frenchies

I think most middle class girls go through a phase of francophilia. The condition goes hand in hand with a poor grasp of conversational French, and a generally peptimistic outlook on life.

A compulsion to wear berets, watch French films, own a small apartment in Paris and meet Gaspard Ulliel epitomised my own stint with francophilia. But as the Janis Ian song goes, I did indeed learn the truth about wishful thinking at seventeen. Exhausted, I put an end to my relentless yearning. 

From time to time though, I still fantasize about buying a baguette each morning and smoking cigarettes in my little balcony alcove during the night. When things are looking a little too prosaic, one can dream of a little romance and la vie boheme can they not?

Masturbatory material for your typical 16 yo francophile: