You, madame, are one foxy French corporation. Most of your men’s clothing is a perfect match for my own aesthetic (although I wouldn’t have guessed it from your current website). Even your store in San Francisco suits me—simply appointed, with early-vintage Cure songs playing from overhead speakers. Also, since I have the build of a Frenchman, I can only assume that your shirts would fit me properly rather than billowing out like sails.
Your prices, though, give me pause. As much as I would like to exchange $180 for one of your fine shirts, I simply do not, as we say in the States, have that kind of scratch. I’ll let you in on a little secret, though, one that your market research may not have turned up: In America, we have never had a royal family, so the grandchildren of former viscounts who apparently comprise your target market are unlikely to materialize. Might you be willing to offer, say, a 75 percent discount to those of us who are not descended from nobles?
By hoping that this solution will appear interesting to you, I remain, agnès b., sincerely yours,