#parisian hat

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue October 1, 1956

Ann Farrar wears a red fedora with a black grosgrain ribbon, black polka dot veil, all wrapped in a cloud of black polka dot veil. Designed by GilBert Orcel.

Ann Farrar porte un feutre rouge avec un ruban gros-grain noir, voile à pois noirs, le tout enveloppé dans un nuage de voile à pois noirs. Conçu par GilBert Orcel.

Frances McLaughlin-Gill vogue archive

[illustratus]

The Young Musician by Michel Garnier

[r-aindr0p]

Finding old oc designs in sketchbooks and revamping them, I love doing that

Gentlemen thieves/ top hat classy thieves are characters that I love really much so of course I created one myself !

I don't have a precise background for him yet, something along the lines of "retrieving lost family heirlooms and seeking revenge"

His family mysteriously disappeared in a fire when he was a child, and he got adopted by an older noblewoman under a new identity. Now working as a police officer alongside his shenanigans, he tries to find by who and why did his family perish in that fire at their home many years ago. He commits heists under the name of "Le Lièvre" (The Hare) Has a pet bunny he calls his little "Arsène Lapin"

[mote-historie]

Xavier Gose (Paris), Die Raffinierte, Jugend magazine. München, 22. February 1909.

Museu d'Art Jaume Morera

[droughtofapathy]

The fact that Avis panic-flew all the way to Paris, but still took the time to pack this snazzy little number and all of the accompanying accessories. Such an icon.

[sketchonista]

Vautrait FW24 shot backstage at Paris Fashionweek

[fhuzee]

The Row Indo Hat

[postcard-from-the-past]

Advertisement of a Parisian hat shop

French vintage postcard

[artdecoandmodernist]

Edward Steichen, Lee Miller, in Marie-Christiane cloche hat, Vogue, 1928.

[megumimania]

EX FACTOR — gojo satoru

summary: don’t fuck your ex! (kidding) when a booking conflict forces you to room with gojo for the night, will your hatred of him last through the night or will you fall prey to his charms again?

warnings: smut (17+), afab reader, gojo is slight ooc but his slutty ways still remain, gojo and reader trying and failing to stand on business, exes to ???, they still love each other ya’l

ah paris, the city of love.

unfortunately the effects of the city fall flat on you as you’re stuck in a cramped car with a tinny voice in your ear belonging to the strongest sorcerer gojo satoru (aka your ex boyfriend). if shoko and utahime could see you right now they would be laughing their asses off.

initially this mission was supposed to be carried out by nanami and gojo but the night before they were scheduled to leave, nanami caught a “stomach bug.” this was unlike the formidable sorcerer who never ate anywhere that had a below 3 hygiene rating and he always made that fact known. so why would he eat at a low grade sushi restaurant, is a mystery to some.

the lack of readily available sorcerers at hand meant that you were left to accompany gojo on the mission. you were ready to drop everything at a hat for a trip to paris. aside from other neighbouring countries you never really ventured outside of asia and you were excited to explore paris and see what it had to offer

however what people forgot to conveniently mention,(or what you forgot to read) was that gojo would be coming onto the trip and by the time you found out it was too late to object, the paperwork was already signed.

he’s busy yapping away at poor ijichi who is trying to keep his eyes on the road as gojo eagerly shows him something on his phone that ijichi could honestly could care less about. you feel pity for the man, even though his pay is generous it could never be enough to deal with gojo’s antics 24/7.

“what picture should i post for thirst trap thursday?” he practically shoves the phone in your face as he swipes between the two photos. you’re about to curse out his entire bloodline for disturbing your peace but a pleading look from ijichi forces you to play nice.

the man has already been through hell and back from trying to keep you both from ripping each other’s throats out on this trip, so pretending to be amicable with your ex is the least that you could do for his sake. so you entertain gojo’s latest whim as he shows the first picture.

picture one is a classic thirst trap.

he’s fresh out of the shower, hair damp and his towel resting dangerously low on his hips, water droplets decorate his abs and the low light highlights his taut muscles. of course his face is out of the frame. it’s seductive, it’s alluring and it’s—

you’re getting ahead of yourself.

if gojo saw you staring he makes no gesture to acknowledge it.

you clear your throat hoping it’ll dispel the heat that subtly warms your cheeks. thankfully the windows are down as you zip through the busy parisian streets hearing tidbits of french as the wind whips at your skin. its honestly embarrassing how much he still has an effect on you months after the breakup but you couldn’t deny that he is a fine man, even though he looked a bit whorish in this picture.

