So what, if not “dating,” is this mysterious pastime that they are all partaking in? The other day, I asked a Parisian girlfriend what she typically wears on dates.After the usual “what is a date” debate (I often feel like bursting out in a Shakespearean “What’s in a name? That would be pretending.” This, right here, is the French attitude in a nutshell.
The vibe is something like: “My sweater belongs to my ex, and I’m not wearing a bra.
My lips might be red because I was making out all night, but you will never know.” The New Yorker will always have a more calculated approach when dressing for a date. After all, this is one of the most competitive cities in the world, populated with spoiled men of unreasonably high standards and expectations.