If this was the first chick-lit book I ever read, I would probably have never read another one.
Yes, it's trashier than most. I could get through that.
What I could not get through was how pretentious the main character was. If it wasn't the use of her last name as her first name, it was the constant designer name dropping that occurs on every single page.
The author literally waits until the last two chapters of the book to try to turn your opinion of the main character around.
I literally feel like it took me forever and a day just to finish all 322 pages.
Reading this book is almost as good as traveling to Paris! I loved this book!
Lauren Klein (now just Klein, thank you) is a corn-fed Wisconsin girl who escaped to the Big Apple, hoping to become a designer of haute couture. At age 34, she is a successful "fashion consultant," with all the trappings of living large: Tribeca loft, closet full of couture, and a French industrialist boyfriend 15 years her senior. But, suddenly, it just all feels so empty--why? Mais bien sur, because Klein isn't following her dream of moving to Paris. So, in true don't-look-before-you-leap fashion, she is on that plane to Paree in one week. What follows is a chronicle of her attempt to set up shop in a city where she doesn't really speak the language and where housing is impossible to find. Oh, and there's lots of sex, too. As Klein tells us repeatedly, the girl likes sex. (Someone should clue heterosexual men in on the subset of chick lit in which the female protagonist just can't get enough and just can't stop talking about it.) Heavy reading, no (despite the heavy breathing); but good fun for Francophiles and expats. Beth Leistensnider
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