“is that it?” you say coolly, trying not to seem too affected by the borderline r-rated pic. he pops some candy in his mouth as he passes his phone over to you with a wink.

you almost want to roll your eyes at his blatant attempt to try and rile you up but you are not the woman you were 5 minutes ago, you were not gonna stoop down to his level.

you were way better than that.

“you already know my password,” the way he’s so casual about it throws you off guard. you kinda expected him to be more cagey with something as high regarded as his phone. only god knows the amount of men and women who were in his dms right now, the mere thought of that sending a current of jealousy running through you.

picture two is less obscene but it’s still slutty as hell.

he’s dressed in the fuckboy classic: a plain white tee, grey sweat pants and a gold chain. he sure knows how to work the hell out of the outfit though. everything fits a little bit too well, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“well?” he stretches out the word, snapping you out of your reverie with a smug grin on his face that makes you forget all the reasons why you found him attractive in the first place. “whaddya think?”

“you look like a slutty jack frost,” you replied almost immediately, revelling in the way his smug grin was practically wiped off his face.

humbling him was your favourite past time. after all, knocking him down a few pegs was needed for everybody’s sake.

“why can’t you ever compliment me normally?” he groans snatching his phone from you. you’re more shocked he took your thinly veiled insult as a compliment but you ignore it for now.

gojo knew better than to ever ask you to compliment him normally, especially after the breakup where most of the words you would use now to describe him would probably get you a write up from the higher ups.

yet he still tried as if one day, the words that would spill from your lips about him would be one of admiration and not of hatred. for someone who was supposed to be the strongest and smartest man alive he was pretty naive and pretty fucking stupid sometimes.

“i refuse to feed your fat ego.” you crossed your arms as you looked at the blurring landscape in front of you, ignoring the way your traitorous heart was beating as his leg brushed yours. this was bridgerton levels of depravity that would put anthony bridgerton himself to shame.

god you seriously needed to get laid.

—

luckily curses weren’t as much of an issue in other countries compared to places like japan, so all you had to deal with was low grade curses lurking around touristy areas like the notre dame cathedral and the paris catacombs which made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

the day left you tired, sweaty and irritable. the toll of exorcising curses finally hitting you like bricks, making your muscles sore and achy. all you wanted was to take a nice hot bath and take a nap but of course nothing can ever go your way when gojo is around.

gojo accidentally booked one double room for the both of you and after several minutes of back and forth with the receptionist who made it clear in both english and french that she wouldn’t be able to make last minute adjustments, you had to settle with sharing a room with your ex.

you stalked over to the hotel room and made a beeline for the shower before gojo could open his mouth to make a witty remark.

desperately needing a minute to yourself before you dealt with the situation at hand, the hot shower helped melt away all the stress and tension of the day. a sigh of relief left your lips as you rolled your shoulders from side to side, feeling content and much more like yourself.

it is 11:30pm in paris and you still haven’t slept. you are too busy arguing with gojo about who is gonna sleep where.

“it’s fine, i’ll just sleep on the couch,” you grabbed the pillows off the bed and walked over to the couch before gojo grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him.

“c’mon, you know that if you sleep on the couch that you’ll complain in the morning about how bad your back is!” gojo interjected, still holding your arm but now in an awkward hold once he realised what he was doing. the brief moment of contact sent shivers down your spine.

“and before you start with your line of argument, just remember okinawa 2016.” he smiled knowingly, watching your face twitch at the mention of that godforsaken vacation-turned-mission you took together.

the trauma of that year was permanently etched into your skin. if it wasn’t already marked by the scar , it was marked by the psychological effects of the vacation that still crept up on you.

