I'm French. Therefore, I am the epitome of style.
Mais bien sûr, I had my legs waxed and my hair styled, because I wouldn't want to be caught with a bad hairdo, especially for the end of the world. There might be a photo op on the way.
I went to Chanel. I bought a dress and a pair of souliers. Formidable! There was a pair of impractical seven-inch-high boots -- sublime! I opted instead for the three -inch pumps with a platform, because we might have a bit of walking and waiting to reach the other side of the end of the world.
I was a bit disappointed that Hermès did not design a limited edition "End of the World" scarf. Do you imagine how much it would fetch next week on eBay?!
My wine cellar? I drank a bottle of Aloxe Corton yesterday. Today, I'm opening the Chateau Lafite-Rothschild 1982. I'm taking the Domaine Romanée-Conti with me. Well, no one said that wine was not allowed on board.
And fuck this "aging with grace" concept so dear to my kin but not to my skin! I can now leave that to Catherine Deneuve, Cabernet and other non perishable goods. Merde, alors. I finally had Botox.