I remember the first time I heard this expression. It was in New York, in the gritty but chic apartment—typical downtown loft, elevator opening into the living room, absolutely no light in the bedrooms whatsoever, tear jerking rent each month—I was sharing with an ex of mine who won’t be named*.
He was talking to me about my personal brand, and I was still so French (I’m not anymore. I am an odd blend of different cultures) that I was huffing and puffing and rolling my eyes all the way to our tin ceiling because this concept was way too pedestrian for the refined woman that I was.
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