I love little old ladies in France, especially on Sundays. I love seeing two of them, arms linked, slowly walking down the boulevard in their best fur coats, maybe with an old-fashioned hat, some shopping bags, or a dog. These ladies are, for lack of a better phrase, bad ass. They may be 90, but they have full make-up on, hair done, and their lipstick is impeccable. And they are here to seize the effing day:
|Sex in the City meets Golden Girls|
And check out the heels that some of these women are rocking. Not bad. Which brings me to the latest old lady who I saw in Montpellier recently:
There she was, tottering along on her orthopedic wedge heels, better dressed than many 20-something fashion majors aux Etats-Unis. I was very tempted to ask her about the secret to fashion longevity which French women have seemingly tapped into, but I figured, I already took a sneaky, stalker-y picture of her. I might as well leave her alone. So the world may never know.