Kensington mummies are a strange breed.
The first point of note is that the British are in the minority in my neck of the woods, and secondly, working mothers are practically an endangered species. I have still not quite decided if either of these things are positive.
Kensington mamas are a varied lot. Where each sub-species of Kensington dad are easily recognisable, the mums like to mix it up a bit so as to confuse onlookers. But there are two things that give them away - their BMI and astoundingly high levels of personal grooming.
Kensington mamas can be roughly divided into three main groups; the French mamans, the Italian mamas and the American moms. But for the purpose of today's blog, I will focus on the French maman.
The French maman would rather be dead than seen out and about looking fatter than a twig and as for looking scruffy; Mon Dieu! Quelle horreur! There is no excuse for such a lapse.
French Mamans are moody 99% of the time, which British men put down to them being of a sexy Gallic disposition but is actually due to their souls crying out for croissants and bon-bons; inside those sulky skinny thighs are fat happy ones being slowly starved into submission. FMs do laugh sometimes - a husky yet feminine tinkle which is a truly beautiful thing to hear - but only when they are talking to a handsome man or another less attractive French woman. Otherwise, forget it - you'll be lucky to get a pout.
Immaculate at all times, with glossy hair beaten into submission by a weekly blow dry, subtly polished finger nails and only classic, well-cut clothes allowed to cover her sylph-like form; a combination that on anyone else would be matronly but French maman and her carefully gym honed body manages to pull it off to devastating effect.
French maman is in a league of her own. You may not like her (although when you get to know her you will be surpised at how sweet she can be) but she deserves to be admired. Her incredible self-restraint, the ability to make her children look freshly-pressed at all times and her ingenuity with a silk neck scarf (learning to tie a Hermes scarf in 120 different ways is a coming of age ritual for all French women) must be applauded: all are hard-learned skills passed down from one generation to the next and an essential part of the celebrated French female mystique.
Next week: the Italian Mama
The first point of note is that the British are in the minority in my neck of the woods, and secondly, working mothers are practically an endangered species. I have still not quite decided if either of these things are positive.
Kensington mamas are a varied lot. Where each sub-species of Kensington dad are easily recognisable, the mums like to mix it up a bit so as to confuse onlookers. But there are two things that give them away - their BMI and astoundingly high levels of personal grooming.
Kensington mamas can be roughly divided into three main groups; the French mamans, the Italian mamas and the American moms. But for the purpose of today's blog, I will focus on the French maman.
The French maman would rather be dead than seen out and about looking fatter than a twig and as for looking scruffy; Mon Dieu! Quelle horreur! There is no excuse for such a lapse.
French Mamans are moody 99% of the time, which British men put down to them being of a sexy Gallic disposition but is actually due to their souls crying out for croissants and bon-bons; inside those sulky skinny thighs are fat happy ones being slowly starved into submission. FMs do laugh sometimes - a husky yet feminine tinkle which is a truly beautiful thing to hear - but only when they are talking to a handsome man or another less attractive French woman. Otherwise, forget it - you'll be lucky to get a pout.
Immaculate at all times, with glossy hair beaten into submission by a weekly blow dry, subtly polished finger nails and only classic, well-cut clothes allowed to cover her sylph-like form; a combination that on anyone else would be matronly but French maman and her carefully gym honed body manages to pull it off to devastating effect.
French maman is in a league of her own. You may not like her (although when you get to know her you will be surpised at how sweet she can be) but she deserves to be admired. Her incredible self-restraint, the ability to make her children look freshly-pressed at all times and her ingenuity with a silk neck scarf (learning to tie a Hermes scarf in 120 different ways is a coming of age ritual for all French women) must be applauded: all are hard-learned skills passed down from one generation to the next and an essential part of the celebrated French female mystique.
Next week: the Italian Mama
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