Don’t mind me I’m just stopping by to wish you a Happy Easter!
I’m being rained on but the photographer has the cutest smile, I have a bag of Choco-bons waiting for me at home, and I’m yet to catch up on Jane The Virgin, whom I’ve been binge watching for the last 3 days. SOLID. (almost, I took a day off to binge drink/eat)
Hope your weekend was as lovely as mine!
– Boots: Ted & Muffy
– Coat: Stevie May
– Jeans: Topshop (old) – similar
– Jumper: Zara (old)
This was a tricky one. Stepping into so much truth felt daunting.
God I dreaded the publication of this video, but like most things I get nervous about, it turned out to be liberating, freeing. You’ll see me writing more on here, enough with the fashion fluff, these are the sods I want to use to grow, and to help anyone who can relate to grow with me too.
I was telling you in my last update that I felt like a Brit who just happened to have a French accent. Truth is, first i’m not a fan of my accent, and if it wasn’t for people telling me it was cute, I would hate it even more. I don’t feel French, this accent is almost like a burden and it reminds me of the struggle it was to try to fit.
When StyleLikeU asked me to take part in the first episode of their first international edition, I was overwhelmed with flattery and pride.
But how could I possibly have anything interesting to say? Wait. People keep telling me that I come across so sure of myself and confident. Are you joking?! I’m slowly claiming power over my person back, I am finally realizing that I am what’s underneath and not these layers of bullshit people obsessed with boxes have tried to pin on me. (Freddie. Unleashed)
I didn’t grow up French, I became French when I crossed the UK border with my thick Parisian twang. But growing up black in France (and i’m sure in lots of other places) will tie your tongue so tight you forget you even have a voice to start with. Talking about racism is so taboo in France. And I guess everywhere. I don’t understand why some white people get so personally offended when you start on the subject. Just look at the comments section of the Guardian Facebook page: every time it is about racism, a bunch of white people are quick to claim that it is talking about races that makes things worse.
Some say they are colorblind. Being colorblind is nothing more than white privilege. I am not colorblind, and to be fair, no one needs to be colorblind. The problem is not to see colours, the problem is to set a hierarchy within them. Black is not a dirty word, the same way that white isn’t.
I was telling you briefly about the horrific experience I had with my ex French close friends, I remember one of them telling me in our last conversations that I was obsessed with racism and that it didn’t exist anymore (this is partly why I was so scared of this video coming out, odd what someone who is no longer a friend can do to you right?) Trust me, I barely talk about racism. I know better, I am French. I try to mingle and disappear in the crowd (my bright style came to me after I moved to London, if you’re wondering), but one mention of discrimination and you become a problem. That’s why I was so nervous about this video, I didn’t want to come across needy, moany, ungrateful (don’t ask me for what, but I’ve been told many times than necessary that if it hadn’t been for France I would have died of starvation already) I’m not used to step in so much truth.
I haven’t wished to visit France again since some of my bridesmaids, including my witness, tried to sabotage my wedding and wrote to Tom on the first day of our honeymoon, as we landed in Bali, to tell him he had no clue about the woman he had just married. No, it is the contrary. I’ve never been myself more than since I left Paris 5 years ago. I left its negativity, I left its narrow mind and bloomed and bloomed like a plant on GMO. I am in my truth, I probably saw these girls 6-7 times in these past 5 years, we used to be miserable together, share our miserable love stories together, our miserable work lives together. We used to keep each other in our misery, but then I stepped out and grew, embarked on a life I designed for myself with great friends and a great life partner and things went tits up. I no longer fitted with them, and what do you do to misfits? Especially misfits with a large social following with countless amazingly positive and supportive comments? You bully them, you want to see the end of them. The fact that they told me “you’ve changed, you forgot where you come from and who your real friends are” still baffles me today, and the fact that it was the reason of their anger and why they put so much effort into trying to ruin day 2 of our wedding along with our honeymoon?! Speechless.
Who was I expected to be after almost 5 years?! What’s the point of so much work?! Remaining the same person?! Unfortunately, I have little time for that. Allow me to reintroduce myself: Hi, I’m Freddie.
