The Devil Worked for Prada

Have you ever walked past a book shop and was captivated by the cover of a book so much that you bought it on the spot only to be disappointed by the contents of the story? That’s exactly how I felt when I started my internship with Icon-Icon in Paris. I neglected to read the overview on the back of the book because the cover looked so glamorous. Only soon did I find out how poorly written and how many errors it contained.

I began my internship on February 11, 2013, a mere month after I’d arrived in Paris and completed a crash course in French. I was eager and ready to move into my position, although undefined, with Icon-Icon, an online fashion website dedicated to iconic objects of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Fashion meant more to me than what was printed in magazines; it was what I lived for. I was studying fashion design in Schaumburg, Illinois just one hour outside of Chicago. Nearing graduation with one year left of school I was determined to live out my childhood dream of living in Paris. Always a dream never reality until I finally made it happen. Having just finished a summer internship with Chanel on Michigan Avenue I was confident in myself and trusted the tasks I was being given. I knew Paris was going to be the right place for me.

When I woke up for the first day of my internship I was ready to start my next chapter in Paris: the Internship Chapter. I put on my new dress I bought during the winter soldes (sales) from Galeries Lafayette and my new black suede wedges I’d bought from a hole in the wall shop next to my favorite cheeseburger and fries place. The dress screamed Paris in my head and made me feel like a true Parisian. The two-toned shift dress with lace near the bust made me eager to walk down the streets of Paris. I told myself today was the first day of a new experience working in French fashion. The moment I arrived to my internship I realized I didn’t read the overview on the back of the book like I should have.

I was stunned at what I saw: four desks, 3 interns, and a room so small it barely fit all of us. Maybe this was ok? Maybe this is how the French work? I held my breath and sat down at the desk I would occupy throughout my stay. It was brought to my attention quickly that my boss needed major improvements on his social media websites, major being an understatement. He did not comprehend how to post links properly to Facebook, as evident by the lack of attention grabbing posts and view count. Twitter was a whole other story as he was following 2,000 people who had absolutely nothing to do with fashion. Pinterest had over 70 boards with 1-2 photos on each board. I was appalled to say the least. How could someone run a fashion website when they had no idea how to use social media? If you are not putting any money into a website then you have to rely heavily on social media to be your advertisement and your voice. This man’s voice was screaming for help!

I spent the better half of the next two days revamping, reposting, repining, and un-following 1700 people on Twitter. I was exhausted from all the work I was doing yet this wasn’t even the actual work that I had to do! I was getting everything back to square one so that I could start it off correctly. The main problem had been that my boss had given full access to his social media sites to practically anyone that could read his passwords in his 5 year old chicken scratch. The interns he had previously/currently had no idea how to work social media either. I immediately knew that this was not the place for me. I wanted to be in a position of learning from experienced and established people, here I was not learning but teaching. I expressed this concern with the agency that had matched me to Icon-Icon but to no avail. I was told and for lack of a better word reassured that I would learn a lot from my boss, that he was the ex-director for Prada. Upon doing my research on my boss I learned that Prada was not the company but the cell phone that was made by the company he worked for; nice try. To my utmost disappointment it looked like no matter how hard I try to escape Icon-Icon, I was stuck.

I put a smile on my face and told myself this was going to work out and ultimately be a true test to my character and future as a fashion designer working with people I disagreed with 100%. However countless arguments and hair pulling (my own) later I came to the conclusion that there was no possible way I could work for someone who was a micromanager boss. Yet day after day I kept coming back only to be second guessed on every task I performed, however right I was, and criticized for my choice in photos for the women’s look of the day. I would choose photos that were on point with the times and trends yet somehow my boss disliked my option or changed it without telling me. I began to feel like my 8 hour-a-day work schedule was pointless and that there was no point in doing the social media when I was constantly being asked, “Why did you do that,” “What’s the use of this?” Each time I came up with a new idea that I was proud of and presented to him I was either told it will be taken into consideration (and nothing ever came of it) or was completely shut down. I began keeping my mouth shut and putting my creative ideas towards my own personal gain for my fashion blog I wrote on the side.

I sought out advice in friends I had made in Paris as well as my coordinator to figure out how to handle the situation. It soon came to my knowledge that unlike the other interns I was the only one not to receive an interview in the process of finding my internship. Who was to blame for that though, the agency that matched me to this horrendous internship or mine for not emailing my boss to ask the proper questions and make the decision of accepting on my own? Even with the choice of the latter I had received my internship a mere 3 weeks before departing to Paris and was extremely busy working 40 hours a week to be able to ask the questions I needed to. I stopped blaming myself and found fault with the agency. I was disgusted with them for trying to tell me I could learn a lot from someone who was never in the office. I lost all respect for the agency after the first week at my internship.

