I’ll always have Paris

On Thursday, I left Paris without having eaten a single croissant. I attended the launch of Lexmond versus Lexmond and had to rush back to Hilversum the next morning to talk about it on Boulevard. I thought to myself that this wouldn't happen again.

But on the morning of departure, a message popped up from Boulevard's editor-in-chief Jorien. She asked if I wanted to say something about the Oscar dresses in the broadcast. Too tempting because, fashion-wise, handing out the golden little men is of course a nice party. Thanks to our travel book king Andries van de Moorselaar, another ticket was arranged quickly. The hotel couldn't be canceled, but my invitation for the CHANEL show was kept. This made Hotel Crystal the most expensive mailbox ever, but that's beside the point. Everything for fashion and everything for the broadcast.

I got up at 04:45 on Tuesday to get my outfit and hair ready. I chose a casual pair of jeans that I mixed with a jacket from Vuitton and a fun fur from Paul&Joe. Of course, CHANEL was part of my ‘oeuvre’ for the festive occasion. CHANEL shoes? Check. CHANEL bag? Check. CHANEL bracelet? Check. I could go on regarding earrings, a silk scarf that served as a belt, perfume, and necklace. And I haven't even mentioned the contents of my makeup yet. You get the message. I love CHANEL.

Via a wild journey of plane, RER, and metro, I walked along the Seine to King Karl's palace. I've seen quite a few shows and saw the recreated Rue Cambon, models landing on a sort of moon landscape, a wind farm, a globe so large that it barely seemed to fit in the Grand Palais, an art gallery, and so on. This time, Karl had transformed the Grand Palais into a supermarket. Yes, you read that right. A supermarket. Rarely have I seen so many excellently dressed people gathered among the laundry detergent. Everything was recreated and cast in Coco Chanel packaging. It was a playground for adults. There were carts and baskets, there was choco de Coco and tweed lemonade, and the seaters wore fabric coats that I instantly wanted to snatch off their bodies. Because of the coat, not because of the boys, you understand.

I saw Cara Delevingne open the show. Kendall Jenner proudly walked by, Saskia de Brauw who secretly had the flu but was still stunningly beautiful, and all the other model beauties that this earth offers us. The hair was a delightful rastafarian braid with strips of fabric and feathers attached to an elegant tight ponytail. I saw the classic CHANEL silhouette and funky sneakers and leggings. The art theme seemed to continue a bit in a number of creations. So with that purchase, you're also set for this winter. I fell in love with Cara when she accompanied Karl during his honorary round. With inspiration to the moon, I left the building.

At the residence of the Dutch ambassador, I was received like an old friend. Today, the stage was given to Mattijs van Bergen. I had already seen his Van Gogh-inspired collection during Mercedes Benz Fashion Week Amsterdam, but I was happy to see it again. Mattijs's designs are particularly beautiful and contemporary, and he is a king in styling. The knotted sweaters and the jewelry made by his mother complete the look.

After this visit, it was already two o'clock, and I hadn't eaten anything that day. Except for a glass of grapefruit juice and a glass of champagne at the residence. I quickly dove into the terrace of café de Flore for a French variant of Melanzane alla Parmigiana. With my laptop on my lap and my phone in hand, I suddenly saw Grace. Gráce. GRACE. I thought she was sick. Or gone. But she was here. In Paris. Next to colleague Tonne Goodman, waiting for their driver. I could have touched her. But it remained a cowardly photo from a distance. And then? Then it was suddenly time to dive into the metro towards Gare du Nord.

Again, no macarons bought. But well, we have those in the Netherlands too. And.. I will always have Paris.