When I was in my final year at school, my parents allowed a friend and I to go from London to Paris for a weekend. The idea was that we would visit some museums and practice our French ahead of our summer exams.
Of course, we had no intention of going to bed quietly after dinner every night so we planned to hit up some bars and try our best to get French men to buy us drinks and pay for our club entry. For reference, both my friend and I have brown hair and olive skin – she’s tall and skinny and I’m shorter and curvy. We were both 18 at the time.