My only way out after the atrocious first week was when I got a bad cold that, luckily, had me bed ridden for the rest of my second week. By the time I returned the next week it was Paris Fashion Week and I was determined to go, with or without the approval of my boss. Luckily my first Monday back he greeted me with a ticket to the Leonard fashion show the following Monday and had asked me if I was comfortable going to the shows to take pictures. I agreed after telling him I was going either way, of course he had no connections to actually get me into the shows but I was eager to try none the less. I attended my first Paris fashion show on Wednesday February 27^th, 2013.

Alexis Mabille was showing at the Palais de Tokyo and I was going to attend, one way or another. I got to the Palais de Tokyo half an hour before the show started. I was feeling both nervous and excited. I had no idea what I was doing or how I’d even get in but I wanted to try. I saw a sign that read, “Standing” and so stood in line watching people dressed to the 9’s walking by in sky high heels with their invites in hand go into the show. An hour later I was granted entry into the show. Not bad for my first show! I stood behind the rows of seats and pulled out my camera as the show was about to begin. I quickly snapped photos of the people in the front row hoping I’d recognize someone famous and then the lights went out. Showtime. The music pounded out the sound system and models began filtering down the runway in the most gorgeous designs. I felt like I’d finally made it. I was at Paris Fashion Week. I may not have been wearing designer head to toe and I may not have been anyone worth photographing but I finally felt like I belonged. After weeks of being criticized by my boss and losing strength in who I was I quickly found it where I least expected it: Paris Fashion Week.

As I left the show I grabbed a goodie bag and pamphlet with all the show details. It was my souvenir from my first show. I was anticipating more. Later that day I went to another show where I heard the venue was easy to get into. Peachoo Krejburg. A designer I’d never heard of was presenting their collection at the Garage de Turenne. I got a little lost on the way but managed to find the address listed on the fashion show schedule. I knew I had to be in the right place because there were fashionably dressed women waiting outside the door. Yet, it didn’t look like there was anything beyond the door. I began talking to two girls who were speaking English and soon came to find they were also studying in France and interns. I was excited to meet people who were in the same boat as I, although they actually loved their internships far more than I. Soon after two men approached the door and after looking confused, made a call to someone who in turn led us to the correct destination of the show. That was more like it, crowds of people waiting to enter into the venue. After all the people with tickets were able to walk in they let me and my two new friends through the door.

The show was outstanding! The drapery of the garments and the fabric choices used was inspiring, especially through the eyes of an aspiring designer such as myself. We were given these books that had the dates and addresses of the rest of the shows for fashion week. We decided to try and get into the H&M show afterwards and so we made our way to the metro. We stood outside for over 2 hours in the freezing February cold and tried to get into the H&M show. This was a big deal because they had not had a show in 8 years! We had to get in! The security was tighter than a mob of pre-teens at a Justin Bieber concert. We crowed around the entrance in hopes they’d let us in. Not only was the security tight but they were also rude not even letting in the employees of the H&M corporate. I had managed to slip past saying I was part of the press. With the first part of the battle over the second was only about to begin. The list; there was a list of all the people in the press that were granted access to the show. However, I was not on the list nor did I know anyone’s name famous enough to use. I admitted defeat and pushed my way back into the crowd finding my two new acquaintances and telling them it was time to throw in the white flag. At least I had successfully gone to 2 out of 3 shows that day! Not bad for my first day of shows! The best was yet to come I thought to myself as I rode the metro home.

As Paris Fashion Week continued on in a daze of glitz, glam, and high heels I found myself standing outside of shows snapping pictures of anyone and everyone worth photographing. Seeing the styles the women were wearing that were going to the shows or just taking pictures of people going into the shows inspired me.  I felt like a new light was shining inside me and I wanted to dress like these women I saw walking the streets of Paris Fashion Week. I went home after unsuccessfully waiting to get into a show and decided to let my inner Parisian spirit out. I transformed into the woman I’d always wanted to be and felt alive. Rummaging through all the clothes I’d bought and accumulated over a short period of time and found a pair of loose knit tights resembling lace patterns and my white lace dress and put them on, and then I added a Très Chic sweatshirt that I had bought from the New Look store at La Défense with a black blazer over it and paired with black boots. It wasn’t an outfit I’d ever wear back home but here, it felt perfect. I walked out the door confident and ready for the next show. As I arrived to the venue, the same one as the Alexis Mabille show, I was asked to have my picture taken. That’s how I knew I had achieved my Parisian style status. I may not have been dressed to the 9’s but I was dressed well enough to have my picture taken and that was enough for me.

