Love Style Life

by Garance Dore

  THE PERFECT NEW YORK WOMAN HAS A SET OF PERFECTLY EDITED FRIENDS.

  She has her BFF, of course, whom she has known since kindergarten. Then there is the BFF of the moment, the one she wants to be seen with at parties. (Okay, now I’m being cynical. But this whole story is cynical, so don’t pretend it bothers you. Plus, I’m French, and cynicism is our religion! I tricked you with that super-romantic illustration, didn’t I?)

  Then she has her lawyer friends and her friends in finance, for the day when she needs investors (and apparently they’re also good contacts for finding a husband). She also has her group of happy artist friends who like to party (nice but a little loud), her powerful friends (CEOs, EICs), her famous friend (if you live in New York and you don’t know anyone at least a little bit famous, you don’t live in New York).

  And, of course, her gay friend; how could I forget? She calls him her gay husband.

  Such a network takes years to create, but you must persevere! Perseverance is a sign that you’re a perfect girl who never gives up.

  AND THAT WAS JUST THE BASICS.

  Like the ABCs of perfection.

  ADD TO THAT A FEW MORE SELECTIONS FROM THE MENU.

  In order of importance:

  1. Have a great apartment. Okay, it depends on your age, but a great apartment counts. It has to have a doorman (who knows why, but having a doorman is a sign of social success in New York. I don’t have a doorman, so I guess I’m screwed) or—even better—a rooftop!

  2. In the right neighborhood. If the apartment in question is in Harlem (even if we all agree that Harlem is THE up-and-coming neighborhood), it’s not as good as if it’s in the West Village; just know that.

  3. Have amazing clothes! Yep, in New York, you’d better have fashion connections. So you can wear all the clothes you can’t afford to buy yourself, like Carrie Bradshaw did. (Now I finally understand how she got all those amazing clothes on a journalist’s salary! She had friends in PR!)

  4. Be “in the know.” Know all the good restaurants. Know the owner of the restaurant so you can snag a table at the last minute. Get into a club in the blink of an eye. A huge plus, you have to admit.

  Yeah.

  It’s a lot.

  Of things to do.

  And you can’t just do them. You have to do them perfectly, if possible.

  AND YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT LOOK TOTALLY NATURAL.

  That, my friends, is the pièce de résistance, and it’s what causes the most chaos in my little French brain. You have to do all of this and, on top of it all, act like you’re cool about it all.

  You can’t be good at everything in a city as stressful as New York AND be relaxed about it. To reach that degree of perfection, there’s some part of you that has to be a control freak. But since no one likes a control freak, you find yourself saying things like:

  “I love burgers!!! They’re my favorite thing!”

  “I’m such a party girl!!!”

  “I love beer!”

  “This apartment? Nah, I decorated it myself little by little, with my best friend” (best friend = my decorator).

  “I’m real, you know, friendship is a deep thing for me.”

  So there you have it. It took me almost five years to decode, but now I’ve finally understood—nobody perfect is cool, and nobody cool is perfect.

  NOBODY PERFECT IS COOL, AND NOBODY COOL IS PERFECT.

  With love, we’re kids forever, stumbling and learning as life unfolds. And this is why, whatever happens, we must keep our hearts open.

  One day I was on the phone with my father, whom I don’t call nearly enough, and I was trying to communicate just how much I love him.

  “Papa, I love you!”

  Silence.

  “Uhhhhh, Papa?”

  “Yes, my dear?”

  “I love you!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

  “Ummm. Okay…I miss you!”

  “Yeahhhh, yeah yeah yeah. You too, my dear. I miss you a lot.”

  No, my father and I aren’t having relationship issues. We love each other! It’s just that in France you don’t throw around “I love you” casually. My father misheard me because “I love you” (how American of me) just didn’t register. In France, “I love you” is strong. “I love you” is dramatic. “I love you” runs deep.

  Of course, there are degrees. Some families never say it (which isn’t to say they don’t love each other), and some families, like mine, only say it at special moments. Some say it often too, but in my experience those families are rare.

  Imagine my surprise when, a year after I moved to the States, I got an e-mail from an American friend who ended her note with “I love you!”

  Wait, what? I spent a half hour reading and rereading the e-mail.

  “I love you.” Wait, you “looooooooove” me? How exactly do you mean? Do you mean like LOVE love? Like friend love? You love me like you want to kisssss me? You love me like a sister? You…

  I drafted a long e-mail telling her that, yes, I loved her too, but not in the same way, but that I wouldn’t let any of it affect our friendship and that I…

  And then I just let it go. And phew! I did good there.

  It turned out that “love” or “love you” is a common way to end an e-mail in the States.

  I had no idea!

  I still had a very French way of speaking, which I’m sure raised a lot of eyebrows when I first was assimilating into New York society. There was a whole new level of language to master.

  And just because you “love!” someone doesn’t mean you necessarily want to have lunch with that person. Ah, just another example of the cultural gap between Paris and New York that I had to bridge….

