How Mischa Barton, Britney Spears, and Lindsay Lohan helped this writer accept the false promises of “French girl beauty”—and herself.
handbags in lieu of backpacks, and a discreet Chanel wallet or vintage Cartier watch punctuated by the radical touch of a side part. Their logos were hushed, and only identifiable to a trained eye, and their bodies were naturally thin, like the French icons of the day.
One day, I was finally ready to transform into this version of myself. I arrived at school hidden under a big puffer jacket, which I took off in the “smoking room” . Underneath my heavy outerwear was a visible thong, a push-up bra peeking out from a spaghetti-strap top inscribed with the word
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