Next Friday, The Cousin is marrying his lady who will thenceforth be known as Mrs. Cousin.
In honor of the blessed event (and me getting to rock some serious shoes) a new purse is needed, as well as a new shirt for The Husband (much less important obviously).
And it turned out that The Husband’s friend (and hetero life partner), Gatz, needed a suit, and a whole lot of help (homeboy needs A LOT of help), so we invited him to join us on our shopping trip.
Gatz was delighted. Being single, he actually values my style counsel.
The Husband told Gatz that we would be shopping in Aix-en-Provence;
“But I don’t want to go to Aix, I want to shop in Marseille”.
And then The Husband phoned to let me know that Gatz wanted to go shopping in Marseille instead;
“So? And since when are you married to Gatz?”
That being settled, we went shopping in Aix.
Love Aix.Â
(I’d love it more if there was a Starbucks there)
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Turns out that bringing one of The Husband’s friends shopping is a great idea. They went off and left me in peace. No huffing and puffing. It was a huffing and puffing free shopping environment as I strolled around Zara.Â
Being in such a peaceful enviroment, I was able to find the clutch and some shorts and a tunic in record time. Less than thirty minutes into our shopping excursion I was finished.Â
I’m a shopping rock star.
I pointed out how effective my shopping skills are minus Gallic huffing and puffing to The Husband. This was met with an international eye roll.Â
Next, we found The Husband’s shirt. A fitted light blue that makes his eyes pop. I swooned. Swooned, I did (he really is a handsome devil).Â
And then, It took Gatz almost two hours to buy his suit. In one shop. Two hours, in one shop! He shops like an old woman.Â
There was major huffing and puffing. This made me happy, especially when The Husband told me that shopping with me was easier.Â
“See, aren’t you glad you didn’t marry Gatz?”
Gatz’s beautiful Hugo Boss suit purchased (picked out by yours truly) and shopping finished, there was only one thing to do…
Nothing like having a Guinness in an Irish pub in France while watching Australian rules football.Â
(I settled on a glass of Rosé after the waitress told me they couldn’t make a Bloody Mary because they didn’t have vodka. Cue international eye roll)
We met The Cousin and soon to be Mrs. Cousin for lunch…
The Cousin was carrying a man bag.Â
(Loads of men in the south of France do this. The Husband does not. Â Sometimes it’s the little things in life that make me very happy. Like The Husband not carrying a purse).
And The Husband, The Cousin, and Gatz all ordered the same thing for lunch…
{raw meat and raw egg… gross}
And in this wonderful day of shopping, drinking in Irish pubs, and eating raw meat, I’m sure you are all thinking the same thing…
What about Fifty?
Fifty spent the day with Honey Jr.
Honey Jr took Fifty to the bar.
You just know he was using Fifty to try and pick up the ladies.
bisou
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It's Me, Sara Louise 
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