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What I spent on a one night break in Paris

When I was younger and infinitely cooler, I spent brief stints working in Paris, both as a frazzled assistant during Fashion Week and with a group of aspiring writers on a new magazine – a very Parisian cliché.

Despite my fondest hopes, I didn’t waste away in a cloud of absinthe and syphilis in the city. Instead, I got a full-time job in London, forgot half my French and moved in with my partner, Alex, like the member of the bourgeoisie my parents always hoped I’d be.

But a recent…


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