Le French Kiss

Single, living, loving. I believe it, live it, breathe it – it’s one of my maxims, and it seems I like my things in threes (as does the universe). I’m hardly a romantic by conventional sense (Clueless is the only “chick flick” I’ve ever loved for the message is sweet: love starts with accepting all the flaws of that certain someone), but love, actually? I couldn’t tell you what it is. I’ll let you know once I find out. (Don’t hold your breath, ladies, I’m a practical one.)

But kisses. Kisses! Perfectly sweet, or perfectly swoon-worthy, take your pick. It was only a matter of time before I stumbled across American photographer Peter Turnley‘s project, so aptly titled “French Kiss.”

The project began once he moved to Paris in 1975; of all his travels, of all the places he’s seen and been, he recalls that none express love so publicly with such unabashed pride and romance as the Parisians do.

“The theme of love in Paris is implicitly intertwined with the heart of Paris itself.”

—Turnley

I used to end all my posts with “bises.” Perhaps I will again. Kiss someone today. Someone old, someone borrowed new, but, darling, certainly not ’til one of you are blue.

.   .   .

x

{source & images via}