Ditch the car. Hop on a train. End up in Paris (again)

After a very eventful drive to the famed St. Tropez to oggle some plus sized boats that only a truly ridiculous person with an unfathomable bank account could afford, a sail in a death trap of a 4-20 (mast teetering on the verge of death, floor boards ominously quavering and a center board that more than leaked) we've ditched the car and trained (super duper TGV fast, of course) it back to Paris. Ahhh, Paris, and ahhh Paris during Fashion Week...what a, well, er, strange place. The "outfits" are out in full force and the people in them aren't much better. Parisians, I have to say, are annoying. Being in the South, I forgot the snark that comes with Paris, the constipated glares that follow you around, the unattractive duck face that overly botoxed French women make and general unpleasant atmosphere that comes with the wine swilling, Galoise smoking, baguette munching, tongue clicking Parisians. Good riddance. Send me back down South.

Although I must say I am looking forward to some clandestine iPhone shots of the Fashion week get ups...