“fine, you win.” you huffed, releasing yourself from his hold getting into bed with him. it was honestly too late to argue and from what it sounded like you were the only two people on your floor who were still up. plus you didn’t want to unleash hell on poor i

—

the pillow wall between you both could only do so much as gojo’s limbs found their way to yours, as if it was muscle memory. they had you trapped in a deadlock—his arms snug around your waist and his head buried into the crook of your neck, his eyelashes tickling your skin.

the heat was unbearable making sleep practically impossible for you, the constant tossing and turning, dampening any chance of you getting a good night’s rest before your early flight in the morning.

“can’t sleep?” his voice rasped, still heavy with fatigue. maybe it was the sleep deprivation or the way his breath tickled your neck, that made him all the more appealing to you right now.

“nope.” you hummed in response not wanting your mind to focus on how close he was to you. how your bodies were practically flush against each other, how you could feel the faint sounds of his heart beat.

his touch strayed for a second, his fingers beginning to trace circles on your waist. a light innocent touch that was supposed to be soothing, stirred a current of desire you fought to keep at bay. knowing that if you relented for one second that the hatred you held for him would dissipate without second thought.

that’s why this whole thing was a stupid idea, letting him take you on an impromptu tour of paris, agreeing to share a room let alone a bed with him in the dead of night.

how could you claim to hate your ex when you had no qualms about being in his presence for so long? god you were full of utter shit but it didn’t bother you, at least you tried (and failed) to stand on business, not many people could say that.

gojo knew what he was doing his wandering hands trailing down from your arm to the dangerously skimming the waistband of your panties, each touch would send a shiver down your spine and part of you wished that he’d quit being a tease and give you what you wanted but you knew that was part of his charm.

his touch was almost exhilarating, leaving goosebumps in its wake. it was almost embarrassing how he barely touched you and you were already a wreck. “such a needy girl f’me, aren’t ya?” he mused, revelling at how wet you already were from his mere teasing.

all rebuttals were squashed when he attached his lips to your sweet cunt, throwing the duvet off of you, leaving you exposed in the moonlight. the sudden dip in temperature making your nipples harden, you call out for his name several times whilst he ravishes you without hesitation, even having the cheek to spell his name with his tongue.

“fuckkk right there.” you pant out, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to which he lets out a low growl at the sensation, slurping up all of your juices with a fervour that was almost primal, animalistic to say the least. your orgasm crashes over you like a freight train leaving you heady and slightly dizzy.

he looks up from where he is, hair tousled and his signature cerulean blues taking on a more darker hue as he reaches up to kiss you, his lips and cheeks stained with the glossy sheen of your release. his hand tweaks your nipples earning an impromptu moan from you that he swallows up as he deepens the kiss, rutting his hips into your thigh.

it was no surprise that he was already hard, he often joked that eating you out was his favourite past time besides going out to eat at his favourite sweet shops, which made you question if he had an oral fixation. to which he replied if it

gojo pulls down his boxers, his cock springing up against his washboard abs, the sight alone is enough to make you drool. you forget how pretty his dick was, his mushroom red tip that was leaking with precum to the prominent veins that ran on the underside of his cock.

“open your mouth f’me.” he asks and you oblige his request as he stuffs your mouth with his cock. the warm velvety confines of your mouth is enough to make him cum already but he holds out, not wanting to ruin the fun just yet. “missed that pretty mouth of yours, taking me so well.” he groans, holding your head as he fucks your mouth, the sound of you gagging on him is enough to make him lose control.

whilst gojo loved to brag how he found better, truth was that nobody could compare to you—hell even elicit the same sounds he was making when he was with you. sure his hookups and short lived relationships were enjoyable they lacked the electricity that passion he was searching for, the one that came naturally to the both of you when you were together.

“fuck princess you’re killin’ me over here.” he heaves before pulling out of your mouth entirely letting the tip of his dick rest pretty against your lips. you whine at the loss of contact but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, teasing your entrance.

“quit being such a tease.” you said annoyedly, before the air was knocked out of your lungs as he fully enters you in one fell swoop, your jaw slackens as you try to accomodate his size. he tuts, giving you a look of mock disappointment. “my, my, didn’t they teach you that patience is a virtue?”

he grins placing a kiss on your shoulder as he began to move in and out of you slowly, drinking up all your whines and moans as he picked up the pace, his hips driving into yours at a brutal pace. your tits jiggling with every sharp thrust, your hands find his way to his back to steady yourself.