  IN NEW YORK: “Oh my Gaaaaaaad, so happy to see you! How aaaare you?”

  IN PARIS: “Hey! How’s it going?”

  IN NEW YORK: Big hugs.

  IN PARIS: You give kisses on the cheek. If you really want to show affection for someone, you give the cheek kisses with your hands on their shoulders. Wow. Best friends forever.

  IN NEW YORK: “Your dress. OMG, I love it! Where did you find it???”

  IN PARIS: “Your dress isn’t bad (Not bad = pas mal = very French expression). Where’d you find it?”

  IN NEW YORK: “Garance? She’s my BEST friend!”

  IN PARIS: “Garance? Yeah. I know her.”

  IN NEW YORK: “Beyoncé? She’s hilarious!!!”

  IN PARIS: “Beyoncé? Yeah, she’s funny.”

  Voilà. Now you know another one of the secrets to Parisian coolitude, which is not to “love” anything too much. It’s not really so bad, because when you say “I love you” in French, it carries a lot of weight.

  And so if one day a Parisian comes up to you and says she “loves” your dress, I give you full permission to jump up and down and get the dress framed.

  As for me, of course, I’ve adapted. I hug all the time, I love everyone, even my father, even my accountant (“Love…” Oops, I mean “Best!”), and I’ve come to find it all pretty fun. It’s cute, this collective vocabulary euphoria.

  I love it.

  My family is crazy.

  I’m pretty lucky, though. They’re the right kind of crazy. Crazy, with a lot of love.

  We all love each other so much, sometimes we can’t help it—we judge, we’re in each other’s business, we drive each other nuts.

  My family has taught me a lot about love, that it’s possible to love someone who will…

  TALK BEHIND YOUR BACK.

  You know, the number-one rule of friendship, never talk behind someone’s back? Doesn’t apply to family. For some reason, in my family, our favorite sport is calling each other to complain about everyone’s business.

  So while my mother is talking to my sister about how I’ll never settle down and don’t take myself seriously enough (“No, but don’t you think it’s time for her to make a baby? I’m so worried!!!”), I’m talking to my brother about my mom’s ch
oices (“Why the hell doesn’t she sell that house? Enough with the house drama!”) and my sister is talking behind my dad’s back (“Can you believe he didn’t offer me a piece of his foie gras? Who does that?”).

  At first I thought we might be a dysfunctional family.

  Now? I understand that these are words of love and care. As for our phone bills? Yeeeaahh.

  Family will love you, but they will…

  JUDGE YOUR LIFE CHOICES.

  The bare minimum that you ask of anyone you know, from your friends to your mailman, is that they respect your life choices, right?

  Yet, in my family, we all think we know better. Not that any one of us is more successful than the next: We’ve all been winners and losers at times.

  Take that day I called my sister to tell her how broke and desperate I was. All I wanted was her shoulder to cry on. Yet here’s what I heard:

  “Listen, darling, that’s your life choice, eh? You chose an artistic, boho life. Don’t come complaining to me about not being able to even buy a pair of shoes.

  “You made your choice: I buy shoes. You paint.”

  The shock! Okay, she was right. But the shock!!!

  I still can’t forget the sting of that remark…but time healed it.

  Yep. Another thing I learned from my family? Loving is forgiving.

  Because your family can love you and still…

  THINK YOU’RE DATING A LOSER.

  You think that because the guy is your choice, your family should accept him, right?

  SURE.

  They will give you the same look and plaster on that same fake smile as your friends did when you introduced your loser. They’re going to talk behind your back (“How the hell did she find that guy? He’s not even attractive!”), and when you break up with him three years later, after realizing that he actually was a loser, you’ll never know if:

  1. You gave in to their influence.

  2. He was really a loser.

  Same thing if they LOVE your boyfriend. Oh, the pressure. “He’s great, keep him, don’t do this, don’t say that, don’t break up, can we see him more”—aaaaaalll that.

  Come on, family, get ahold of yourselves!

  My advice: Protect your love story from your loving family until you’re sure he’s the one.

  That’s why, with family, sometimes it’s best to…

  PUT AN OCEAN BETWEEN YOU AND THEM.

  I found that I love my family much better when we’re apart.

  From across an ocean, I can be everything to them that I could never be if I was living close.

  I can be generous with my time when I see them.

  I can be the Great Adviser (because I don’t have my nose in their business, so they can call and tell me their story the way they see it and the distance helps me keep my opinion to myself).

  I can love them the way they are (because it’s like watching a movie: From afar, all their little flaws are charming).

  But, still, family will sometimes…

  STOP TALKING TO YOU, EVEN THOUGH THEY MISS YOU DEARLY EVERY DAY.

  In every family there comes a moment when the Worst Has Been Committed (this can range from saying hello in the wrong tone one morning to almost causing the whole family to go bankrupt).

  In these instances, we stop talking. Sometimes it’s just for a little while; sometimes it’s two or three weeks. Sometimes it’s for a few months, like last time my mom and my sister had a feud. It was not easy, as they live three minutes away from each other.

