When you have an apartment in Paris and your dog is the size of a fruit fly you demand serious respect. You also get a lot of free stuff. Cheese balls, Birkins, stuff like that. Yesterday I was hurling myself around Fauchon looking for the perfect Madeline for a namesake soiree, and a woman noticed Tarte aux Pommes in my wallet and threw her Louboutins at me. LOBBED them. Tears in both our eyes.
Parisian dogs love to get dressed up. They understand the art of suffering in the name of fashion. One of Tarte’s favorite outfits is the little Alpine girl. I love it because it scores me roughly 25 macarons. He also loves posing in tiny tea cups and getting dyed and sheared to look like a miniature panda bear. Pretty much anything goes, really. Michael Jackson is one of his favorites. I bring him out at parties when I’m really desperate and he always delivers. Salut, loves. -M
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