“shit ‘toru, mmph!” his hand clamps over your mouth watching your eyes roll into the back of your head as he fucks you senseless, bullying your pretty little cunt. “shh, you gotta be quiet princess, ijichi is a couple doors down and you’re not doing a good job at hating my guts right now.” he says with a smirk.

in the midst of all this passion you forgot that you weren’t the only people on this floor, you knew that you and gojo were gonna be public enemy number one by the morning.

strands of his hair is stuck to his forehead as he thrusts gets more sloppy, his hips stuttering as your cunt milks him dry. god he’s missed this, missed you and your pussy that was truly made for him. at this point he has devolved into common man, becoming more pussy drunk as he tries to delay his orgasm so he can see you cum again.

“you gonna give me what i want?” his voice sounding less demanding and more desperate, his hands snaking down to your clit to coax one more orgasm out of you whilst trailing kisses down your neck. the sensation is dizzying: his presence, his words, his touch—all leading to your undoing as one last orgasm rips through you, leaving you spent.

his orgasm follows shortly after yours, collapsing on top of you with a sigh. the two of you stay like that for a while, not wanting to ruin the post coital haze with discussions of what this meant for you both going forward.

so you dont.

but ijichi does take note of the sudden change in atmosphere in the car on the way back to the airport. it’s more quiet, less bickering and shenanigans. gojo is less annoying, hell he’s even asleep!

he knew something did happen in the last night, it wasn’t like you two kept it discreet by any means but when he catches a glimpse of your hands interlinked together it all makes sense.

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue October 1, 1956

Ann Farrar wears a Norwegian blue fox chechia, by Claude St-Cyr.

Ann Farrar porte une chéchia en renard bleu norvégien, par Claude St-Cyr.

Photo Frances McLaughlin-Gill vogue archive

[finelinevogue]

parisian love

summary - you are a little self conscious of your feelings in the city of love

word count: ~1.5k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

a/n: harry had been looking too good lately so i had to write a little blurb about him again <3

“Quit it, will you.” Harry interrupted your scary glare towards your waitress.

You humphed and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the little garden chair in the quaint Parisian cafe.

It was a gorgeous day in Paris and you and Harry were enjoying it together on his day off. Touring was always u such a hectic schedule, but Harry always made sure there was time for you.

Today he has suggested going to a cafe for brunch, seeing as all you’d been showing him were the infamous hot chocolates they serve here along with buttery croissants. You’d been waiting for the opportunity to have one, so Harry was treating you.

Only, the waitress was slightly ruining the experience by flirting with your, clearly, boyfriend.

“So you be the bigger person and be the one to quit it.” He replied calmly.

“So you be the bigger person and be the one to quit it.” He replied calmly.

His sunglasses and his hat shielded much of him away from the public, but clearly not enough for the waitress not to be all over him.

She kept making subtle touches to his shoulder, obvious glances towards his open chest where his linen shirt was unbuttoned and you could’ve sworn some buttons on her shirt had been undone since you arrived.

You picked up your hot chocolate and tried to let the smooth and sweet drink override your jealousy.

It wasn’t often that you were a jealous girlfriend, since you had to deal with it day in and day out, but sometimes it all got a little too overwhelming.

Especially in Paris.

All this trip you’d had this deep and unsettling anxiety in your chest. It made your chest feel hollow and your throat really clogged up. Your stomach was constantly full of anxious butterflies and you couldn’t bring yourself to confront as to why.

Harry was reading a tourist booklet about Paris, whilst you sat and people watched.

When you feel his hand cup your exposed knee, due to you wearing a pretty pink summers dress, you turn your head away from the people and focus on him.

“Hm?” You ask.

“I said, do you want to go on a walk after this?” Harry asked again, the first time having gone amiss to you.

“Oh, um, sure.” You gave him a small smile.

“I think there might be a garden around here that we can wander around.” He pointed to a page in the small book he was holding, but you get lost in thought again.

Harry returns to his book and before long the waitress comes back over.

You watched her put her hand on your boyfriends shoulder and look away just as quickly, in case you say something that will get you in trouble.

“Can I get you anything else today?” She asked Harry.

You sip your hot chocolate until it’s gone, having had enough of this.

