The Fixer Upper

Musings of the Mind, Typecasting · Paris · by Marina Khorosh

A couple of weeks ago, I met a guy. Upon first glance, all the boxes appeared to check off: tall, cute, educated, gainfully self-employed, good family values, upper intermediate English (a coup in France). Our chemistry wasn’t suffering, and we worked in the same industry, always giving us something interesting to talk about. Considering my usual luck, or lack thereof, pas mal.

However, as we got to know each other, the issues began to emerge. Despite his conventional upbringing, he appeared to have a very low understanding of chivalry, was still mildly obsessed with his ex, and generally presented himself as a bit of a sloppy mess. On one night, my friend and I found him around the corner from the neighboring La Perle, looking distraught. It almost seemed like he had been crying! Blinking away the tears, he refused to divulge the source of his troubles. Ten minutes later, we saw him back at the bar, blissfully flirting with two blondes, his problems seemingly forgotten. He then proceeded to follow us to another bar, where he alternated between a pensive and a bored pout, speaking only when spoken to.

Street Style From the Eyes of an (Allegedly) Straight Male

Typecasting · by Marina Khorosh

Editor’s Note: The idea for this post came to me the other day while standing in line for the Elie Saab show, watching a gaggle of people, mildly resembling insane asylum escapees, practically performing circus routines in an effort to catch the attention of street style photographers. Suddenly, a refreshingly straight male appeared à la Prince Charming, handing me my show invitation, passed along by a very generous friend. Looking around the normally serene Tuileries gardens, he turned to me and muttered something hilarious and British that was quickly left forgotten. However, the main message was clear: what was mind-bogglingly cool to the fashion set was simply mind-boggling to normal straight males.

While I did not recruit the Brit for this endeavor, I did manage to solicit the commentary of a very entertaining male French friend, who, despite knowing way too much about fashion, still remains sexually attracted to the opposite sex. Without further ado, here is his take on some of the more “unique” street style looks of the fashion month.

The Secret Art of French-Girl Lingerie

DD x Vogue · by Marina Khorosh

Once upon a long time ago, my best friend met her Parisian future husband at Pastis in New York City. One week later, he presented her with her first gift: a set of Agent Provocateur lingerie, accompanied by a bouquet of roses and a bottle of champagne.

How To Talk Dirty Like a Parisian (Wherever You Are)

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

Two months after I first arrived in Paris, I ended up at the Oberkampf apartment of a boy who deemed it romantic to feed me frozen carrots en lieu of dinner. Sometime in the midst of our post-veggie make-out session, he suddenly paused, looked me straight in the eye, and whispered seductively: “Je te désire.”

At that moment, I had to do everything in my power to hold in the snort that was threatening to explode frozen carrots and cheap wine all over his pleather couch. For some reason, the sound of a French man trying to talk sexy to me was possibly one of the funniest bedroom encounters of my life (second only to the time I could not locate my skirt at some hipster’s house and had to go to the office in tights and a trench coat.)

How to Get Through a Breakup (Lessons from The Loony Bin)

Typecasting · Paris · by Marina Khorosh

I have no clue what kind of tricks God and Susan Miller are playing on us, but lately I feel as if the whole world has lost its mind. Since I live in a current event-free bubble that floats somewhere between Style.com and my Instagram feed, by “whole world” I mean my friends. Ever since last Sunday, I have been bearing witness to some sort of mass heartbreak limbo, which entails all my friends getting dumped and then blowing it WAY out of proportion by engaging in ridiculous behavior. At this point, I feel like I’m operating a boutique mental institute, checking in on their status at least 3 times a day and keeping them all under the same roof, with one administered chaperone present. Luckily, my patients make for some really interesting case studies, which will make for even more interesting content for you guys! And so, without further ado…

Things I Miss (and Don’t Miss) About New York Men

Typecasting · New York · by Marina Khorosh

Yes, I realize that this is a redundant topic and that this blog is in danger of becoming a Travelocity guide for single promiscuous globetrotters. You will have to bear with me on this one, as I recently returned from New York and am currently experiencing serious withdrawals, causing me to tear up during Project Runway zoom-ins of the Manhattan skyline. I suppose that deciphering the city’s male inhabitants is my attempt to feel closer in spirit.

Going back to New York, I occasionally question what it is that made me move to Paris in the first place. Suddenly, I’m in a legitimate first world city, with excellent customer service and people who don’t consider complaining to be a national sport! Fueled by super foods and Soul Cycle, my energy levels rise to turbo-speed, and I begin accomplishing more in one day than I do in weeks in Paris. The men, who suddenly come in all shapes and colors and sizes, provide a refreshing contrast to the monotonous Frenchies, in both their attitude and demeanor.

However, a few days into it, my acai-kale-hemp-fueled-high (what exactly is hemp, anyway?) begins to lift and I start seeing things from a slightly more sober perspective. Perhaps, the green juice really is always greener on the other side. Lets take a look.