Bonjour! My name is Tatiana Lukyanova. I am a fashion and personal stylist with years of experience in the fashion industry.
I currently live in Paris—a city where style lives on every corner, inspiration breathes from the shop windows, and changes happen not only in the wardrobe but also in the soul.
In this column, I will share my new life with you:
how I moved to Paris, how I am building a career on an international level, how I meet people, how I find projects, get inspired, make mistakes, discover, and create.
These are not just stories from life—they are insights about the profession, useful tips, fashion life hacks, stylish finds, and a personal perspective on fashion as a form of self-awareness. Every week—one new chapter. One step closer to the goal.
One new silhouette on the map of the journey.
I didn't come to Paris for romance. Although, who are we kidding, even the most rational of us bring a suitcase of hopes here, among which shines a small dream that life here will open up like a rare vintage brooch: with a click, unexpectedly, and forever.
On June 15th, I simply landed in Paris, and from that moment on, everything began to happen with almost surreal speed. Shoots, meetings, acquaintances, as if Paris said: "You have arrived. Now hold on."
I decided to experience this city not as a tourist, but as a woman seeking not external landmarks but an internal alignment with the space. To find my Paris within myself. To be a stylist not just by profession but in essence—to compose feelings like outfits, to create beauty that always has a subtext.
I found myself at parties I didn't plan to attend, met people I couldn't have imagined meeting in advance. Dates—yes, there were those too. Not even about love, but about how important it is to speak, listen, observe. In Paris, dates are small philosophical sessions over a glass of wine.
The other day, walking down the street in a bright vintage jacket, in the style of Carrie, I heard: "You look like Carrie Bradshaw!"
I smiled. Not because I look alike—but because there may be some truth in that. After all, she also came to a city that made her who she is.
I have always been Carrie at heart.
Even before I first stepped out in high heels on the cobblestones of a city where no one knows my name, but many seem to guess my essence. I didn't write a column in the "New York Star," but I wrote in my head—about myself, about people, about views and accidental touches of meaning.
It always seemed to me that fashion is not just clothing. It is an offer to the world: "This is how I feel today." And Paris understood this without words. It accepted me as it accepts heroines who seek not a prince but the truth—in themselves, in their feelings, in the reflection of shop windows. And now, when passersby say:
"You're like Carrie"—I just smile.
Because I know: that's who I've always been. Only now—in Paris. And it's all real. To be continued...
Stay tuned—it will be interesting.
"À lundi. Between Le Marais and fashion—yours, T."