You stand up abruptly, rattling the table a little. You turn to face the woman and notice that her hand is no longer on Harry’s body, but she is still stood rather close to him.

“I think I’m going to go somewhere where I don’t have to see another girl flirting with my boyfriend.” You say to her and watch her face void of emotions.

You look down at Harry, who looks up at the two of you with the same blank expression. You can’t tell whether he’s angry or annoyed, but you have a feeling it’s somewhere in between.

After gulping down the stone at the back of your throat that threatens the tears, you get up and walk off slowly so not to draw any more attention to yourself.

You sniffle your way out of the café and start heading down the road back to the hotel.

After an argument with Harry, sometimes you would walk off, similar to this, but what always happened is that Harry would follow you. Always a few meters behind, but he could never leave you fully alone after an argument and he would always find the fastest way to make it up to you.

A spare bench was located on the crest of a hill, where the rest of the city could be seen below.

You sat down and held your bag in your lap, opening the zip to find a pack of tissues with shaky hands. You took one out and dabbed at the corner of your eyes lightly, so not to smudge your eye makeup.

The view was gorgeous, but it was easily forgotten about when Harry sat down next to you.

He sat with a couple feet of space between you and as much as he hated it, he respected you want for space.

“M’sorry.” You spoke first, after a couple minutes of silence.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for, baby.” Harry comforted you by reaching one his arms along the back of the bench and stroking one of his fingers, gently, over the back of your neck. It was a reminder that he was really here for you.

At the subtle gesture, you sniffled and dived over to his side of the bench to snuggle up against the side of his body. Your head found home against his shoulder and his head rested atop of yours, after he left a little kiss there. His arm snaked around the back of your body and rested his hand on your outside hip.

You sniffled again and tried to control your watery eyes.

“What’s got you so sad, hm?” He asked.

“I hate being jealous.”

“Why?”

“Makes me look childish and insecure.”

“I don’t think it does, babe. I think it shows me how much you love me. You’re willing to get upset when someone else shows interest in me. It’s weird to say, but I find it comforting that you don’t want me for anyone else. The same as I don’t want you belonging to anyone else. I like you as mine.” His arm squeezes you a bit in reassurance.

“It’s nice when you put it that way.” You smiled, even though he can’t see.

“It’s okay for you to get jealous, Y/N/N. I just don’t like the idea of you getting proper upset over me.”

“You mean so much to me, Harry, i’m just scared it’s to good to be true being with you.”

“Well, how about we take each other for each day we have together and let what feelings we have for each override any fears or insecurities. Hey?”

“That sounds good.”

You both fall silent for a little bit, people watching as the sun sets over the city of love. It’s gorgeous how the sky burns a palette of oranges and yellows, you’ll probably never get over its beauty.

When you start giggling to yourself Harry perks up conversation again.

“What?” He asked with a slight giggle himself.

“Just thinking about how if you weren’t a musician you would make a good therapist.” You relay your thoughts to him.

“Oh definitely. I’d be good at any job.” You can’t see it, but Harry smiled down at you because he is happy now that you are.

“Oh really?” You laughed.

“Yeah. Try me.”

“Umm? A chef?”

“Oui oui. I have watched Ratatouille before.”

“Why are you a French chef?” You asked, giggling away the tears.

“Because we’re in the city of love, mon ami.” He laid on a thick English accent to answer your question, making you prod him in his tummy for being so annoying.

“Okay Chef.” This time Harry tickled you in your side instead. “Stop! Okay, um, what about… A firefighter?”

“You just want to see me in my suspenders again.” Harry laughed so loud that people turned to see what was so funny. You buried your head further into his body until your blushed cheeks passed over.

“Do not.” You counter argued.

“Do too. I know you do, because Lambert showed me his texts with you the other day of you demanding he bring the suspenders back to tour.”

“Ugh. He’s such a snitch.”

“Big Brother is watching you.” He referenced.

“Don’t refer to yourself as Big Brother again, you weirdo.” You laughed at him. You go to hit him playfully on his tummy again, but instead Harry caught your hand in his and brought it to his lips to play. He didn’t let it go afterwards, instead he chose to hold it tight.

Both of you go back to silence again, going back to people watching individually.