You don’t get to pick and choose, I come as whole. The girl who left Paris would have been friend with anyone who would have deemed her worthy of their friendship. That’s what my former gang was made of: girls who took an insecure and desperate girl under their wing, someone else to be frustrated and miserable with. That’s why I hammer that message everywhere: WATCH who you surround yourself with. I have the best friends in the world now, and grew into an adult I love beyond everything. I do love myself, I’m not ashamed to say it. But I had to surround myself with inspiring people to get there.
I was so nervous to receive my wedding photos, because they were on there along with my other bridesmaids. But now I look at these photos smiling: on one single shot you have my insecure and sad past, the beautiful present, and the promising future. Watch me grow. And if you’re not keen on this show, look away cause nothing is going to stop me mama 🙂
In this video, I briefly explained what it was to grow up black in Paris. Until the age of 10, I was unaware of the limits people will attribute to my origins, to the tone of my skin. Until the age of 10 I thought I could be anything, do anything but then I quickly stepped out of this mindset and made myself sick to my stomach imagining all the physical and economical changes I would have to make to even begin to dream slightly bigger. I was 11 the first time I wished I was dead, I remember trying to drown myself in my parents’ bath, only to learn soon that your body, unlike you, will fight such a situation. I never thought I’d live past 18, no way would I bear life for so long. I was black, therefore I wasn’t smart, I was ugly. I remember telling everyone I wanted to be a neurosurgeon, I can’t even bear the sight of blood, but that would prove them I was smart – wouldn’t it? I’d ask my mum for blonde braids mixed with the black ones, just so I could flaunt blonde strands like my friends. I also remember pretending I was West Indian, and not African. Because if you’re from the French West Indies, you’re not the child of an immigrant. You’re almost just as French, not quite at all, but closer. Immigrant, this dirty word we save for non-white people. A white person moving country is an expat. I was the daughter of dirty immigrants.
And another note, I’m on a flight from Geneva where I bought the latest French magazines. And the same thing again happens as I look through the French Glamour (haven’t picked up the others yet): not a sight of a black girl. No Asian girl, no mixed-race girl, only white girls. I won’t bother reading it, I’ll wait till I land in London and grab a copy of a local magazine where we all are represented. You know what’s funny? I hear that I’m on today’s Metro UK cover…
I feel so much lighter since this video came out. I was already feeling valid, smart and beautiful. But this video is a farewell to my Frenchness, and an ode to my blackness.
Allow me to introduce myself AGAIN: HI, I AM FREDDIE.
Hope you enjoy it!
Phew. I’m writing this from my aisle seat on a flight from Geneva to London. This last couple of weeks have been ridiculous. I actually like the feeling of the seatbelt that I fastened really tight, not because I’m scared to fly, but because feeling put feels amazing right now. Can we take a break, please? I feel like I’ve been running around like a mad cow, so being stuck 7 miles above ground suddenly feels incredible.
If you read my last update, I was telling you how I’m going to share more on here, take you through the makings of Freddie as I go. I’m surfing womanhood, it’s a beautiful thing, but let me pack you guys along with me. Reading about other women makes me feel like we’re a gang, so if my babbling feels like a hang or at least takes your mind off its 99 problems, jump in – we’re in this together mama!
I now officially live between London and Geneva. Tom started a job last week there, it all happened very quickly – had you told me about it 2 months ago, I would have thought of a joke. But look, he never applied for it, they simply wanted him (can’t possibly blame them!) and it was a lifetime opportunity. I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am for him; how beautiful it is to watch your favourite person in the world reap the magic they’ve been sowing. He’s such a kind and ridiculously smart person, but also the best support I could ever dream of. I’d follow him to the other side of the planet if he wanted me to. So Geneva it is, but don’t rule me out as a Londoner, I’m still a jewel of a crown and will keep jetting back and forth.
