There is an air of ebullience about her as she walks in, the sway of her black dress screaming effortless style, as if it is something she just threw on and perfected on the go. The skittish smile that dances on her blushed face as she talks about the happenings in town and orders her coffee (a latte, none of that soy and almond milk nonsense please!) is at once assuaging, the short fringe she sports adding the oomph that one expects of a Parisian woman.
It is hard to keep your eyes from scanning the person that is Koel Purie, her black nail paint, the choice of many rings that she has on, the light freckles across her face. But as soon as she starts talking to you, she has all your attention—no, not in a self-important way, but in one that immediately wants you to be