The sun had gotten lower now and there were more people coming into the city for a night out. You and Harry were going to be cuddled up in bed watching a Disney movie by the time these people enter their first club. The life of an introvert, you, loving and extrovert, Harry, meant you did very introverted activities together.

“Harry?” You asked quietly.

“Yes, m’love.”

“Can I ask you a question? And before you answer, I don’t mean for this question to start an argument between us but I am just genuinely curious.”

“You’ve got me a little worried now, babe, but go on. I trust you.” He replied and you shift a little in your position to gauge his facial expression.

“When you’re in Paris, o-or France for that matter, do you ever think about Camille? Like, do you get sad about her or feel anything?” You breathed out, but continue just as quickly, “Again, I’m not asking to provoke you, but I’m just thinking that someone of her importance in your life must have left an impression on you. Maybe, in turn, making you think about her at times like this?”

As soon as you’d asked your question, a wave of relief rolled off your shoulders. You couldn’t explain how freeing it was to have asked that. It was like that unexplained anxiety from the past few days had come from that question alone.

“Thank you for asking for politely, baby, first of all.” Harry kissed your forehead. “And since you were honest with me, I’ll be honest with you.”

“Okay.” You nodded a bit nervously.

“I do think of her.” He answered the way you were least hoping him to, but let him continue anyways, “But not in the way you think. When I think about her now I am always thinking of you, too. I rarely do think about her, because why would I need to, but sometimes certain moments will take me back and you’ll be there to get rid of those thoughts again.”

“I-I don’t think I understand.” You say.

“It’s like when we went for a coffee run the other morning and you happened to choose the same coffee shop that I’d been to previously with Camille. In that coffee shop, in that moment, all I could think about was how much happier I was to be standing there with you than I had ever been with her ever. I thought about, and still do, how lucky I am to have found someone that loves me just as equally as I love them.” He paused briefly, “So, do I think about her? Yes, but only because I’m reminded of how much more happiness and love and life I have gained from choosing you.”

You stared at him throughout his tiny speech and a little bit afterwards too. His eyes watered at the sight of yours watering - which you could tell even through his sunglasses.

“I need another tissue.” You laughed out through a couple of tears.

Before you could go diving in your bag, Harry cupped your chin with his fingers and drew your mouth close to his. He kissed you so feverishly that you would think it was your last one ever.

He pulled away with a pout, “I love you. I’ll always choose you. It’s you, forever, baby.” He kissed you once more with force. “Always. It’s a promise.

[juyoluvs]

light a candle | l. juyeon

————

☆pairing: single father!juyeon x teacher fem!reader

☆tags: fluff!, slow but not so slow burn, really slight smut, mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of other members, eric is kinda toxic here :)

☆summary: after your last relationship you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t fall in love again but you change your thoughts when you see a little girl and her…very hot dad

disclaimer! all the people on this fic are pure imagination and are fake, they don’t relate to the real people at all.

STATUS: on going! ( 19. 10. 24 )

1 2 。。。

Chapter one

With your head leaning against the window, you watched desolately as nature moved before your eyes, molding itself to your speed-constrained gaze.

The vacations were over for you too and it was time to go back to school.

Lightly you sigh, remembering that now it is no longer you behind a desk listening to some depressed elderly woman tell the same story for the millionth time.

Nope, now on the other side of the classroom there’s you.

And in front of you are not hormone-filled teenagers but rather sweet children with so much curiosity in their hearts and eyes.

Teaching was something that always came naturally to you; ever since you helped your little brothers study by finding nice methods to make studying easier.

Or when your classmates would come begging for you to explain the lesson to them again.

Even explaining cell phone secrets to your grandparents came so well to you that you had ended up teaching the whole neighborhood.

In short, you hadn't chosen that job; it was like destiny, it had chosen you.

Still, going back to school remained the hardest thing of all, in spite of the years gone by.

The 6 a.m. wake-up call, the hurried breakfast and the early morning Parisian traffic were things that you would never get used to, especially after a week of peace in your mom's country home.

In Paris, the cold weather was beginning to set in and, tightly wrapped in your coat, you leaved the car parked in its usual spot, heading quickly for the school entrance, greeting Pierre, the facility's concierge, with a smile.

