Love New York, hate Paris

Two of the most romantically iconic places I've visited have been Paris and New York. As a girl who writes a fashion blog, you'd expect me to say I fell in love with both of the places right? Wrong.

I hate Paris. Honestly.

It's a shame as I adore France itself and have a halfway decent understanding of the language. But I've been to Paris twice, hoping I would love it and just....not.I did the locks on the bridge, I ate the Nutella crepes, I even had a chance to sing outside some beautiful cathedrals in my school choir. But it just didn't have anything for me. Slightly dirty, no romance to it, and to me, a smaller, seedier London. So maybe I did miss out on the bits that I could have loved or maybe I've been spoilt by the prettier, quaint, south of France, but I disappointingly hated Paris, despite trying on numerous trips to fall for it.

I did the locks on the bridge, I ate the Nutella crepes, I even had a chance to sing outside some beautiful cathedrals in my school choir. But it just didn't have anything for me. Slightly dirty, no romance to it, and to me, a smaller, seedier London. So maybe I did miss out on the bits that I could have loved or maybe I've been spoilt by the prettier, quaint, south of France, but I disappointingly hated Paris, despite trying on numerous trips to fall for it.

New York, on the other hand, is my true calling. She's big, in your face, loud, a bit like Oprah and I just fell in love instantly. Sure she's dirty too but it's not the same. The wide roads and tall buildings made you feel like you're a borrower and so insignificant.

img_4625-e1492600186765.jpg

Yet walking through a park before the shops have opened, with a cup of tea watching all the runners whilst having trees on one side yet skyscrapers on the other is a feeling I still haven't been able to shake. And what with the red brick Chelsea market or the craziness of Times Square, its such an assault on your senses that you kind of have to love her for it. The day I get transferred out there for a job is the day I know I've made it.

So maybe that's what Paris was missing: the excitement, the bustle-ness, the very joie de vie that it should be famous for. Or maybe it's because I was staying in a vile hostel in Paris compared to a posh apartment on Broadway Street. But until then Paris,  you just weren't right for me. New York, baby, you hit all the right spots.