Emotionally speaking, it’s been a hell of a rollercoaster. I had never been to Geneva until a quick 12 hours stop in January (and this last week), and the remaining of the obnoxious Parisian left in me led the rest of me to believe that it was a dead place, like a Ricola advert (only the French and Swiss will get that one). How wrong was I. But despite the lack of interest for what turns out to be an amazing place, I was still game! I genuinely believe in signs; I think that we all are surrounded with great opportunities. They float around us like dust in the air, and with the right attitude, we can grab the best among them and turn them into magic. I’m attached to London, but I’m not from here (been here for 5 years on the 31st – happy anniversary to me!) so leaving is not as hard for me as it would be for a true local. I like to be pulled in weird directions, probably because I constantly need things to stress about (I need to justify my daily wine intake you see). Plus, I remember being obsessed with the video game The Sims when it came out, I begged my friend to burn me a copy (60 euros for a video game was something my mother couldn’t get down with at the time, and I can’t blame her, there was a lot of us at home) and would spend hours designing lives for my various virtual families. Geneva is the chance to meet new Freddies, and I spent hours walking around the city imagining what life could be here.
BUT, in an ideal world, I would just focus on the bright side. It’s not an ideal world (tried to build one in The Sims but failed there too – turns out their houses can burn down in a blink of an eye if you don’t teach them how to cook) and I’m also having a hard time coming to terms with it. I’ve finally just started to feel like London is my home: my best friends are here, my husband is from here, I know most bus routes, I love a dirty pub, and I say “sorry” way more than I should really. I’m a Brit (although I can’t do pork scratchings, these are plain vile I’m sorry) I just happen to have a French accent.
So this whole thing, along with the two new projects I’m trying to get off the ground by next month (you guys wait), have been driving me slightly crazy. I feel completely overwhelmed and caught myself, more than once, humming and rocking my head side to side (Beyoncé style) as an unconscious way to try to remain sane. I feel like I’m disappointing a lot of people at the moment, I’m behind so many emails and deadlines (barely had Wi-Fi for the last 8 days), and can’t seem to find the right help.
I had found an intern after advertising a position on here, and despite asking people to not apply if they were not serious, she turned out to be a huge deception, turning up an hour late on her first day, not turning up on the second day because she had a driving lesson (!), or the third day because she apparently didn’t know it was full time, to finally quit over email on the 7th day, after going quiet ever since the 3rd day, as I was boarding my flight to Geneva. In the end I had to delay the whole production and launch calendar of said new project.
But they say that’s where the lessons lie, so I guess – silver linings and all that – the last few weeks taught me:
- I can be very naïve. I’m not always a good judge of character, and I know I’m too nice. BUT that’s absolutely fine! Finding like-minded people to work with is just like love really, it can take time but when you do, magic happens;
- I look around too much. Tunnel vision is a bliss (confidence kick video coming soon, because I’ve just learned that that one is a must my friend) Looking at what others do is a distraction, and not the good kind (try Snickers, they’re a better kind) There’s only one like me, no one can be better at being Freddie than me: I got this;
- I am a superwoman, but it doesn’t mean I can do it all and I should stop assuming that people are going to be disappointed with me if I fail a work deadline or miss a text. Plus, based on the average number of WhatsApp messages I get a day, I doubt anyone has the mind space for my late text – or for yours, for that matter. I should simply admit to people that I’m overwhelmed and that I need more time (if I owe you an email or a text and that you are reading this – here’s a mea culpa, but bear with me)
And to illustrate this new mind-set, I’m channelling a very confident and powerful Freddie with this denim jumpsuit of dreams. I went for the highest heels I had at home but the flares were still too long (bear that in mind if you go for this beaut) – still I remember I was feeling like a million dollar when we shot this outfit, I couldn’t help but looking smug then got embarrassed (I’m a terrible poser, more of a smiler); Tom went “babe don’t worry, it’s working!”
First thing first, Happy Women’s Day ! It’s our day everyday, don’t get me wrong, but yesterday we are aaaaall they talked about 😉
I can’t begin to tell you how life changing starting SHE Unleashed has been. I really love this workshop, I genuinely built it around my own experience, featuring all these tips and hacks that helped me and still do, along the years. Introducing it to women, hearing their feedback, sharing my stories, hearing their stories. It’s such a beautiful thing. It’s like a very fun, long-lasting healing process. A sort of group healing affair 😉
But anyway, thanks to this venture, I met so many women, and I’m just obsessed with womanhood now. Sisterhood. Since I’ve been invited to several panels, and every time I just meet more amazing women. I now can’t seem to part with this idea that we are totally, completely, ABSOLUTELY limitless. Especially when together! By the way, The Lifestyle Edit and SHE Unleashed are working on some magic for you, the aim being to hang out with you guys even more! And red wine fuelled evening work dates make the prep even more fun!