"Welcome back y/n! A new year begins!" he says in his rough voice worn by the years behind him.

"Good morning Pierre, well yes, it begins for everyone! Have the other teachers arrived yet?" you asked, leaving your coat and hat at the entrance and picking up your work uniform.

At the man's nod you smiled at him and then waved heading to the classroom you shared with another teacher (aka your best friend).

Once you entered the room you crossed the gaze of Vivienne who, as usually, was already chatting with the other teachers.

"y/n!" the girl shouted slightly, making several gestures for you to come closer.

Looking at her confusedly you approached the group, greeting everyone with a smile.

"What are you girls chatting about?" you asked once you arrived.

"About the new children, we have some big names in our appeals this year." one of the teachers, Claire, replied giggling.

You smiled slightly as you heard the girls gossip, letting the everydayness of that laughter cuddle you.

Before long, the first children began to arrive with parents hurriedly tossing them into the hands of the teachers and with a quick kiss and hug running off to work.

Each time these scenes warm your heart, seeing how these children break away from their parents' necks and attach themselves to yours, seeking comfort which they promptly receive.

By now you have learned what each of them likes and how to make them feel secure and loved even without mom or dad.

But in addition to all those familiar little faces and their little hands reaching up to greet you, you caught sight of a new little girl in the distance, all well-dressed and flanked by a tall man in a suit and tie.

Slowly you approached her, seeking the eyes of the little girl, who looked around curiously, holding her little dress in her hands. "Hello! What's your name?" You said once you knelt down in front of her.

The child groped slightly, swallowing animatedly.

"Isa..Isabelle," the little girl said, finally looking up and as she met your gaze you were completely stunned by the beauty that stood before you.

Two almond-shaped blue eyes surrounded by a pair of brown pigtails that were lightly covered by a blue hat.

"Isabelle," you began, smiling at her, "it's a pleasure to meet you! I am y/n, your teacher..." you then looked up at the man next to her who had not yet spoken a word "...is this your daddy?" you asked whispering to the little girl.

She smiled slightly and shook her head, moving those funny braids.

"No! this is Paul! He’s my friend though!" she smiled back at the man next to her, who smiled back and then returned to his composed position.

Slightly confused you stood up turning to him.

"So you are..."

"Miss Isabelle's secretary, ma'am."

"The..the secretary?" You asked confused.

The man nodded.

"Mr. Lee could not be present this morning so I accompanied the young lady."

You nodded slightly, shifting your gaze to the little girl who was now looking at you smiling.

You had seen many busy parents (almost every day) but all of them, at least on the first day of school, went out of their way to be able to wish their children a "good first day."

Letting out a long sigh to bring your mind back to peace you extended my hand to the little girl in front of you.

"Well? Shall we go together?" you asked her smiling to which the little girl responded by taking your hand energetically and, after saying goodbye to Paul, hopped beside you toward the classroom.

Happy first day, I guess?

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

The day passed in the best of ways, the children all introduced themselves to the newcomers and, as taught, managed to integrate them without too much trouble.

You were certainly glad to have such a diligent class.

After several activities and many dances with as many songs, the parents began to come one by one to retrieve their children, who with their little hands smeared with colors happily greeted by shouting a " See you tomorrow Teacher!" to which you happily reciprocated.

And as the classroom emptied there was Isabelle who, now alone, was coloring on a sheet of paper.

Glancing slightly at the clock you noticed that the end of school time had long passed and Vivienne had absented herself to help the other teachers clean the classrooms.

So you approached the little girl, sitting next to her on one of those tiny chairs.

"Isa! How was the first day?" you asked her, taking one of the now undone braids to put it back in order.

The little girl smiled happily as she looked at you.

"Good! I met so many friends! I like it!" she replied before returning back to her drawing.

You smiled as you saw the genuineness with which she happily colored her drawing, with disheveled lines.

The concern for her, however, remained constant within you.

"Should I call someone? I don't even have her parents' phone number..Should I ask her? Oh y/n stop it she is 5 years old what can she know about phone numbers."

The thousand thoughts were interrupted by the little girl's voice.

"Daddy!" she squeaked in her slight voice, getting up in a rush.

