CANNES, FIRENZE and PARIS
... OH MY!
DANCING THE CAN-CANNES
Before I was en route to Italy to attend the most chic wedding of my life, I took a short trip to Cannes for the most chic birthday weekend of Benoit – one of Simon’s best friends.
It was a GRAND weekend in every sense of the word. Grand things happened! We stayed on his beautiful grand sailboat that was parked downtown in the grand IGY Vieux-Port de Cannes (his particular slot was positioned directly in front of the grand Palace of Festivals and Congresses of Cannes. The place we all know by heart thanks Pamala Anderson circa 1995 and her Barb Wire getup… ooop, I mean, the place we all know by heart thanks to the infamous Film Festival (that’s what makes this place famous!), we danced with a grand band until the wee hours in the morning after we had worn all-white to Benoit’s grand birthday soiree on the beach. We dined at the grand restaurants: O’Key Beach (twice), A Casetta, and Palm Springs (fanciest new club on the beach). And finally, we belted grand karaoke to break the ice upon arrival at his house (my favorite ice-breaker! Ironically this was on July 4th – so I texted my sister that our family karaoke tradition on this holiday was still alive and well in France), and after that grand weekend… Simon and I had no other choice than to stay silent on the train back.
We were both left speechless.
MY DAY WITH MY FAVORITE GIRL, FIRENZE
My alarm rang out on Tuesday morning at 5:45am, two day’s after I had arrived back in Paris from Cannes. By 6:30am I was walking out onto the Paris streets, and an hour later (after taking the cool new metro 14 line that goes directly to Orly) I strolled into the airport — channeling the bride and my Italian-wanna-be energy — sporting an oversized linen suit. I was Italy bound to spend the day with my first European love, Firenze.
Arriving in the blazing heat, I hailed a cab directly to Riva Lofts (recommended by my personal trip guru planner and disco queen, Erika (who also sent me this to listen to on my way out of town. Sorry, I’m not sorry, if I was or was not (but 1000% was) dancing and laughing in the queue for TSA check-in). The property was UNREAL. I didn’t think it was possible to get better than the hotel I stayed in the last time I was in my sweet city. And maybe it isn’t. All I can say, it was exactly what I needed for this trip: refreshing private pool, lounge chairs for days, the chicest staff, the most cozy and masculine living room, sky lights in my bedroom as my wakeup call, a masseuse on the grounds (yes I did book her before my stay was complete! Did you think I wouldn’t?), and a breakfast fit for queens.
After I delivered my bags, did a quick outfit change – I don’t care if you're a chic Italian-wanna-be or not! In this heat? My full on southern American came out as I stepped out of my linen suit and into my SHORTS.
First stop, lunch. I strolled by Trattori 13 Gobbi – a place that I had been recommended by several – and I hate to write this in ink (or in type rather), because it’s probably very delicious, but eeeek it was not my vibe. Looked too “sceney” for me so I moved on to a tried and true Trattoria Cammillo. To my dismay, and growling stomach, I found out it was CLOSED. Devastation. But not for long as I turned the corner to my other tried and true Il Santo Bevitore. I parked it right outside where I could be in the shade and in ear-shot of all the Italian complaints about the hot weather. Paradise!
I had artichokes that had been marinating for weeks, beef with dried raspberries and pickled radish, a glass of wine, and the lightest cloud-like ravioli I have ever put in my mouth.
What is the saying? After lunch, rest a while. After dinner, walk a mile? Wait! I did the opposite! Eh, c'est la vie. I was in heaven and wanted to walk until I couldn’t feel my feet and empty my mind with all that was buzzing around in it. SUCCESS!
On the list: Boboli Gardens at Pitti Palace, gelato at Gelateria Della Passera (a place that I randomly stumbled upon, where the staff wears painted aprons and serves up the most delicious gelato I have ever tasted, and oooop, where I may or may not have visited daily after my first taste), and then, en route to bask in the most beautiful town and all her hot touristy glory, I made a stop by Ino to pick up my favorite “Costiera” sammie for my poolside dinner / picnic later.
