Shoe Scene

I've been tracking which shoes I like to wear, and I've come to the conclusion that the majority of the time I like ballet flats. They're basically my favorite thing. So I figured hey, why not buy a pair that costs more than $20? Vogue wrote a rave review of Repetto, which I've been against since they put their shoes in a bin, but I thought maybe I could get past this and go try on a pair at the store. The display in the window is gorgeous, replete with tutus and diamonds. The 14-year-old inside of me was thrilled. I tried on a pair that I really liked for the low, low price of $210. What a bargain! I went to Galleries Lafayette to see if I could get them for less, and they were exactly the same price. However, Bloch is now making ballet flats also. Bloch, for me, evokes memories of leather wingtip tap shoes and jazz boots. At Ballet Arts, we weren't allowed to wear their pointe shoes because the shank wasn't hard enough (read: they weren't painful enough). As L pointed out, they definitely know how to make shoes. Their ballet flats have a split heel, and a cushion on the heel for comfort. The salesgirl was telling me that they're replacing Repetto in London as the new hip ballet flat. At $120 in the US and $150 in France, they are a (relative) bargain. I may be a little too stingy for this, but it is giving me pause for thought, anyway. Moreover, it seems like a brilliant move to expand a dance shoe company to do street shoes as well. It has to be easier to make regular shoes, right? Plus you already have a customer base. Hmm...

Speaking of expanding into the shoe business, some of the new Adidas are using the Goodyear tire material. This reminds me of a story my grandpa tells about some kid blowing their money on a pair of shoes that didn't fit, and then having to repair the hole that was born in one of them with the remains of some tires. Who knew that it would be cool someday?

The leather on the black heels that I bought on sale marked down from the $100 range are obviously kind of crappy, as there is already a hole in the leather and I haven't worn them more then around my room. I hate French prices.

In other news, I got a "yes" from VV (name edited), the marketing firm. Apparently I got this "yes" four days ago in rapid French. I wonder if they would take it back if they knew that I didn't know what they were saying. I'm waiting on a response from a more impressive one, but if they don't take then I'm going for the former. Either way, I'm definitely working for a marketing firm, which is really cool because I don't have to be a brand slave. Hurrah! Liberty!

And now I have to go write a paper about American Liberalism in order to create the appearance that I read a whole book, not just the first three out of nine chapters. I think the best way to do this is to find quotes near the middle and end and make sure I work them in. After that I'm done with school and can pack for Berlin tomorrow!

Yes, I am aware that my English is getting progressively worse.

The Hard Sell

I went to Etam yesterday, which is basically just a middle-class chain store that sells t-shirts, lingerie, etc. They are obviously trying some American sales tactics handed down from upper management right now. In the States I think we're used to the rhetoric of optimism, like "it takes three 'no's to get a 'yes'!" (By the way, this is literally a rule at Victoria's Secret. You have to hear 'no' three times when selling the credit card before you're allowed to stop asking). Normally, these selling suggestions are taken with a grain of salt. It's understood, like "nothing's impossible", that you only have to be half-serious about it. These strategies, however, aren't ingrained in French culture like they are in our own. So when I went came out of the fitting rooms after trying on a t-shirt that didn't fit, the salesgirl started an argument with me concerning what I wanted from a t-shirt. Literally, we argued. It was crazy. It started out as a series of questions like "what don't you like about the product?" and showing me other t-shirts, which was such a practiced sales technique for such a socially inept girl that there's no way she came up with it by herself. This quickly degenerated into her raising her voice at me telling saying that the neckline is what I'm looking for, and me yelling back that it wasn't wide enough. The cash register girl decided to use flattery instead of intimidation. She practiced her "suggestive selling" by saying that the shirt that I found would look good with a necklace. "I know you like necklaces because you're wearing one!" When I said no, she kept sucking up to me. "I think you might have just the littlest bit of an accent, are you, possibly, not French?" Fuck off. I know I have the biggest accent ever. Seriously. Anyway, it was pretty unsettling to have such an American experience in a French store.

In job news, I've had two more interviews and another tomorrow. The first one was with Martin Margiela, who is known as the "JD Salinger of fashion" for being...not known. He refuses to speak to the press and doesn't come out after his shows. My job would be to talk to the English-speaking press for him. This is a big one, and paid. But I haven't heard back yet. The second one was with a guy who runs his own marketing firm; I'd be the right-hand girl. It's much less prestigious, but could be more learning. Tomorrow I'm going in for another interview with a bigger marketing firm.

I'm very tired of job interviews. And writing. I'm ready for vacation. Will write more once it commences.

Tu Speak Franglais?

