I have a friend who is so incredibly Parisian that you have to love her for it. My copine is the kind of Parisian who wears scarves when the weather dips below 80 so that she does not attraper froid. She buys only quality clothing such as wool sweaters and leather boots that she painstakingly shines on a monthly basis. My Parisian copine wears Coco Chanel lipstick and only the finest lingerie and attends art exhibitions at the Pompidou Centre and the Musée d'Orsay every weekend. She is an intellectual from the 6th arrondissement and frequents bookstores to search for her favorite authors.
But what I really love about her is this: despite her Parisian air, she also orders pints at the pub, rolls her own cigarettes and laughs ridiculously loud in public. Her hair is always half-done and she likes to make a mess of it and laugh at herself. Her English is also impeccable.
She is the most Parisian and un-Parisian of them all.