"Despite having nothing more serious than boy troubles, many of my friends in NY were spending more on therapy than on rent. That persona doen’t fly in Paris. The ideal Parisian woman is calm, discreet, a bit remote and extremely decisive. She orders from the menu, she doesn’t blather about her childhood or her diet. If NY is about the woman who’s ruminating about her past screwups and fumbling to find herself, Paris is about the one who – at least outwardly – regrets nothing. In France, “neurotic” isn’t a self-deprecating, half boast; it’s a clinical condition."