I was in the elevator with this guy today who was singing a song, and then he stopped and said "Je sing". I thought that this was a cute little mix of English and French, so I giggled a little. Then I looked down and noticed that his knees and hands were bloody. He actually said "Je sang", which means "I'm bleeding". Whoa.

I'm eating a whole chicken by myself that I bought for $7.50 USD. It's really medieval-looking since I don't really have any plates or knives or anything. But what a bargain! So far it's lasted me two meals, and I've barely even begun.

Reading a book about the history of the word liberalism would be boring in any language, but at least it would go faster in English. I'm in the middle of Chapter 2, and only got through Chapter 1 after bribing myself with naps, chocolate, and hummus. At the end of Chapter 2, I get a Snickers bar! On the plus side, I finished my paper. Early. This is the first time that this has happened to me since maybe high school, but possibly middle school or never.

On a scarier note, an American girl was violently raped in our dorm last night. Another girl in my program heard her being thrown against the wall and screaming for help. Part of me wants to go buy pepper spray, but another part wants to go for a gun. But this probably isn't legal in France.

Procrastination

Having a Paper Due on Monday Inspires Me To:
-Sweep my floor
-Organize my papers
-File my nails
-Write emails
-Re-fold my clothes
-Write poetry
-Make dance mixes
-Dance to dance mixes
-Study grammar
-Grocery shop

What is missing from this list?

Frigo

I got a fridge! It was the best possible situation. I put up a little poster ("Do you have a fridge? I want it! Contact Marina. Price Negotiable.") The copy isn't winning any awards, but it was on purple paper, which was a nice touch. The poster prompted this man in my foyer who is in love with me to get his friend to give me his fridge for free. The friend just came by and asked, "Do you want a fridge?" I said yes, but then he walked away, so I didn't think much of it. Then at 2:30 AM I heard something being dragged down the hall, followed by heavy knocking on my door. It was...the refrigerator! Hurray!

Hot Pockets!

I bought Hot Pockets today. They were delicious. I also made up a French jingle for them, but I can't really express how it goes in words.

Broken Social Scene is coming to Paris, and I was kind of excited so I started listening to all of their songs on shuffle. Then I realized that I might now even like them that much. I think I might just like it when they sample that guy yelling "it was my town!" This was a disconcerting realization. I'm going to keep trying though, maybe I'll change back and like them again.

I'm going to Barcelona tomorrow! I've been looking at websites, and it looks like there's nothing to do except drink and eat. Which is kind of exactly all I want to do right now, anyway.

I think people are being more responsive to me in the dorm recently. Probably because I don't get a look of terror in my eyes when people speak French anymore. Another girl in my program A was telling me she had a point recently where she completely came to peace with her culture shock. I don't think that I've had a single moment, but maybe I'm easing in.

Bienvenue!

I came home to my dorm room today and found a note taped to my door handle. On it there was an anthropomorphized cartoon condom smiling with arms outstretched (as if to suggest it wanted a hug). Above the condom was the word "Bienvenue" with a heart between the "Bien" and the "venue". The goal of this note was to try to get me to go to an event for the welcoming of new residents/AIDS awareness. I like these two things, but rolling it all into one event strikes me as lazy if not suspicious. What kind of welcome do these people have in mind? I had every intention of abstaining from this event, but the only place the wifi works is the room in which it was held. I huddled in the corner throughout the beginning, which consisted of a video game where you operate a condom swimming in a sea with eggs and AIDS, and some B music videos with guys singing soulfully about AIDS. I did not feel welcomed, nor did I learn anything about AIDS. It was funny that they put AIDS and children in the same group for the video game, though.

I did a presentation today that went over really badly. Like, really badly. But one of the things I learned while preparing for it was that the symbol for the socialist party here is a hand holding a rose in old-timey style. It looks uncannily like the part in Beauty and the Beast where the old woman is holding the rose (in the stained glass intro). Which is set in France. Here comes the deconstruction: the old lady represents socialism, when the beast (a right winger) refuses to recognize the beauty of charity he is forced to live as an unfortunate person/animal. The rose (socialism) can save him only if he learns how to be self-sufficient. Thus, socialism is not a hand-out, but a hand-up. Once he finally learns self-sufficiency/falls in love, he is free of dependency on the rose. Socialism saved him only because he saved himself. Ugh, I'm making myself nauseous.

I have an idea for a blog called "deconstruction". The tag line is "sucking fun out of life like Dracula sucked blood out of Lucy (BLOOD symbolizes SEXUAL INNOCENCE)". Basically it would just be about the deconstructions of things that people are coming up with all the time. I'm not really going to do this one, so feel free to steal the awesome idea.