Pour être français: a typically British whinge

Oh (not an exclamation but a breathy moan) to be French. Not just for the manicured nails, the continental breakfasts, the accent. For the love of simplicity, of composure, of not bowing to social pressure (what am I basing this on?).

I would like so many things, I yearn for beautiful clothes, white washed furniture and a stand alone bath tub. For silk lingerie, the willpower to stick to just ONE frosted, palatable glass of prosecco, for a calling - not just to earn money, but to enjoy doing it, so that I may swan off to Paris for long weekends and for no one to notice. To live a life of quiet anonymity adorned with Gallic androgyny; draping blazers, brogues, cigarette pants to mimic the cigarette artfully tucked between my lips.