Are They Actually Genetically Gifted in the Art of Chic?

Kookai Spring 2010 dress
My answer would be a resounding “YES”.
The year was 1992. It was a frigid and snowy December, so, at the spur of the moment, I chose to go to Paris for the first time. Why not? I was a footloose-and-fancy-free twenty-year-old college student on winter break. I had saved up some money too but cashed out a small amount for clothing shopping. I was bursting at the seams to immerse myself in everyday Paris street fashion and to get my hands on it for myself. I felt like Cinderella waiting for my fairy Godmother to wave her magic wand. I had visions of returning to campus, utterly transformed, into a real Parisian Fashionista.
Kookai Spring 2010 top
Still, I packed all of what I considered to be my most chic clothes because I didn’t want to stand out. In other words, I decided not to tour the city in tennis shoes, my college sweatshirt, and old holed-up sweatpants.
I had secured a host family through a friend and they met me at the airport in Paris. I was dressed up, for an American, that is.
But, when I stepped off that plane, I was utterly flabber-gasted.
Not only was I under-dressed in my black slacks and red sweater, I was really under-dressed. I didn’t have the high spiky heels that I quickly saw clacking and rushing through the airport. I didn’t have the right scarf in just the right color wrapped just so about my neck. I didn’t have the right statement jewelry. I wasn’t wearing a fitted cashmere over-coat or trench coat to complete the look. My clothes were slightly baggy rather than extremely form-fitting. I was thin at the time, but I was not “French thin”.
In short, I was OUT OF MY LEAGUE.
I was very self-conscious as I met my host-family, but they greeted me warmly nonetheless, as I verbally stumbled around in broken high-school French trying to communicate with them politely and express over-whelming gratitude for them taking me in on short notice. Luckily, the two sons spoke English fluently and seamlessly switched into English without embarrassing me. Not only were these people extremely well-dressed and thin, they had an inherent grace and subtlety that is rarely found in America.*
Kookai’s Autumn 2009 showing (look for it on sale on the net)
One of the sons took me around Paris each day. The family bought us metro passes and we saw all the sights– the Eiffel Tower, La Louvre, La Musee D’Orsay, The Tuilleries Gardens, and of course stores. Oh… the stores. Sigh…
I quickly found the chain store of my dreams. It was called Kookai– pronounced coo-K-eye. They had runway fashion at reasonably affordable prices. Heck, I could afford them on a college budget, so that must have been really affordable. Everything in the store was cut perfectly, had some stretch to it, and was tailored for slight curves. In short, I had found Parisian Fashion Nirvana. Yes, I had certainly arrived.
I stocked up on a black trench coat, fitted shirts and skirts, colored and tailored jeans, high heels, and tons of scarves and accessories. After I put on my Kookai outfit, I soon blended in with the rest of the women I saw walking down the street. And, I was no longer so deeply embarrassed over my appearance. I still wasn’t “French-thin”, but at least my clothes didn’t scream out, “OH look, an American at twelve o’clock!! Duck into your newspaper, unfiltered cigarette, and espresso!” Yes, all those chain-smoking, newspaper-reading, beret-wearing Frenchies couldn’t even spot me coming. Ah hah, I finally had my edge.



































