When my husband and I were in the early years of our courtship, he took me to Paris; I wore a red coat, a turquoise beret and, after a Spanish student asked me in broken French how to find the youth hostel, I walked on air for about a week, nudging my husband and telling him for the umpteenth time 'she thought I was French you know'...
We took Ovi to France for the first time this summer - my husband hoping to claim some down-time to read a book, play the guitar and swim and me with the vague but sincere idea that two weeks in Nerac, at this highly important stage of child-development, would ensure that my baby would become bilingual. Since he hasn't actually started speaking at all yet, I may yet be proved to be right on this front. I'm certain he was taking it all in.
I have always been a genuine admirer of All Things French. I'm the woman who buys olive oil in Carrefour so that I can have a bottle with French writing on it to sit in the kitchen at home. I am dedicated to decanting supermarket own-brand soap into a beautiful French bottle we picked up a couple of holidays ago; cheap soap never smells so Provencal as when it stands proudly sink-side in a bottle marked 'Savon'.
This is why one of the first collections we created at Ovi and Reu, when we started exploring the idea of aspirational living, was The Parisian Collection. Of course (it goes without saying) that there are many aspects of motherhood that aren't, shouldn't and couldn't be glamorous and Parisienne - but that has never stopped me from trying to inject a little je ne sais quoi into my life that nods to my inner 'Maman'.
Sure, my bra is currently more 'utility' than 'lingerie' and my hair is more 'thrown-up' (heck, it's actually thrown up on...) than 'coiffure' but if I put some red lipstick on and pour myself a (decaff) coffee before Soft Play and Swim this morning then I swear I can almost smell the Champs Elysees.
Shop The Parisian Collection here.