"Oh I'm so curious to meet this fool who leaves his daughter with someone-" but the moment you turned you head, your thoughts became cloudy.

And all the words you wanted to say died in your throat, now as dry as the desert.

In front of you, with the child in his arms, stood perhaps one of the most handsome men you had ever seen.

With a height to make models envious and with a face just as heavenly, you could finally understand where Isabelle's sweet face came from.

Trying to tidy yourself up slightly, you approached the two who were chatting on the doorway.

The man, noticing your presence, turned to look at you, and without meaning to, your heart missed a beat.

"Are you this famous teacher y/n?" he asked, smiling at you.

"Yes, yes I am, it's a pleasure" you replied, extending your hand, which was promptly shaken by his.

A too big, too soft and too strong hand.

"Lee Juyeon, Isabelle's father, thank you for helping my daughter today and I’m deeply sorry for the delay, I had several problems at work and could only get free now, I'm really sorry."

Suddenly every bad thought you had had about him was gone.

Only little hearts surrounded your thoughts.

"Oh! No problem really, Isabelle is a lovely child and being with her doesn't get me tired at all." you replied looking at the child as well, giving her a sincere smile.

"Teacher y/n is so nice! She even re-did my braids, look daddy!" the little girl said, taking her braids to show them off.

The man made an astonished face as he played along with the little girl.

"How beautiful sweetie! Surely they came out better than mine" he said laughing slightly.

"No no!" you said putting your hands forward, shaking them "They were gorgeous this morning too, they got slightly messed up during the dancing and I fixed them, nothing more!"

The man in front of you smiled slightly at you before returning his gaze to the little girl who was slightly nodding.

"Alright then, come on Isa, let's free the teacher to go home," he said, leaning her down to let her walk on her own.

"Say goodbye and thank you" he finished by prodding the little girl who turned around making a slight bow in thanks and then shook her little hand in greeting.

"See you tomorrow Teacher!" Isabelle said.

"See you tomorrow Isa!" you replied smiling at her and then turned your gaze to the man next to her.

"See you tomorrow Teacher" he also said smiling and causing you to miss a beat.

"See you tomorrow Mr. Lee" you replied slightly embarrassed by the angelic smile of the man who was now walking away hand in hand with the little girl.

With your hand over your heart you tried to calm the quickening pulse as that gossip girl of Vivienne popped up at your side.

"Damn he's so hot," she only said.

And goddamn he really is.

[mote-historie]

André-Edouard Marty, Sur la digue. Chapeau, de Marthe Collot (On the dike. Hat by Marthe Collot), detail, La Gazette du Bon ton, 1924-1925.

[moonlitmistyforest]

Charles Giron - Femme aux gants, dite La Parisienne (The Woman with Gloves, known as The Parisian Woman) 1883 oil on canvas,  200 x 91 cm Petit Palais

Ready to go out, La Parisienne wears an afternoon dress whose jet embroidery and velvet applications enhance the intense black. The drapes arranged on the hips are inspired by the 18th century pannier dress, the art of which was then brought up to date by great Parisian collectors.

The presence of a gilded wooden console in the rococo style confirms the citation of the century of Louis XV, while the wall decoration of interlacing prefigures the floral sinuosities of Art Nouveau.

Simone Giron, who donated this large painting to the Petit Palais, was very familiar with this work, which her father, Charles Giron, always kept close to him. She states in the monograph devoted to the painter that he had met his model in Ville-d'Avray near Paris and nicknamed him the Black Diamond. It was this portrait of a woman buttoning her long gloves that Giron presented at the annual exhibition of the Société nationale des Beaux-Arts in 1883.

The catalogue of the retrospective exhibition presented at the Museum of Fine Arts in Bern in 1955 gives her the emblematic title of "La Parisienne", which is well suited to this elegant woman with a pretty, mischievous profile, highlighted by the hat covered with black marabou feathers.

Born in Switzerland, Giron, who had trained in Paris in Cabanel's studio, enjoyed his first success at the Salon of 1876. His life was divided between Paris, Geneva and Cannes, then continued in the Swiss Alps where he painted rural scenes and mountain landscapes. His fame spread throughout Europe thanks to the success of his society portraits.

[sketchonista]

Feng Chen Wang SS24 shot at Paris Fashionweek