A few years ago I was working in Paris for a few days. I had a couple of hours to myself so I decided I would purchase some fine French lingerie for my wife. As I entered the shop I was approached by a mature and stunningly beautiful lady. She was extremely helpful, pulling out from beneath the glass counters numerous ensembles.
Some of them were frightfully expensive, but truly lovely � rich satins and the finest filigree laces. I would say, in all honesty, that the woman�s tastes were impeccable and I willingly allowed her to make some recommendations. She wrapped each item in colourful gossamer style tissues, placed them in a luxurious burgundy box with gold embossing and deep blue piping. Finally, she tied the box with braided gold threads. The presentation was magnificent. I don�t think bringing a box home from Tiffany�s would have been met with any more enthusiasm.
As my wife delicately unwrapped her new v�tements I sat there smiling, quite proud of my selections (with the help of my secret shopper).
My wife was delighted. She was as impressed with the packaging as my selections. As she gently ran her fingers through the silken materials, she looked at the box again, then up at me. �Darling, where did you say you got these?� I told her the name of the shop, just along Rue St. Honore. She passed one of the camisoles to me. As I felt the luxurious material, I noticed the small discreet label. Clearly embossed on the material were the logo and trade name of �Ann Summers!�
Vive la Diff�rence!
Fr Bill