That day I walked 10 miles, got chased by two homeless men (didn’t know whether to cry, scream or laugh — so I did all three), ate all the food, stayed super quiet to take it all in, and lounged my ass off at the hotel. I arrived back at Riva lofts around 7pm — where I promptly changed into my swimsuit and dove into the pool. I started The Power of NOW (again) and now see it as practically an adult coloring book, as I have highlighted EVERY sentence. Bible. Eckhart knows a thing or two about a thing or two! I sat outside until I was doze-reading. My dead giveaway that it’s time for me to go to beddy bye. And I mean… head bobs in a chic place like this? Not the look I was going for.
That night I slept like a baby. I traveled this time with my sound machine and it was a game changer! So… while the same 7 year old, who I pruned beside earlier in the pool (she interrupted my zin hour with a wait for it… wait for it… cannonball) was evidently staying across the hall from me, and busy trying to scare her parents with the sporadic (and jarring) “boo-s” — I was busy cranking up my “airport noise,” as Simon calls it, to drown out her belts and read in peace and quiet white noise.
The next morning was spent easing into the day while being over-served cappuccinos in the garden, in the outside massage room with Fei for an hour, lounging in and around the pool since I had a late check-out, and reading my book. HEAVEN.
When I finally decided to “check-out” and make my way into the city, I decided to go back for ice cream. This time though, I took a glass of wine in the Piazza Della Passera while I watched the line eb and flow. When it was flow, and therefore moving fast, I popped in to taste the hazelnut. BLISS. And after I did what any traveling Parisian (what? Almost a year living here… I am one now, no?!) would do after an afternoon aperitif (what?? Ice cream counts!!) – I smoked a skinny cig with some Italian locals and shared with them about how I had studied here when I was young. They said … “Oh! So, last year?” I didn’t correct them.
ONE LIFETIME ISN’T ENOUGH
I had the ultimate pleasure, and honor, to attend a wedding of two dear friends of mine – Sheyda and Kevin. And boy oh boy! Their love!
Their love, smiles, and touch were simply contagious. And their STYLE?! Their attention to DETAIL!? Their WORDS?! EVERYTHING about this wedding was jaw dropping. I have never in my life been more inspired by all the guests' ensembles. I mean… the bride did offer us all a mood-board for wedding-weekend-packing inso – But even without it… I think this crowd would have nailed it! It was something else!
Upon arrival at the rehearsal dinner in the private Helvetia & Bristol dining room, I met Jason. My soon to be date for the big day. Jason was in from Atalanta and since his boyfriend was also tied up with work obligations and couldn’t attend, as Simon – I was happy to oblige and be his plus-one.
As we were sharing our life stories, and falling in love rapidly, we walked into the private dining room that gave a whole new meaning to the “F word”… FANTASY! There were peacocks painted on the walls, there were candlesticks and bouquets of flowers dripping from every corner. It was a fairytale! He and I were interrupted with instructions to “just sit anywhere.” We, naturally, decided on the table in the center of the room. The four top. Both being from the deep south we should have known better that to take THAT table… that was clearly being reserved for the bride and groom. (Insert hand over face emoji about now.) Mais, c'est la vie. When the bride and groom arrived at our table, we insisted that we would go sit somewhere else and let the family take these prized seats – they wouldn’t hear of it. I felt beyond grateful. I called that in! I hadn’t had the pleasure of being in Italy with everyone since they all arrived days ago – as I was in Cannes (I know I know… I can almost hear your eyerolls of my chic bounce from one incredible place to the next). So, being able to have this intimate time with the bride and groom… and my new date… was bliss. Exactly what I had hoped for!
The meal consisted of 10,000 small plates (OK! 20… but still!) and the most delicious steak I have ever eaten in my LIFE.
The toasts this night (and throughout the weekend) had everyone wiping the waterfalls that were pouring out of their eyes. Kevin kept the room in stitches with his jokes, and kept his bride calm as his eyes and hands were on her at all times. And Sheyda kept the crowd swooning over her adorning sentiments for Kevin – “My hope is for everyone to have a Kevin.”
