Paris Isn’t Just a City, It’s a Comeback Mood

Let me say this clearly: Paris healed parts of me that therapy hadn’t reached yet.

I didn’t go to find myself. I packed myself up in a suitcase lined with fabulous dresses and decided to remember who I was. Somewhere between my third café crème and my second box of Ladurée macarons, I realized Paris wasn’t just a place—it was a permission slip.

Permission to slow down. Permission to flirt with life again. Permission to eat bread without guilt, wear red lipstick in the middle of the day, and say “non” to anything that didn’t feel right in my soul.

There was no big romantic moment. Just me, in a silk scarf, walking across the Seine like the main character. Which I am. And so are you.

Sometimes, your comeback doesn’t look like fireworks. Sometimes it’s soft, elegant, slow. Like Paris. And trust me, that kind of comeback? It lasts longer than jet lag.