Dear Readers, I think you’d be proud of me. I made it to the Cannes Film Festival, and I repped San Marcos so hard. Some of you might remember the summer I taught at Texas State and challenged myself to incorporate a swimsuit into my “teacherwear” every single day. The students loved my fun little attempts at river-ready fashion, where I could transition directly from hot professor to melting pedestrian to sweltering mermaid desperate for a 72-degree plunge.
Well, I took those same lessons with me to Cannes, France, rocking off-offoff red carpet looks infused with Mediterranean Sea-ready one-piece swimsuits. #crushedit I quickly realized: You can take the girl outta San Marcos, but you can’t take the San Marcos outta that girl. I did not blend in with the Hollywood elites, botox babes and vocal fry fratties galore. I stood out like a petite sore thumb, confidently weaving through the crowds in cut-off jorts, sandals and vintage beachwear.
I did bring an LBD with me — that’s a little black dress, for those unfamiliar with one of the most essential staples in a woman’s wardrobe. And where did I find this gem? On the ground in Porto a couple years back, near a trash can overflowing with fashion misfits. This dress is magic: It crumples into a bag and never wrinkles. As I packed her up, I whispered, “Girl, you are about to fulfill your destiny.” She was born to shine.
My trip was fully funded by a film producer who asked me to come help talk up their work. Fancy, right? I felt like a VIP even if I didn’t have an official badge to enter the festival. It was limiting, for sure, but not completely exclusionary. And if I’ve learned anything from the 78666, it’s that some of the coolest experiences happen at the unofficial events. I was honored for the opportunity and happy to ride the wind wherever it carried me.
French men kept approaching me on the street, asking me out. One asked, “May I know you later tonight?” and I laughed so hard at his biblical phrasing and boldness. Another ran across the street to ask me to dinner. And I know this sounds like bragging, mostly because it is. It felt like a dream. I wasn’t