Anyway. Yesterday morning I was invited by Bobbi Brown, the charity Smart Works (they provide high quality interview clothes for low income & out-of-work women – check them out) for the #PrettyPowerful campaign (you want to check that one too!It’s a partnership with Girls Rising). Megababe Clara Amfo was there and gave me the warmest hug, I also met Rebekah Staton (Raised by Wolves), Thomasina Miers (co-founder of Wahaca) and the amazing Laura Trott (Team GB cycling gold medal). We all wrote down mantras to share, some women read out some poetry so there I was, 8:30 in the morning, rocked by some powerful Maya Angelou.. All of a sudden, I just felt this warmth in my whole body, as my eyes swept around the room: we were this bunch of women, all in the same room, from different walks of life, different ages, origins; just taken aback by this beautiful moment – it just got me emotional.
Until I got bitter (because I always do, don’t I?) and thought of how much we pick on each other (I’ll tell you in a minute what actually got me thinking about this) when really there’s room for every each and single one of us to grow, to bloom and to shine. I shared this message yesterday on Instagram, so you might have read it already, but I also got to thinking that if you ever feel jealous of a woman, you just simply befriend her. There’s obviously something that she has that intrigues you; befriend her when possible (quick note to self: stalking Beyoncé doesn’t count!), breathe her magic and share yours…
And maybe you noticed but yesterday I also took over LIKEtoKNOW.it’s Instagram account. If you don’t know it, it’s a very cool shopping and story-telling account where if you initially subscribe on their website, receive the links to the different pieces of the outfits you just liked on their page. It’s also how you can shop my looks on Instagram, every time you see #likeit in the caption: just like it, to know it 😉
They offered me to take over their page for International Woman’s day to share the SHE Unleashed message to their followers, I was so flattered. It was quite intense, they featured 10 photos throughout the day (Tom and I had to shoot most of it on Sunday, what would I do without him??). I received sooo many lovely comments, and you know I’m not one to really dwell on the negative, but I’ve come to realise that maybe it’s also because I don’t, actually, have to deal with a lot of negative comments or mean people. Everyone has always been so lovely to me online. But on there there was some comments that were rather hurtful; and you know me by now, I never expect people to agree with my sometimes-very-crazy style (that fluffy jumper and bright pink bag didn’t go down well) my point being, you do what you want without caring about what other may think, but some people were pretty open about their disapproval. What I couldn’t seem to understand though, is how some women can’t refrain themselves from slagging other women off, even on Women’s Day (why don’t you take a day off love?), especially when the captions were messages of positivity, self-love and confidence.
But on the bright side, the vast majority of responses has been lovely and most of all, I ended up very proud. Many women commented and/or emailed me telling me how happy they were to see that much of a woman of colour on this page, when their feed is usually much less diverse. And actually, and it’s quite funny, some people fell challenged by it asking why was I getting so much attention and why so many photos of me were published, when the takeover is something they do every-single-Tuesday, with 10 photos too.
I guess that some of us visually stand out more, that’s what ahah!
I was so proud that I made some black women represented, therefore beautiful and valid, on such a special day. There’s no such thing as universal beauty standards. We all have our own beauty standards, and the message is getting across. More brands are getting it: we are powerful (we sell too!!!) and beautiful too!
And you know, I count my blessings because I’m very much lucky! I work, befriend and meet with all different types of women, with who I get to tackle confidence and self-love issues (remember the group healing affair aforementioned?), heavily tapping into the beauty of womanhood. But I also get to make my fellow black sisters feel represented, beautiful, THERE. Part of it.
Happy Women’s Day darling! YOU. GOT. THIS.
And because it’s our day everyday and we’re being less and less apologetic about being much more than what is expected from our gender, I decided to briefly switch and went full on cool-dude with my outfit; channelling my inner 20 something Jean-Claude (my Papa! Aka the coolest dude in the room), for pure radness purpose really.
Lots of love,