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.

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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…

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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. 

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The other day, my happily married friend sent me a picture of her adorable 6-month old baby. In a moment of hormonal weakness (tainted by being yelled at in French three consecutive times), I wrote back “I want one toooo!” This was an outburst I immediately came to regret, as the remainder of the conversation went somewhat like this:

Married Friend: “So do it! Get it done!”

(Cause its just that easy..) 

Me: “How?!”

MF: “Stop fucking around. Stop tindering losers.”

Me: “Ok. Give me a game plan.”

MF: “1. Move 2. Stop it with the artsy fartsy boho losers. 3. Learn how to cook. 4. Stop going out with losers!!!!!!! Stop hanging out with them stop being seen with them. This is the most vital step. It cannot be repeated enough – 2 and 4 are key.”

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