Perhaps the first time I was fully aware of good taste was in France when I was 17. I was staying at Plantery outside of Uzes near Nimes when a lady came to a party on her bike—she was the epitome of simple, good taste. A few days later I was taken to visit her in her chateau where she lived with her husband and her nine year old son. Sitting in her living room I saw that the wall covering was the same as the fabric on her sofa. Both were from so long ago—so chic.