Here's the best thing about attending an event like the Marrakech International Film Festival: It's one of the rare opportunities that a critic has to truly walk into a screening knowing absolutely nothing about a film.
I worry for the girls out there who are like I was -- who are suffering from the same self-esteem issues that most teenagers do and are being told they are ugly not only by their teasing peers, but by adults around them who are crusading for change.
It is 10am. The private coach is waiting exactly where it's supposed to be, in front of the grand main entrance of the Musée d'Orsay. I climb inside and claim a seat alongside my fellow American travelers, of which there are fourteen.
I'm undecided about metallic jeans as my weekends are a little more Netflix than Nobu. My fashion fantasies are ultimately dashed by financial limitations. In other words, I'm on a budget. I've decided that I am ready to embrace the metallic studded sneaker trend a la Miu Miu.