What Happened at Leonard

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Paris is kind of the only place you'll end up at a show whose name you don't even know. Take Leonard for example. What the hell is Leonard? But you never know what you're going to find. So I sat down and waited with an open mind until they started to run so late, I mean so late, that the photogs started whistling tunes in unison; one even started belting out Nessun Dorma at the top of his lungs. I ran out to see what Bumble and bumble was up to backstage at Guy Laroche. But that went awry so I snuck back into Leonard, where I'd lost my seat and stood in the back to watch the show. So what was it? Simple, nothing to-it, and sort of TIbi-esque - but not as good - cute dresses and some flowing summer gowns. I imagine a Real Housewife of Dallas would love it. And there you have it. —REBECCA SUHRAWARDI AUSTIN