Beauties: Claire Exbrayat Durivaux Clarke

This gorgeous woman is my boyfriend's mother. She is beyond beautiful, and from the family photos I have seen, always has been.

Even if she hadn't given birth to my beloved, I would still want to hang out with Claire. She's smart, fiesty, hilarious, and incredibly generous. Rarely does she return from a shopping trip with anything for herself, and just as rarely does she return without anything for me or anyone else in the family.

Claire is quite the fashion plate, too, and I think she was born that way. When she was a teenager, she started sewing for the couture houses in Paris; her stint at Yves Saint Laurent seems to have produced the very best, most scandalous stories. She's made herself some amazing dresses, including a faux-Chanel pink bouclé number that is cut even better than the real thing. With it she carries a handbag that is the real thing, quilted black with the trademark interlocking Cs. Lucky me, she is always suggesting that I borrow that bag, and I've lost count of the number of times she's made me clothes or altered ones that didn't fit properly. (Until you've had a good seamstress in your life, you can't know the joy of being able to buy something you want that's only available in larger sizes, because you know without doubt that you can have it tailored to fit you perfectly.

I am used to seeing Claire nearly every day, but a month or so ago, she and Antoine's father made their annual sojourn to France, where they spend the summer and autumn in the family house in Provence. "I can't believe how much I miss your mother," I say to Antoine nearly every day. Claire is someone whose love and mere presence is so significant that her absence makes you realise how very beautiful she really is.

So I was thrilled to be reunited with her, however briefly, this past weekend in France. Of course, the very first thing she did was foist several gifts upon me, including some chocolate pasta from Weiss and two pretty necklaces. The very first thing I did was tell her how great her pretty pink sunglasses - originally purchased in LA, by me, for me - looked on her. And then I started obsessing about her new haircut, which is just fabulous. Haircuts in France are dirt cheap, and damn fine. See below.

I once asked Antoine how old his mother is, which prompted a laugh. "Nobody knows for sure," he replied. She once took him and his brother to the dentist, and according to the birthdate she put down on her form, she was seven years old when she had Antoine. When I told Claire that Antoine had shared that story with me, she laughed her wonderful laugh and said, "Yes, no one really knew where to look on that one. I didn't do the sums right in my head."

But the thing about Claire is that she is one of the most youthful people I know, certainly more youthful than I am. Many times, I just look at her livewire self and marvel that she's the mother of my boyfriend, who is now 40 years old and was a tri-lingual, chess-playing history buff and bookworm by the time he started school. She's a sterling example of the spark and vibrance that no surgeon's scalpel or syringe can bring, and that no amount of money could ever buy. An amazing mother, wife, friend, sister, and grandmother, Claire is exactly what I want to be when I grow up.

Here are Antoine's parents, pictured on Friday at the press breakfast for the centenary of Claire's late father, Exbrayat.