Shopping for Vintage Fashion Like a French Girl

DD x Vogue · Paris · by Marina Khorosh

Back before globalization (and the Internet) made it possible for the Saint Laurent bag du jour and the latest Chanel quelque-chose to become available worldwide, all of the best things in the French fashion world were concentrated in their place of origin: Paris. And even today, there are still some things that you just can’t find online—like the contents of many Parisian closets, which double as sartorial goldmines and are only emptied for the most in-the-know boutiques in Paris. If you don’t happen to have a French fairy godmother offering up her most prized possessions, your next best bet are some of the most trusted names on the Parisian vintage circuit—find them here.

The Weekly Agenda of Being Single

Those Who Can't Do, Teach · New York · by Marina Khorosh

“The only day I ever wanted a girlfriend was on Sunday,” a friend informed me yesterday, staring at his girlfriend of two years with a content look on his face. It was, indeed, a Sunday. The couch across from me was overspilling with canoodling couples, enjoying their blissful afternoon of using each other as human pillows. My single tush was parked on the floor, nurturing her struggles with a macadamia chocolate chip cookie.

This was not the first time I had heard the Sunday Theory, in which the holy day of R&R seems to incite the basic need for companionship in even the most stone-hearted of individuals. But where does this leave the rest of the days of the week? Let’s take a look at the internal day-to-day monologue of being single, as derived from abundant personal experience!

The Fashion Boyfriend

Typecasting · New York · by Marina Khorosh

Fashion Boyfriends, i.e. men dating or married to women in the fashion industry, are like modern-day Army Wives. They stand by their significant others, watching them spend more on furry Gucci slippers than most human beings spend on rent without budging an inch. (Some even bravely pull out their credit cards, although I’m not even advocating that – your vices should be your own financial responsibility!) They listen to conversations that occasionally sound like record players jammed on the word “amazing” without convulsing in pain. They are silent heroes and must be saluted with the same levels of respect. Here’s how to tell them apart.

Bleu Crush

I Know How To Pick'Em, Misery Loves Company · Paris · by Jordan Nadler

Editor’s Note: This story is brought to you by Jordan Nadler (@Nadleresque), the wunderkind behind French Medicine. Today, Jordan loses her douchebag storytelling virginity, proving, once and for all, that she has a true calling in life. Enjoy.

Fact: Going surfing with a French male model is a TERRIBLE idea if you are aggressively bad at surfing and haven’t mastered the “sexy drown.”

Once Upon A Time I was sleeping with a male model I met on Tinder this summer because I sporadically pepper my life with unfortunate decisions. His profession would be completely irrelevant if it wasn’t for the fact that his face was everywhere when we met. After the clusterfuck that was our last week together, I couldn’t even walk into a pharmacy to buy a tube of toothpaste without seeing his squinty-eyed mug selling moderately luxurious shaving cream. It was like God’s way of physicalizing the fact that my questionable choices in men do, in fact, haunt me.

The Art of Dating: Paris vs. New York

Typecasting · Paris · by Marina Khorosh

When it comes to dating, Paris and New York are like two famous men: both come with reputations that precede them. On one side of the Atlantic we have have the elitist Frenchmen, self-proclaimed ardent lovers who, paradoxically, reject the entire concept of “dating” as a restricting endeavor where romance goes to die. On the other side, we have the epicenter of neurotic overachievers who tend to overexert themselves in every department, dating included. Both cities are, at times, cultural parodies of their respective selves, and yet they are not without charm. Without further ado, let’s tally up some basic lessons on dating à la française vs. à la New Yorkaise.

TBT: The Story of Luigi, the Roman Dbag

I Know How To Pick'Em · Rome · by Marina Khorosh

Sometimes, I find that my dating history can best be compared to the archives of an old French couture house like Dior – the minute you think you’re flat out of inspiration, there it is, the forgotten ‘pass partout’ suit or the show-stopping jungle dress! (Isn’t it great that all my fancy fashion education is paying off?!) Sticking to the analogy, this story can be best compared to a denim saddle bag from the Galliano days: tacky and cliché, but fun nonetheless!

It was my first year in France and I was on a school trip to Milan with two girlfriends, one of whom happened to be a little French firecracker a few years my junior. After four days of “studying” at Bocconi University, we headed over over to Florence and Rome, a foreign-student-bucket-list of a trip that was just calling for a team of sleazy Italianos. After a quick Facebook shout-out, a friend’s friend of a friend hooked me up with the exact object of my desire, a guy we will Luigi.