  And, also, they were both calling me every day to see how the other was doing.

  Till I put my foot down and told them they had to talk to each other ’cause I, in case they had forgotten, live an ocean away. (I do think they had forgotten. Modern communications!!!)

  That said, we also have the tragic history of my dad and my granddad, whom I never met.

  My granddad passed away a few years ago, and he hadn’t spoken to my dad in over forty years, just because he hadn’t agreed with his choice of marrying my mom. This is a very sad story.

  Life is just too short to go to these extremes. Talk to each other, crazy people.

  Your family can love you and still…

  MAKE YOU LOSE ALL YOUR MONEY.

  Each time this happened in my family, it began with very good intentions (including dreams of conquering the world).

  Money is tricky, because it can really come between people. I’ve seen my family go bankrupt twice because of bad investments. But you learn that losing money is not the end of the world and that money actually comes back to you if you get back to work.

  The bad news is that you might lose your home, your car, and your coffeemaker in the process.

  And then have your neighbor buy them.

  So, from observing my family over the years, here’s what I’ve learned:

  Don’t lend money that you can’t afford to never get back. Don’t let anybody “take care of your money.” Don’t let anybody “take care of your business.” Always sign a contract. Never ever think that a contract protects you from anything.

  Don’t believe the exceptions you hear about.

  With all that knowledge, you should be able to enjoy the wonderful gifts of family:

  Loving people with their flaws and their crazy quirks. Loving people who don’t share their foie gras. Loving people with opposite political views. Loving people you’ve known all your life. Loving a brother. Loving a sister. Loving a half sister who is half your age and says crazy shit on Twitter.

  Loving a mom and a dad, so much. And a stepdad. And the whole extended family. Loving it as your tiny family expands to become a whole tribe.

  Loving it when your whole crazy family gets together. Getting older together. Rejoicing about the new generation ready to take over the world. Knowing your family better than you know yourself.

  Always having a home to go back to when everything else falls apart.

  In France, we have two words to describe friendship.

  Copain, which means a person you like and see casually from time to time.

  And ami, the word that describes a person with whom a friendship runs deep.

  To French people, l’amitié is like love, but it’s even better.

  Because it’s rare and takes so long to build, it’s incredibly precious.

  And because you know that a true friend is every day and forever.

  I have many copains and thousands of contacts in my phone. I could throw a party with a thousand people. With Internet, the circles have gotten bigger than ever. But friends I could call at four in the morning because I just broke up with my boyfriend?

  I can count them on the fingers of one hand. And I am grateful I have that many.

  TO ME, A TRUE FRIEND…

  …Doesn’t judge you, but also has the right to disapprove of your full-body tattoo.

  …Will drop everything she’s doing and come to your rescue if you have an emergency, but will also tell you when you’re overreacting.

  …Has the right to be pissed at you when you overreact. But not for too long.

  …Doesn’t make a move on your ex.

  …Doesn’t make a move on your boyfriend!!!

  …Doesn’t steal your friends!!! (Unless you encourage her to do so.)

  …Doesn’t lie to you.

  BEST THINGS TO DO WITH TRUE FRIENDS

  Just be yourself—the true essence of friendship.

  Travel to Greece and spend the whole time at the pool, chatting about life. A shame for Greece’s beautiful landscapes, but such fun.

  Watch reruns of Sex and the City while chugging gelato.

  Wile away your entire day doing nothing, possibly ending up drunk at a bar at 2:00 a.m., and no one’s to blame.

  In my opinion, the international crème de la crème friend activity:

  The morning after a big night out, sipping tea and recapping all of the night’s events.

  THINGS YOU WANT A TRUE FRIEND TO BE ABLE TO SAY TO YOU
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br />   “Yeah, okay, maybe you’re right. You’ve gained a few. We’ll stop our Ben & Jerry’s couch parties for the next couple months.”

  “You look stunning in that photo!”

  “That outfit just doesn’t work on you.”

  “I saw your man with another woman.”

  or

  “Your boyfriend is amazing. Stop making up stories; you’re being paranoid.”

  SIGNS THAT IT’S A TRUE FRIENDSHIP

  You don’t need to have a plan to get together. You can see each other with nothing on the agenda. You just know you want to spend time together, and you decide what you’ll do after.

  Your friend is with people who are magnificently cooler or amazingly more important than you (yeah, it happens all the time in New York) and introduces you as if you’re the greatest thing in the world.

  After three minutes of silence in a conversation, no one feels embarrassed.

  With a true friend, you can be completely yourself.

  You don’t need to act like the cool girl who has “a ton of friends, a great job, and an awesome boyfriend, wahoooo!” You can just be you.

  Even after not seeing each other for a year, you feel like you’re picking up a conversation you didn’t quite finish the day before.

  After thirty-five years of friendship, you still laugh together like teenagers (my mom and her best friend, so awesome).