You gotta admit : ain’t no weekend bags cuter than this one. I don’t only wear pretty clothes, I also need the dinkiest tote to transport them. I guess that’s just who I am, the soul of a child trapped in the body of a teenage boy (thank god I lost my braces years ago). Otherwise that would just look sad.

Anyway, here I am, proudly carrying my Peter Pan syndrom behind the train station. Oh that’s right, this happened in the French country, two weeks ago. No need to be surprised, mama needs her fresh air once in a while to get back on track.

When my friend Marie told me we were going to her country house for her little sister’s birthday, Teddy and I couldn’t be happier. As living in the city can be quite hard sometimes (you know the drill), taking the train for a two-hour travel to go to the meadows seemed like a free spa session highly needed to survive the long and tremendous parisian winter. Nah it’s not cold in here (so much pollution the temperature cannot go below 9 degrees anyway), but it’s just sad sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I love living in Paris, taking the subway every day to smell people’s fragrance so close to me and opening my window to breathe cars’gas and diesel (not the perfume but I can’t decide which is worst). But it’s relieving to see other stuff sometimes. Yes, we have all the major businesses going on, the top restaurants, the best fashion stores bla bla bla, but we’re missing some oxygen around here. And the stress you can feel along the ambient sweating won’t prove you wrong.

Unfortunately, that’s definitely something provincials love to remind you once they get to meet you. I see you behind your screen, nodding to my last sentence. You’ve already lived those akward moments, haven’t you ? When you faked those smiles and pretended to laugh at those terrible jokes about how expensive life is in Paris, how bitchy parisians are and how you can get a villa in smaller cities for the same price range as a 25 m2 in Paris. The worst thing is, nothing’s wrong about these affirmations. And when I fronted the reality face to the village, I went speechless. In life, they say the grass is always greener on the other pasture. On that peaceful morning far away from the city, while opening the window with a full view on nothing else but cows and trees, I couldn’t help but wonder : how could I feel so empty in my city so full ? As I’m a complete city gurl who can’t live without her nicotine and uber, how could I possibly question my will to stay in Paris after just a day in the country side ? Was I truly brainwashed by those wide spaces and singing birds ? But when the roosters started yelling that morning, reality hit me. I wasn’t unhappy because of my situation. I was just surrounded by jealous people who couldn’t resist bragging about their life and putting down what they didn’t have. And believe it or not, it is true. If you were so sure about something, why would you feel the need to tell all about it ? Psychology bitch mode activated people, watch out.

The funny thing is we saw cows during that weekend but couldn’t approach them. Seems like Parisians aren’t the only obnoxious and pretentious sluts after all. But sadly, they’re not the only ones we couldn’t see : Romane (a.k.a Marie’s little sister) got sick. How terrible is that, all her friends and family were there for her birthday. Hello, even Dibald’ came to see her blow her 20 candles (the only thing she blew that night I swear). But still, she managed to wake up and make an entrance to open her gift (sick but not stupid that little…). You could see her happiness reflect in the silver lining of her new leather bag. That was the only 10 minutes we got from her. Ironically, she recovered by the next day. Was it some shady strategy to avoid the painful birthday moments ? Who knows, but the only thing sure about this party, is that her gift came from Paris, the evil city subject to all mockery during that weekend. And those villagers are damn sure they would have never made her smile like that with a present made of cow’s diarrhea and fresh eggs (but it might be original though). So why can’t they act like Romane and appreciate both the city and the country side ? I mean look, she may love cows but she can still enjoy a designer bag made from their skins.

On our way back home, I was surprisingly enthusiastic. This weekend was great, but it made me realize the city I live in is was even greater. And I can tell you I was even more ready to face all the pros and cons of Paris after resting in such a different place. Sure, we don’t have fresh air and stuff, but other things that have made me happy since 1994. And this does not mean I cannot enjoy less crowded and more natural scenes either. So always be thankful for what you have. Cos’ somebody will always envy you no matter their situation. And if you ever cross the path of this kind of haters, just moo them. Moooooooooooh.