Paris. A drizzly afternoon in February. I’m walking with my 13-year-old daughter behind a immature lady in glossy bullion trousers, black headband slung around her neck and a pointy black coat. Her nails and lips are damson-red.
This is Aloïs Guinut. She’s giving us an insider’s debate of a best conform haunts of a city. we found her online as we idly searched for impulse on what colour tights to wear with a celebration dress. Her blog – dresslikeaparisian.com – popped adult and we was immediately taken with her witty, correct and practical advice.
The some-more we read, a some-more we favourite her. She’d complicated conform during a Institut Français de la Mode and people ask her recommendation about a best shops, and what to buy – and now Aloïs works with tourists and locals who wish impulse or to be dressed from tip to toe.
My daughter Nancy has been to Paris usually once before, when she was 3 years old. She came down with chickenpox. For years, I’ve betrothed we’d lapse to see this city we love.
We would revisit a apparent sites: a Louvre, a Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame. But we know from my possess teenage years that sightseeing can usually be tolerated in brief bursts. And Nancy loves fashion.
I found a ideal engineer hotel, Hôtel du Petit Moulin. In a 17th-century former boulangerie, with a embellished potion facade, a hotel is so bijou we can frequency trust it has 17 bedrooms. The interiors are by Christian Lacroix – any room only a right side of kitsch.
We have a resting morning on a own, blood-sucking turn a Marais, stocking adult on Pierre Hermé macarons, erratic down a windy charity des Rosiers and peering in a windows of A-list designers.
Until a 12th century, a Marais was a marsh. Today, it’s a place for shopping, a boutiques and ateliers provision a inhabitants’ enterprise for elementary things finished beautifully. From large sequence stores (Sandro, Maje) to famous designers (Isabel Marant, John Galliano, Azzedine Alaïa) to a tiny shops and judgment stores, a area is manageable, a streets quaint. This is selling on a boutique scale with copiousness of pitstops for tea and cake.
It’s raining and I’ve dressed practically: Converse boots and a fight coupler over jeans. Nancy is in her favourite blue parka. Only when we accommodate Aloïs – and mark her bullion trousers – do we bewail my decision. Of course, this is Paris! Her thing is “dress like a Parisian”. Oops. Aloïs kindly says zero to pull courtesy to a somewhat shambolic look, yet we collect adult a certain froideur when Nancy falls in adore with some platformy high heels. Not utterly stylish enough, Aloïs hints: they are too round-toed, too clumpy. And “too English”: a French like crook shoes, reduce cut, some-more elegant, she explains. Nancy puts a shoe down, somewhat crestfallen.
We start a debate only turn a dilemma from a hotel in a Haut Marais, relocating during a sprightly pace.
First, we stop during L’Habilleur, a engineer bonus store. Aloïs creates a beeline for a cashmere scarves unresolved in a rainbow of colours – all about €60. The grey headband I’m wearing is too small, she says. A correct Parisian scarf, either for summer or winter, is oversized. She throws a purple one around Nancy’s neck and hangs it only so.
Round a corner, in Swildens, we try on a fanciful own-label black tuxedo fit that Aloïs urges me to buy. Parisians, she says, are penetrating on androgynous fashion.
Of a selected shops, we quite like Violette et Léonie, where we find a china sequinned coupler for €26 and a forest-green dusk bag in ideal condition by Revillon. Nancy picks adult a red beret. Aloïs approves, and shows her how to wear it in a correct French style, only to a side. Result!
We whizz past Hircus, a place for mid-price cashmere jumpers, and Vanessa Seward (beloved by Julie Delpy and Isabelle Huppert). Many of a shops batch garments in black – something of a Paris cliché, nonetheless Aloïs insists black is not ubiquitous. “Not all Parisians wear black,” she insists. “They adore neutrals like white, grey and navy blue and pointed shades.”
Towards a finish of a afternoon, Aloïs takes us to Soeur, a boutique combined by dual sisters for girls in that wily proviso between child and adulthood. The emporium is packaged with slim jeans, propitious jackets, Breton stripes, checked shirts and farmer blouses. And a good operation of T-shirts. Nearly all is half price. Aloïs tries to awaken Nancy into a span of bullion shorts, creation certain she tucks a T-shirt in. “A lovable demeanour for a summer,” announces Aloïs. But during this indicate my daughter rebels, muttering darkly to me in a changing room. The Paris demeanour is too neat, too deliberate for this sold London girl, keener on a baggier style. We batch adult on trademark T-shirts instead.
But we finish happily, visiting what turns out to be a favourite place: Merci, a outrageous fair-trade judgment store that sells all from homewear to fashion. We spend ages here. The place is gorgeous, embellished in cherry blossom. Nancy picks adult proxy flower tattoos and we buy a Liberty-print wristband (a clip during €7). After shopping, we settle down in a cosy book-lined café and fill on prohibited chocolate and flourless chocolate cake.
As it turns out, we spent really tiny money, returning on Eurostar with my selected jacket, some T-shirts and a few fun trinkets. But we had an extraordinary time, with an discernment into how Parisians shop, and some poetic mother-daughter bonding.
Way to go
Aloïs Guinut’s conform debate of a Marais is €100 for dual hours. Personal styling and selling is €160 for dual hours. For some-more details, go to dresslikeaparisian.com. Travel from London St Pancras to Paris on Eurostar, fares from £29 any way. Hotel du Petit Moulin has double bedrooms from €205 a night by Small Luxury Hotels of a World, formed on dual sharing