Ms. de la Fressange’s life has not always been perfect. It turned tragic in 2006, when her husband, the Italian businessman Luigi d’Orso, died of a heart attack. She refers to the current love of her life, Denis Olivennes, a media executive, as her “fiancé,” even though they are not engaged. “ ‘Boyfriend’ sounds so childish, ‘partner’ sounds like a business. I guess I could call him, ‘the man I often see in the bedroom in the evening.’ ”
Denis Olivennes, in case you've forgotten, used to run the FNAC, then took over Le Nouvel Obs, and now heads Europe1 for Lagardère. Connected, quoi! So it's no wonder that "Ms. de la Fressange" somehow managed to get the Times to shill for her preposterous style guide. American Francophobia ceases to be a mystery when you realize that Americans are fed a steady diet of this kind of pap:
The perfect Parisienne never uses soap on her face or wears pink on her lips or goes out without makeup, even on weekends. She never buys long-stemmed flowers (too difficult to find a suitable vase), but likes to eat (“Rest assured, I do know a few size 4s.”). She washes her hair every morning. Asked if she feels like the perfect Parisienne, she replied, “Perfection is a nightmare. A great French wine would be nothing without the taste of the oak barrel or a touch of dust.”Gag. Blech. Aargh.