It was another sad defeat as the list of shows I hadn’t gotten into was outnumbering the ones I had gotten into. I was starting to think that maybe I stop concerning myself with getting in and focus more on the styles of the people that were since that is where my inspiration lie. By the second week of the shows it was all about the big designers: Chanel, Saint Laurent, Dior, Givenchy, Elie Saab, to name a few. I had set my runway show dreams aside and began going to shows for the joy of photographing outfits and accessories. I did still however have my invite to the Leonard show for Monday February 25^th, 2013. Using my new Parisian style I paired cheetah print heels with black tights and my gold sequined low back Michael Kors dress. I felt like the shoes were pushing it a little but in Paris pushing the boundaries is what gets you noticed and photographed. I went to the show with my boss and the other interns but I had no intentions of actually sticking with them and so separated from them as I waited in line to enter the show. I found my seat and was taking photos of the press and the stage. Soon enough I was not alone but kept to myself until the show started. The Leonard show as full of prints and cutouts and flowing silhouettes. It was a gorgeous show and being in the rows at a fashion show truly did give me some peace of mind and a smile under my straight face. I think this is how Anna Wintour feels when she goes to shows perhaps?

It was funny how Paris Fashion Week exhausted me and I’d only managed to get into 3 shows, 2 of which were on my own. I knew it was silly to complain about fashion week when some people dream their whole lives of going to fashion week let alone Paris Fashion Week but rushing from show to show and in heels and in cold weather and dealing with a micromanager boss all in the matter of 2 weeks made me ready for it to all be over. Paris Fashion Week came to an end and I was finally able to return to my old yet new life in Paris, including crazy boss. Oh crazy boss. Words cannot even begin to describe how much he makes my blood boil. I’ve never found myself to be confrontational or mal tempered but something about him makes me lose it. Having read the reviews and looked at the photos from the shows I had my personal picks for my own blog and when I would present the look options for his Belle du Jour (beauty of the day) he would disagree with my choices and choose instead something completely horrendous. From then on I told him I was no longer giving my opinion because he was only good at changing it not listening.

I sat painfully behind a desk Monday-Friday keeping silent and focusing on my own work since he never approved what I was doing for him. It wasn’t until early March that he went on a vacation for a week leaving me and one other full time intern alone in the office. I was angry at his leaving because it was completely unprofessional to leave the office for a week and expect your interns, who work for free, to do all your work for you but at the same time it felt like a huge weight lifted off my shoulders not having him around. The entire week I came into the office after lunch (at 2pm) and stayed until 5pm. As long as I woke up at 9:30am to post the “Man of the Day” I could go back to sleep until noon. It was really sad to see his whole company was depending on 2 interns, not a paid employee. My respect was dwindling by the day but my end date was nearing sooner and sooner.

I booked a spontaneous trip to London for a day on a Tuesday, spontaneous in that I was going alone, not asking my boss for permission to miss a day, and looking for a cheap train ticket that wouldn’t put me in debt! My prayers were answered when a week before I found tickets there and back that put the total under $250, sold! I chose to wait until the day before, more like 5 seconds before I walked out the door, to let my boss know I was going to London. “Just so you know I won’t be here tomorrow I’m going to London”, were the exact words out of my mouth. He looked at me and cocked his head to the side and kind of laughed under his breath, “Oh really?” “Mmhm.” I said and walked out of the door. I didn’t really care at this point if he disapproved. It saved me another day of sitting behind a desk watching The Rachel Zoe Project repeats. He knew there was nothing he could do to make me stay anyhow. No matter how much I argue with him if I tell him I’m going to do something he just agrees. If only he would do that for everything else I said to him.

