you take care of yourself. And quite frankly with the French, you have to be aesthetically pleasing. The fact that you are an American already puts you at a disadvantage; you have to win them back by wearing Chanel and drinking a lot of wine at lunch and acting like it’s having absolutely no affect on you.

So it’s not that I mind that my feet get wet, it’s that I forgot that New York is not actually all that flat, and when it comes to crossing the streets those curbs and gutters get pretty deep with water on a day like today. Don’t worry, I didn’t allow my skin to touch the actual run off, but I did have to walk many blocks out of the way to find a street that was elevated enough to cross so that by red shoes (in honor of World AIDS Day) didn't get wet—all while narrowly missing the cars trying to splash me on Park Avenue. I could have sat with Daniel all day long…he actually said very matter of factly to me, “I am the best French chef in America.” I agreed, naturally…as the waiter poured me more water and wine.