What It Would Be Like To Be Someone Else
It’s rather unfair that we’re just birthed into this world unknowingly with no choice on what we will be named or where we will live or essentially how will we lead our lives until we are old enough to make our own bad decisions and pretend we are responsible enough to do things such as get a job, go to university or move out.
What if I wanted to be a moody French girl who only cared about two things in life: my Louis Vuitton Petite Malle and my carefully crafted portfolio of work I created while studying fashion design at ESMOD Paris.
My parents would have named me Celestina as they would believe I must have been gifted to them by an angel because of my soft golden curls that framed my freckled face and bright blue eyes that shone out of my head like two lightbulbs.
Of course, this would not last long as I would chop off all my hair and dye it midnight black, think Edie Campbell in the Yves Saint Laurent Black Opium campaign but sold with less conviction and enthusiasm.
I would spend my days perusing the Champs-Élysées waiting for some charming young photographer who would be on placement in Paris after taking a course in photography at Central Saint Martins to take a ‘candid’ photo of me smoking a cigarette outside of an overpriced café or re applying my Rouge Allure
on the Métro and publish it in the glossy pages of Vogue Italia so that I could finally pursue my dream career of being a socialite, ‘it girl’ turned high fashion model turned leading actress of the most anticipated film at Cannes.
My new career path would hopefully lead me to front the latest Chanel Eyewear Collection (shot by Karl himself obviously) and would be plastered across every billboard in every major European city.
In my free time I’d like to think I would use my new found fame on something productive like hiring my own personal assistant to manage my Instagram while I pretend to do hot yoga, barre ballet or some other trendy exercise class that Gwyneth Paltrow would most definitely approve of but in reality I would most likely end up sleeping all day unless a hefty pay check stated otherwise because in the wise words of
Linda Evangelista: “don’t wake up for less than $10,000 a day,” which I think we’ll all agree is pretty solid advice unless like me (real me) you have to drag yourself out of bed every day to tackle the perils of hell, also known as school, in which case Nutella on wholegrain toast is the equivalent of $10,000 to me and will most definitely assure my parents I will be up and ready before 8am if not earlier.
Disclaimer: The real me would never chop off all my hair and dye it black because 1) I’m a blonde baby through and through and 2) I just don’t have the jawline and bone structure for it but if any of you reading this would like to experiment with their hair, let me know if you feel any more:
c) Like you could front a Chanel Eyewear Campaign
d) In the mood for Nutella on toast