My first stop in London was the Victoria & Albert Museum where I saw an amazing Fashion exhibit on clothing from every era. There was Dior, Chanel, and Galliano! It was beautiful and really showed how much each decade had changed. In the gift shop I found an autobiography on Christian Dior, it was a done deal. I had basically read every novel, short story, and rules according to Chanel that it was time I found a different designer to obsess over. I left the museum with my new book in hand and made my way to Harrods where I would see the Christian Dior exhibit. I've been at a loss for words before but nothing like when I had entered the fourth floor Dior exhibit. It was like stepping into his personal world. There were videos of him speaking about the collections, muslin mock-ups of his most famous designs, the actual designs on display with the names of the famous women who had worn them, and his Lady Dior bag named for Princess Diana, his most loyal client. The atmosphere was indescribable, it was overpowering with emotion and passion, something every fashion designer dreams of having their collections remembered by. 

After the exhibit I went across the street to Topshop, how could I not? Topshop was known as the IT place to shop and carried one-of-a-kind pieces not likely to find back home, even though Chicago just opened a Topshop - it's not the same! I found a gorgeous black and white striped dress with black flowers on it and a pair of studded smoking slippers. Using my student ID to my advantage I received 10% off my total only doing 40 pounds in damage - not bad when in US dollars the dress alone would have been more than the total all together! I made my way towards Big Ben and was blown away by how amazing it was up close! Parliament against the water made for the perfect photo opportunity and the Ferris wheel was across the bridge! It was the perfect setting because Westminster Abby was right across the street! I remember exactly where I was when I watched Kate and Prince William get married, I was at the dentist for a teeth cleaning before my boyfriends prom. I got to be a princess that day too.

I then ventured over to the Tower Bridge and took pictures of the site where the Queen has her jewels, although I did not go to see them, being near the bridge was enough for me! I went to Covent Gardens, a popular shopping area, and had myself a delicious burger and "chips" (fries). Then I did some shopping, because it's me, and I even found a Starbucks where my jaw dropped at how cheap a cup of coffee was! Everything, even venti sizes, were under 4 pounds!! In Paris everything, even a tall, is over 4 euro! If it wasn't past 6pm and I wasn't full from dinner I would have bought a cup just for my amusement but instead I bought a London coffee mug for under 7 pounds (the mug I bought in Paris was 10 euro, ha)! I then made my way back to King's Cross St. Pancras International Station where I boarded the train home and returned to my bed in Paris! It was well worth the day trip and I can't wait to go back some day!

                Upon my first day back my boss asked how London was, “It was great!” Was all I said to him. I spent the better part of my day, like many others, watching reruns of past seasons of TV shows I liked. I felt like my time was being wasted more and more each day. My days left in Paris were dwindling and so was my patience. The day was Wednesday, I had to make it until Friday and then the suffering was over, or was it? I was growing impatient and aggravated. There was so much I could be doing with my time in Paris and here I was sitting behind a desk watching TV shows that I could watch at home in the states. By the next day I had made up my mind, I wouldn’t come in for my last day. I was 100% positive I wouldn’t be receiving a “Going Away Party”, if anything it would be more of a “Thank God You’re Going Away” party. My friend Asha, who I’d met at a fashion show, and I made plans to meet up the next day to go to the Paris Haute Couture exhibit we’d heard was a must-see. The rest of the day would be a spontaneous decision.

               

                That night I emailed my boss just before going to bed, “Instead of wasting another day in Paris I've decided to quit a day early. To keep this short I have nothing good to say of my experience with your "website" and think it best to part ways permanently.” It was the nicest way I could put it. Trust me, I had plenty more to say. I wanted to say everything that had been building up over the past few weeks but I knew that it would be just as unprofessional as him and I was not about to stoop to his level. His lack of professionalism was evident when all he replied back with was, “All the best.” Clearly he could care less about the people that work for him as long as they do a good job of making something of his website. I can assure you this man will get what he deserves. That is all I will say. I loved my job but there was nothing more for me to do and you can’t make a masterpiece out of something that lacks all the supplies. I give full respect to the job of social media because you have to be constantly on top of 5 different websites all at the same time responding and acknowledging all these people, it’s a tough job. I loved it. However, I knew that in order to become something there needed to be more material on the website yet a room of 3, sometimes 4 on occasion, people were not enough to fill the gap and I didn’t want to tell him because the 3, including me, were already up to our elbows in work. Maybe not me as much because my only task was the social media but that’s because I didn’t want to do articles and research, I just wanted to stick to promoting the website which I found difficult upon lack of information to promote. It all comes full circle in the end. Never the less I was relieved to be rid of the internship that I taught myself more from than anything else. There was not teaching done the way a proper mentor is supposed to teach. The only thing I can mentally take away from my, for serious lack of a better term, mentor is how NOT to run an online company.

