Perhaps some of my most cherished memories from my recent trip to Paris are my daily rousings from bed.
As the rich notes of jazz singer Abbey Lincoln’s voice would enter my room, I could hear the pitter and patter of my roommate in the living room. Michelle Elie, the Haitian jewelry designer/mother of 3/newly-minted style star, met the day with a real urgency—unlike any I had ever known—and no matter the time zone, she was up at 5 or 6 am to give thanks, check on her family back in Köln, Germany, and adorn herself in some of the most inspired, whimsical pieces I had ever laid my eyes on. I would stumble out of my room of the pied-a-terre we shared in the 17th and be met by her positive force, outfitted in jawdropping numbers from Comme and Rodarte. She always called me “darling”, deftly snuck me into the Yohji Yamamato show, ended each night with a fresh batch of ‘girl talk’ with me (no matter the hour) , and encouraged me to never revel in the negativity.
Michelle and I had met many months before at our mutual friend, Shala’s dinner party, wherein the stunner had whipped up a meal of Haitian delicacies for a group of twenty or so.
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