They say that everyone has their fifteen minutes of fame. My closest brush with it to date was an appearance on the Robert Kilroy-Silk show over a decade ago, where the man with the Tango tan accused me, on behalf of the rest of my profession - I was a newspaper fashion editor at the time - of promoting anorexia in young girls.
But walking into the bookshop and internet cafe on the village square, after my recent trip to London, I experienced a second bit of the fame cherry (in the book store at least).
'This book, it should be offered on the French health service to anyone who is feeling sad or depressed,' said my friend Martine, a local mayor. This is one of my favourite pieces of feedback so far, along with the epithet, 'the Carrie Bradshaw of the French countryside' (thank you Patti at Waterstones!)
My trip to London however, was a little deflating - mainly because my book was so hard to find. In one major book store on Oxford Street, two copies of Tout Sweet were languishing in the basement, listed under French history. And in the WH Smith at Shabsted airport, my book was concealed at the back of the store in the travel writing section. I promptly re-located the two copies of Tout Sweet to the front - specifically the No1 slot in the bestseller chart.
But seriously, how is my book going to sell if it's filed under French history and no-one can find it? Tout Sweet is so 'below radar' at the moment as to be practically invisible. I am going to have to rely almost entirely on word-of-mouth and viral marketing to sell it.
The one bright spot on the horizon is my former local branch of Waterstones in west London, where a lovely member of staff (to whom I owe un enorme merci) has displayed it as a staff recommendation - a huge boost - and has been enthusiastically selling it to customers who ask her advice on what to read over the summer.