               

                The next morning I woke up feeling like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and suddenly Paris had never looked more beautiful. As I walked the Paris streets and made my way to the metro to meet up with Asha I could feel it in the air, Paris had waited for me.

Asha and I met up outside the exhibit and waited in line for a short amount of time before entering the land of all things Couture. It didn't hurt that the first two designs were that of our idol (and slight obsession) Coco Chanel and Karl Lagerfeld. Yes, we entered the fashion heaven of all heavens! We took our time examining each gown (through the glass) as though we were scientists expecting new life. It was beyond our imagination how these gowns made from all periods of the century were creatively thought up when they didn't have the technology we do now to make these pieces of art come to life as they had. We wanted to know so desperately what went through their minds when they decided on the embroidery design or the crystals to use. We drew sketches of our favorite looks and wrote down the years so we could Google search later and relive the excitement. 

After leaving heaven we decided to check out a vintage shop I had been told about that was very cheap and accessible. Within 5 minutes of being in the store I spotted a vintage black Pierre Carvin jacket with 4 pockets on the front and 4 buttons down it. I think I died a little inside. Not more than 2 minutes after I found a blush pink Pierre Balmain jacket that had 3 buttons down it and was 3/4 length in sleeves. My heart was going into cardiac shock as I paid for both jackets: 20 euro. 

With my new jackets in hand we realized we had worked up an appetite from all the excitement and got on the train. A teacher of mine had told me that Etienne Marcel was a great place to find little restaurants so we agreed to venture that way. We found ourselves in a whole different part of Paris we hadn't seen before. Vintage shops, cheap shops, shoe shops, intimate shops, etc. It was a lot to take in and we were still hungry and decided when in doubt McDonald's will do (especially since they had wifi). On our way to a McDonald's we spotted a Pizza Hut and couldn't pass up the chance for pizza! We went inside and felt like we were in a French Restaurant, despite the 90's CD playing over us! It was either our hunger or it was actually the best pizza we'd had ever! Either way we were still on a high from our day and completely shocked at how amazing it was going and we didn't want it to end! I had remembered while reading the autobiography of Christian Dior that he opened his first shop on Avenue Montaigne we chose to continue our adventure there!

We made our way to the metro and proceeded to go down Avenue Montaigne and we were immediately transported to the "Upper East Side" of Paris. Don't believe me? Houndstooth print on the cross walks. Insane. I had died and entered fashion heaven's sister: Avenue Montaigne. Across the street stood the great and powerful Dior flagship talking up half the block. We held our breath and pretended to own half of New York as we strutted into the world of Dior. After being at the Harrods Dior exhibit I had an amazing respect for the man who coined the "New Look". It was time I took a new look at fashion and broadened my interest in things other than, and I'm sorry, Chanel. Despite her disapproval for Dior's New Look (which spiked her decision to return to her house in 1956) I had to hand it to the man, he knew how to make a woman a Lady. Being in his store reminded me of exactly why I wanted to become a fashion designer. I wanted to give girls like me the hope and inspiration they needed to accomplish their dreams. 

We made our way out onto the street and passed all the incredible brands of the day: Fendi, Louis Vuitton, Bottega Venenta, Prada, and Valentino across the street. The only thing that made this more perfect was the fact that we were mere blocks away from the Eiffel Tower, or in my opinion, the North Star of Paris. The Eiffel Tower represented a symbol of reality to me. On my worst days just being feet or even miles away from it made me stop and realize, "You're in Paris". That's not something everyone can say for 3 months straight. The Eiffel Tower is a reminder that my dreams came true and this day has further intensified my love for the city of Paris. We walked all the way to the Eiffel Tower just as the sun was setting and it was beautiful. Every picture I took would serve as a reminder of what I had accomplished. 

The sun was setting and we had one last adventure before we called it a night. We walked back down the Champs-Elysees and walked right into a random dance performance. Since the hole day had been successful on our, "Why not" outlook we decided to stick around and watch the show. Of course we were placed right in the front and there was a hat on the ground and I had told Asha to watch out for the hat to turn over. Soon enough the hat turned over and we ran away booking it into the nearest store and hearing a loud "HEY!" calling out from behind us. We were not planning on giving money to them when they had decided to do a spontaneous skit right in front of us! The highlight of the situation was when she and I walked into the store next to the one we hid out in and she asked, "What is this place?" and I replied in a slightly childish voice, "Naf Naf!" Whether it was my tone or the fact that the store was actually named Naf Naf we both busted out laughing and enjoying the incredible day we were having together in Paris. We made our way to the Metro and still could not believe that we had actually spent the day at a Haute Couture exhibit, then vintage shopping, then at Christian Dior's store, near the Eiffel Tower, as the sun set.

