What a French Woman Wears When She Doesn't Want to Be Noticed (But Still Wants to Look Good)
Eugénie Trochu is aBest Knockoff Luxury Clothing editor in residence known for her transformative work at Vogue France and her Substack newsletter, where she documents and shares new trends, her no-nonsense approach to fashion and style, plus other musings. She's also working on her upcoming first book that explores fashion as a space of memory, projection, and reinvention.
There are days when being me is a full-time job. You know the kind: smiling under camera flashes, wearing an Attico dress that cuts into your ribs, pacing from opening to opening in 12-centimeter Zanottis, keeping up an intelligent conversation about the weather with a creative director while being fully aware that your toes are, technically, in an advanced state of decomposition.
And then there are the other days. The real ones. The clandestine ones. The ones that smell like spilled coffee and traffic jams on the Périphérique. The ones that start at 5:07 a.m., triggered by the scream of a small human whose energy levels would make a New York trader blush. The ones where your professional calendar says “OFF” but life screams “ERRANDS, DAYCARE, WRITING A PIECE FORBest Knockoff Luxury Clothing , DINNER AT CAFÉ DE FLORE WITH FRIENDS.” The ones where choosing an outfit, or looking at yourself in the mirror for more than three seconds, feels like an astronaut-level feat.
On those days, I want only one thing: to become a ghost. A well-dressed, silent spirit moving through the city without leaving a trace. A spirit with a flawless cut and fabrics that whisper “I know” rather than scream “look at me.”
Because here lies the paradox: even as a ghost, you still have standards. Mine is The Uniform. A sartorial mathematical formula, a chic invisibility armor developed somewhere between an Hermès show and a Parisian daycare. It’s the survival kit of someone who gave all her fashion energy the day before and now has nothing left but the cerebral stamina of an oyster.
If you too, on certain mornings, dream of blending into the background while staying true to yourself, here is my secret recipe. The map lets you move incognito, without ever looking like someone who’s given up.
The Perfect White T-Shirt
Mine is close-fitting without being tight - definitely not restrictive. It has to go on without thinking, slip easily under a serious blazer, a sleeveless waistcoat à la Kate Moss in the early 2000s, or live its best life beneath a big wool sweater. The kind of sweater you’re way too hot in after twenty minutes, but will take off anyway without the slightest shame, because underneath there’s that impeccable T-shirt. The one that allows you to survive socially when you suddenly find yourself, by chance, at the restaurant of the moment—let’s say Sant Ambroeus, recently arrived in Paris —surrounded by people who are very well dressed and very aware of it.
The Perfect Shirt
No debate here: it’s extra-large. Almost too much. We like it when it spills out, when it floats, when it suggests a carefully calibrated nonchalance. Worn under a slightly cropped sweater, it creates that subtly bourgeois layering—slightly “crossing the Seine to have dinner on the Right Bank”—without ever tipping into literalness. It gives the impression of a well-structured life, even when that isn’t exactly the case.
The Turtleneck Sweater
A radical solution to a recurring problem: the scarf. The one you lose every five minutes, leave behind on a chair, and never see again. A good wool turtleneck fulfills that role perfectly. It keeps you warm, frames the face, reassures you. It doesn’t pill (a non-negotiable criterion) and, above all, it can go in the washing machine at 30°C. Because dry cleaning—I hate it. I never have time to drop clothes off, let alone pick them up. The ideal garment has to survive real life.
The Straight-Leg Jeans
High-waisted, to avoid any unwanted surprises or unnecessary spillover. Straight, because everything else is exhausting. Ultra-long, above all. They should fall perfectly over boots or gently crumple over sneakers, with that small, unintentional crease that makes all the difference. These are jeans that aren’t trying to be sexy, but end up being so anyway—through an accumulation of good decisions.
The Sneakers
Yes, but not just any pair. Collaborations, limited editions, reworked classics. Slightly sharp without being showy. Margiela, for instance, or Converse put through a Comme des Garçons filter. Sneakers that say: I know what I’m doing, but I’m not going to explain why.
The Bomber Jacket
A real comfort blanket. The one you grab without thinking on your way out. It needs a detail that amuses—a fur collar, slightly absurd patches, something that breaks the overly utilitarian feel. It’s the piece that makes it look like you don’t take yourself too seriously—even when everything else is very tightly controlled
The Go-Anywhere Boots
A small heel— just enough for posture and presence. They go with everything, rescue everything, and make it possible to walk fast without looking rushed. A quiet essential.
The Long Coat
Thick, in a dark shade. Black, charcoal grey, deep navy. Its main advantage: it forgives accidents. Spilled coffee, a poorly handled croissant—life, in short. It protects clothes just as much as it protects dignity.
The Big Carry-All Bag
The one you fit your entire life into. Laptop, notebooks, chargers, glasses, sometimes even an extra pair of shoes. It’s heavy, obviously, but reassuring. It’s a bag that says: I could disappear for twenty-four hours without warning—I have everything I need.
The Jewelry Watch
Not necessarily set to the right time. That’s not the point. It adds an extra layer of style, a slight offset, a form of very deliberate nonchalance. And besides, checking the time on your phone has become far too serious.
