(And no, this is not photoshopping from the nineties; it's just my fathers good old system camera from the 70's that broke -it wasn't me- and messed up the film.)
Earlier I wrote about finding it somewhat hilarious when J defined my style as always looking like I'm in France and it's autumn forever, one of the biggest reasons he said being my black beret (that I found in the school corridor when I was sixteen and still use, always use, the only one that ever fit my head). But then I remembered my alter ego (kind of) from my late teen years - the french art chick. And now it makes more sense. See, when I was a teenager I was quite the hippie (I went to a gymnasium/lycée for art, music and ecology so we were all hippies, almost :D) but aside from my colourful 70s or Indian dresses I still had my weakness for the all-black(as a remnant from when I was 15 and everything was black, and as a preminission of what to come I guess...)
In 1999 me and my friend Julien Frost, as he was nicknamed by me back then, went on a short student exchange to Copenhagen. We got a scholarship so everything was paid for, we got a weekly allowance and a flat for free. I had just turned 18, life was great and we smoked ciggies and had wine all day long, listening to the rasta hippies at Radio Christiania and just hanging around town (and every now and then we went to school). We used all our allowance money so in the end we threw parties and collected the bottles afterwards to get breakfast.
Anyway, Julien and I spent hours in The Moonfisher Cafe and that's when he named me the French Art Chick. She would always wear her black jacket with fur (it was fake fur. I'm a vegetarian, I draw the line at leather) with the beret and she'd smoke long slim ciggies with a holder. We came up with these on purpose-silly art-movie ideas about how she (me, that is) would sit in the cafe hour after hour just looking interesting, bohemian and adorable, and about the people she met.
So that was me at the verge of the new millennium.