The next day we continued the magic of the previous day’s adventures and went for dinner at a Fondue Restaurant. We feasted over cheese from the Alps and endless amounts of bread and potatoes. The cheese was the perfect addition to our “amazing weekend” and after we were full from the fondue our waiter brought us the dessert menu. It only took one look at the chocolate fondue for us to order dessert. Although stuffed we couldn’t resist. How many times do you get to have fondue in Paris? As the waiter brought over the chocolate and plate of fruit I suddenly felt less full. Perfection. It was definitely the cherry on top of the dinner! Now we had a successful dinner that consisted of cheese and chocolate! That night we parted ways knowing it may as well have been the last time we’d see each other as Asha’s sisters were coming into town for the week and all her time would be devoted to them. It was not a sad goodbye because something inside of me knew this was only the beginning of a lifelong friendship. She and I had bonded quicker than I had with anyone else while in Paris. I was also looking forward to enjoying Paris on my own for the week. It gave me the chance to be selfish, to do the things I wanted, and not to have to answer to anyone else’s schedule.

The following day happened to be Easter Sunday. That morning I woke up and got ready to spend my holiday at Versailles. A palace so grand and elaborate with enough rooms to fill all the students from Hogwarts! I can’t image what it would be like to have lived in a palace as such. It’s every little girls dream to be a princess and live in a castle. I think my dream finally came true, although 10 years later. I walked through each room of the palace and gazed at the ceilings with its elaborate paintings and décor. Sometimes I still catch myself pinching myself at the thought that, “I’m in Paris”.

My last week in Paris was commencing and I had a list of things to do and places to see. I never quite imagined how life in Paris would change me, but it had. I was no longer the same girl that stepped off the plane just 3 months ago. Everyone kept saying to me that 3 months was short and in retrospect it is but it was also enough time for me to dip my toes in and find out the kind of person I wanted to be. Paris has taught me more about myself than any exhibit, book, boss, or television show ever could. I think at some point everyone should live abroad because it gives you the opportunity to discover yourself according to your own means. What I know I’ll take away from living in Paris, along with working for the dim-witted devil, is that I am now more confident in myself. I won’t let myself be pushed around nor told how to act. When you can make decisions for yourself however far off from your initial thought that is when you know you are growing as a person. This is coming from a girl who’s lived her whole life with her family and never left them once yet moved to a foreign country for 3 months. I am proud of the decisions I’ve made because they’ve shaped who I am as well as helped me to discover the designer I want to be. Paris has inspired my creative side to a point that I will come home and put all my new inspiration into my work.

As for my boss, I am grateful to him. He may have been the worst boss I’ve ever had but he showed me the kind of boss I don’t aspire to be when I start my own company. I know how to treat people appropriately now having seen the opposite way of doing it. I know how to run an online website better now having seen the opposite way. I know how to interact professionally now having seen the opposite way. To say I learned nothing during my internship is not true instead I learned exactly what not to do and that is the most important lesson of all. He may not have been an Anna Wintour type of boss, although I would have preferred to learn from someone who knew what they were doing, but at least positively speaking I did gain the knowledge of how to accurately do social media, since that was in my full control and already something I was knowledgeable on. I do thank my boss but I also have no good words to say on his part and I don’t doubt he feels the same since I was the only intern who ever questioned him. When I first started with him and was unhappy with my placement the advice I’d been given by my advisors was to act like it was a real job and handle it accordingly. Honestly, had this been a real job I would’ve quit after the first day. So to my advisors: thank you, for nothing.

When I look at it now I question whether the internship was worth it or not? Everything I gained was from my own doing; my boss had no influence on my learning. He was unprofessional, rarely in the office which actually made me happiest, and he took none of the advice or options I pitched to him. The answer to that question may never come to come but at least I can say that Paris is always worth it. The internship may have been difficult but the beautiful city of Paris never let me down like my boss did. I’ll always have the fondest memories of the city morning, afternoon, evening, and night! You can never feel the emotions of being in the presence of beauty from looking at a screen saver of Paris; you have to physically be there. Each day that I took a picture of the Eiffel Tower or walked along the Seine it reminded me that nothing is forever and it’s the moments you make that become memories, those are what live with you forever: memories. I thank Paris for breathing new life into me and also helping me learn to restrain myself from people I can’t deal with!