The other night I was one of two Americans at a table full of five people. The rest were French. Oui! The thing I noticed while subtly tracking all of Vincent’s French colleagues’ movements was that the French have a quiet elegance. This fine selection of French people were not loud or boastful. They were calm. They ate half their meals. They drank one glass of alcohol before dinner.
I can really relate to this quiet elegance. People often notice my own quiet elegance, especially after I announce in the middle of conversations, “I have a quiet kind of elegance.”
The best part of the evening, pour moi, was when Vincent’s colleague said, “Well, you’re French now. You’re marrying French.” I think I tapped Vincent’s leg under the table and then looked at him like, “I came. I saw. I conquered.” I have become French.
It is very…
View original post 871 more words