Mirror Mirror..

For some reason, I look better in the mirror in the loo in Maryse's flat than I did in any of the mirrors in England. Why is this? The light in Paris is better? The mirror quality is superior? No, I think it is the reflected image of how each culture sees itself, and I am recipient of said imaging. Bare with me...or indulge me, either one.
In England, I look British. I am not trying assimilate, it just seems to happen every time I go there. My hair tends to take on a fluffy, fly-away Anglo style, my clothing hangs a little bit dowdier, and my fashions sense leans towards suitable dark colors. When I walk about the lanes of town and village, I blend. I don't look American, or USian, or Northwest/Seattle any more. The blue jeans give way to a nice black skirt and top, with dark tights and flats. Not to say the Brits do not wear jeans, they do. In fact blue jeans are the international garb of the masses, worn in almost every country of the world, mostly by men, but often by women. No, it is that I am at that age where you give it go, try to look somewhat pulled together, with a modicum of style. Only, the style is defiantly British. When I look in the mirror in the morning, the image that looks back is a history of my ancestry, warts and all. And my age shows, just as it does on most of women I pass in Briton who are  the same age  as me. Sensible, but still a bit of longing to be free of that sensibility, to indulge ourselves. That is seen by the wearing of more up-to-date fashions, but defiantly in the proper age range. The older you are, the more sensible your cloths became and I notice that there is a style among those in their elderly years. The skirts are longer and cut on the bias, so as to flare at about mid calf, the shoes are very practical and the handbags become utilitarian pocketbooks.
But how does this reflect the refection that I seen in the mirror when in the UK? It is the way the British see themselves: enduring, endeavoring, soldering on and making do. The glamor is left for the young, or the wealthy or those with no taste (Saturday evenings in York display an array of over the top fashions donned by women of a certain age who should know better...in a word, tacky).  And it is true that the farther north you go, the more this idea of glamor seems to take on strange and unflattering aspects. In London, of course, the fashion can be very upmarket and stylish. But still, the overwhelming  costume of women, both young and old on the streets of London is dark tights with shoes to match, a dark skirt and a suitable mackintosh or Burbury coat, topped of with a nice scarf. But I digress.
What it all boils down to is a country that has endured the ravages of war, social change, immigration and history coming to the 21st century questioning what it means to be British, but finding it in the very steadfast way they imagine themselves, a motto of "Keep calm and carry on." And when I am in that atmosphere, I seem to take on those attributes as I look in the mirror.
Paris, (and France) is a different kettle of bouillabaisse or poisson if you are a purist. When I look in the mirror here, I seem to take on a slightly more Gallic tint. There is no way on God's green earth that I will every pass for french, or at least Parisian. Too many Anglo features which include a wide behind and thighs that match. But what I do see is a younger me, a less ravaged me, a me with more composure. My make-up goes on smoothly, my hair lies in more stylish coiffure and the scarf I toss about my neck, at least in my reflection, lands in a pleasant french twist. When I go out onto those grand boulevards of Paris, I play "spot the American" and am almost always correct. American women try so hard to be stylish in Paris. They wear the scarfs about their necks, with the bright colored cardigans. But as you journey from neck to feet, you see the dead give away: the shoes are almost always either walking shoes, track shoes or some kind of hefty boot. Americans are practical, and as stylish as they may try to appear, they will never look french because of this. The clothes are always crisp, clean, and smart. I don't look American because I always bring the wrong shoes. My feet may look french, but they also hurt after a while. Yet, I have found, in Paris, the best way to blend is to not try to. So I put on my clothes, toss my scarf, slip on my flats and head out. And most of the time, I am taken for french, not because I look french as much as I don't look like anything else. And the reflection of myself in this culture is what the french are good at. Looking like they don't care what they look like, only looking extremely good at the same time. It is the way they carry themselves. The French are proud race; with much to be proud of. The way of life as it was in the past (globalization is changing this, unfortunately) and  much envied by us work-aholic americans: thirty hour work weeks, two hour lunches, an entire month off in August, the best wine, food and cheese in the world, the most beautiful capital in the world, the core of the fashion world and so on. To this end, there is no reason to take extra time, effort or mindfulness to look good. You just do because you are french. You put on your jeans over your skinny behind, toss on a baggy, but fashionable sweater, wrap a scarf about your neck and grab your over sized handbag and presto, you are incroyable! But, I don't manage this level of incredible. I mange passable and that is fine with me.
I don't think there are any other countries in which I could manage to reflect the culture with some modicum of success as I do in the U.K. and France.  This may be because I have spent so much time in both places, or because I have friends in both places. I don't know for sure. What I do know is that I relate very strongly with the British, but admire the savior faire of the french and so am able to capture a bit of the culture, the essence of what I see reflected in the mirror. But, the mirror could be reflecting what I want to see, as I do find by the end of the day, I am hopelessly American.