Last week Garance sent out her first NEW newsletter. We decided to re-post it below because we know some of you missed it!
But we will not be making this a habit so to not miss any of the upcoming newsletters subscribe HERE. Enjoy!
Thank you very, very, very much.
Yesterday I post on my Instagram my new idea of publishing a newsletter. I didn’t know any of you would be that overjoyed. Relax! It’s just me. Sometimes I am very funny, sometimes I am very deep, like way way way deep and I get on my keyboard like Alicia Keys on her piano I and create little literary miracles. Nothing to get too excited about.
Or so I thought, I mean.
But then you got all excited and I got an overwhelming response and a million followers on the first hour, Barack Obama texting me and Gal Gadot singing Imagine she was so excited about the news, I re-read the newsletter I was about to send to you and you know, it felt like when you go out and you’re like, OH SHIT, WRONG OUTFIT?
I mean right now it’s more OH SHIT, WRONG SWEATPANTS, but you know the feeling.
So as I used to do in my fashion week days, I turned around on the spot and got back to my closet to change. Aka I am writing a totally new newsletter that’s more shiny and ironed than the first one. It will prove in the end to be a terrible choice but it will be too late, Tommy Ton will have published my photo and it will be recorded on the web for eternity. I know. SO bad.
So thank you for challenging me with your love and grandiose expectations, it made me feel so important this could be the moment I send you a message of hope for the human race being in this together. From my LA mansion.
But I’ve got a plot twist for you.
I am NOT in my LA mansion cooking perfect meals while saving the world through my charity work while doing a kundalini chant to raise our vibration and HIIT class because this body won’t stay hot on its own. Nope!
You won’t guess where I am.
I am in New Zealand.
Why, G, why.
Can’t you stay in one place.
Can’t you stop.
We were just getting used to being in LA.
You had a HOUSE for fuck’s sake. It was NICE!
Are the questions I ask myself. And here is the answer.
That’s because I thought, is there a place where I can get further away from my family?
Naaah kidding mom I love you (and I know you haven’t subscribed to my newsletter yet).
Event though my theory IS that anybody that lives that far from their family IS practicing a sort of healthy self-isolation that’s not a bad thing per say, it’s just A THING that’s interesting to note and to write in a very small font in text that has nothing to do with that. Raise your hand discreetly if you agree.
No, but HERE is the real reason :
I am going to try to say this very fast so we don’t make it a thing cause I am worried in the past I overshared some stuff and it came back to bite my in the butt what with all my life crumbling and all in the recent years (it was a beautiful disaster, and gave me a book that’s on the verge of exploding off of me, cue image of Alicia Keys on her piano et all, but still a disaster) so I promised myself that I would observe discretion —> in two words I met someone and he, well, he lives in New Zealand, sorta.
Of course I wanna tell you everything about how we met and how awesome he is but NOPE, G, hold on to your newfound principles of privacy. Phhhhh, phhhhh, phhhh. It’s hard. Gah!
So he had told me he lived in LA but then I discovered it was all a manipulation and decided I was cool with being manipulated by him, which, Esther Perel would agree, is basically the definition of love. How’s that for a short explanation?
I don’t live in New Zealand at all, but I’ll sure be isolating there long enough to wonder. Lulu’s good, don’t worry. I miss her but she is in loving hands.
WHERE WAS I GOING WITH THIS. Oh yeah, I am in New Zealand, well, in a house in New Zealand, with two children and a man and I am happy as can be in these trying times.
I haven’t seen any parts of that beautiful country except for the lovely front yard with a view. I do spend a lot of time in the kitchen cooking extremely rich foods, those foods with lots of cream and butter and love in them, and then trying to offset the cream and butter (but not the love) by doing yoga and running like my life depended on it.
Kiwis, if you’ve seen a crazy woman running up and down the islands, don’t worry, it’s me.
Keep your distance!!!
My anti-fattening plan is not working by the way, so I am going to have to move to plan B (maybe let’s make plan B another newsletter cause I have no idea what plan B is yet) and please do not tell me to accept my curves because of body positivity. I respect body positivity, and I accept my curves very well, it’s my curves who don’t wanna accept new curves, they’re like hey we were here first so we’re on lockdown. What can I do?
I have many thoughts about this new virussy world we live in and many thanks to give to all of us who do something else than sitting on their asses freaking out, watching the news raising our hands in the air, saying it’s the end of the world while sharing our workouts on Instagram.
I almost did share my workouts on Instagram and be careful, you could still be attacked by a video of me in my Lululemons anytime, we don’t know what these weeks of quarantine will make of us. Maybe YOGA TEACHERS?
So. Get a grip, people (=me). This is not the moment to freak out.
This is the moment for chocolate cakes* and the moment to applaud the health workers who are out there and have no choice but to NOT freak out.
And I think if there is anything I can do for us today, as a community, is to say that, well – we are a community. So, we are not alone.
And that is the primary goal of my newsletter. Kinda tell you where I am. Get together with you. Just me and you. Like in the old days, but without my terrifying heels or Anna Wintour** looming in the background. Support, love, soothe each other in a loving way.
And as I feel that this quarantine is going to be lasting a liiiiittle bit longer than our mental health is able to withstand, and as you know that mental health is my number one preoccupation since I lost mine a couple years ago (I think I found it again, but I’ll let you be the judges), I don’t want to give you advice because I trust you’ve got this shit, but I want to tell you I am here.
And I’d love to get with you on a chat, maybe on Instagram since it looks like we all are there. There, if you want, I’ll give some advice, take some from you, share cream and butter recipes, have a glass of wine (though my time zone is SO FAR OFF that if I really wanna have a glass of wine at the same time as most of you it would be wine for breakfast)(I am considering dear reader, I am considering) and, I don’t know, get together.
Main idea : fend off anxiety, feelings of loneliness and of end of the worldness.
How is Monday at 3.30 EST? I’d love to. I have done that very rarely so it’s going to be maybe messy, but that’s how I like things. In case you forgot here is my Instagram page.
In the meantime, have a lovely quarantine, do not freak out, we WILL ALL end up 10 kilos heavier, broke and crazy but who knows, maybe we’ll be happier for it?
PS : By the way, you can write back to this newsletter it’s me receiving the emails (I KNOW!!!) so BE NICE***
PPS : It’s just me here, I don’t have anybody editing or translating or sending or doing whatever (okay Emily might have seen the draft but that’s it) so just remember that when you see typos or very weird use of the english language.
* Here is my dad’s (his name is Louis, if you insist I’ll post a photo of him next time) chocolate cake recipe, it’s so easy and fast its ridiculous and dangerous.
200 grams chocolate (sorry we’re French idk how many cups that is)(BUY GOOD CHOCOLATE)
200 grams butter (the man is not afraid)
200 sugar (to be honest I’d but less, like do 150, or even 100 if you like to suffer your chocolate like me)
100 grams flour.
4 eggs and bake for 25mn and don’t be scared to take it out of the oven before it feels cooked.
** Yes absolutely she was looming. I liked her looming. It gave the whole thing gravitas.
*** Only kind things by the way. I want this to be a place of peace where I don’t get attacked whatever I say or do (Yes I am looking at you Instagram comments) leaving me terrorized and small and politically correct and boring. I will be very very very clear on that, meaning unsubscribe anyone that is not friendly because I have a strong feeling that one of the reasons I stopped writing is because of the insanely awful comments I was getting)(we all get them, they’re part of life, it doesn’t mean they’re not painful and crippling). All right, got to get back to my cauliflower gratin! Big kiss!