To see them. Is to see real love. Patient love. Adoring love. Kind love. Just utter respect and admiration for each other. It was contagious!
The sweetness didn’t end there though. The next day there were the vows! Walking to our seats we were given parasols to protect us from the beautiful but harsh heat from that Italian sun – alas, if we had known what Sheyda and Kevin would be saying, I think we all would have actually rather been given hankies. The sniffs and tear flow was coming from all angles.
Kevin started… “A E I O U… oh! I thought we just needed to read the vowels” he joked. It broke the seriousness of the ceremony and we all laughed. Then the real stuff came and he brought the house to tears with his adoration for our sweet petite chic little thing, Sheyda. It was a hard act to follow, but she ummm nailed it. She could have dropped the mic when she ended with – “One lifetime is not enough with you, Kevin. I can only hope to return so I can relive every lifetime beside you.” We all melted! (And NOT because it was 1,000° outside.)
Later – when dinner was served, I sat with the best crew. We ate the BEST meal, listened to the string quartet playing in the background as the mic was being pinned on a selected few guests who toasted the happy couple. We gathered around to watch them assemble their own wedding cake (a mille-feuille… which made this wanna-be-French lady feel right at home!), and then we danced the night away as DavidxDaisy spun tunes and Kevin challenged everyone to a dance off. We had a BALL!
I also got the coolest friends out of it. I sat beside Morgan (fellow Francophile), met Mattiel and Jason (fellow southern Americans who are now living the European dream, as moi, yet in Firenze), Alex (another southern American who is living in Amsterdam now but moving to Scotland in a few months), Steve and Dominique (the coolest, funniest, most witty couple from the UK who became fast friends (yes, we are still texting daily ;)), and Laura… (my fellow Charlestonian who wildly enough I didn’t know until we were sat beside one another here – across the pond. Turns out, she dated my old neighbor and dear friend, Luke. Small world!)
This wedding filled my tank. I got to dance (check!), I got to dress up (chek! check!), I got to roam about my favorite Italian city for days solo, (check! check! check!), I got to stay at the most incredible places, meet the most incredible people, feast my eyes and ears on a true love story, AND, got to eat all that yummy unsalted Italian bread.
I almost didn’t leave.
REWIND AND THEN FAST FORWARD
Before arriving to Casa G. My home for the night before the wedding. I made a pitstop by Moto Vintage where I happened to buy the coolest pair of (French) YSL heels that were made in Italy. Found them to be the perfect souvenir (both French and Italian… my two loves).
I met the coolest people … in the nude!
That’s right! Sheyda thought of EVERYTHING. Including to book a suite for us all to change in for the rehearsal dinner in Florence. She knew we’d be shvitzing all day and would need a little birdbath in order to present our most elegant selves at her gala-esqu rehearsal dinner. When I walked in… everyone had stripped down to change. It was the perfect intro!
I ended up staying in that suite that night with Iri, another fast love of mine who I met this weekend, and also better known as Sheyda’s cousin. Iri was hankering for a affogato and hadn’t been able to squeeze it in on that Wednesday. So… as any person would do if they want to eat ice cream in coffee in the homeland, Florence, would do… she asked the bride if she could crash there so she could get her fix the following morning. Haha!
I was thankful she did. As I ended up needing to stay there as well.
When I called my boutique hotel that I had booked in advance in Lucca — which I never got to stay in, and am now too grumpy to share the link with you all…because they didn’t honor my reservation!! — They told me that no one would be there to check me in if I came at midnight or later. Shocked! I asked “It’s a hotel, right? And I reserved a room, no? I’m confused. How is this possible!?” She wasn’t being accommodating so in my panic… Sweet Sheyda insisted that I stay there too. I did. And it was perfect!
Iri and I were able to wake up late, stroll over to Vivoli for her coffee, weave back through my favorite streets where we picked up our luggage and made our way to the train station. Arriving in Lucca on the wedding day, I dropped my things off at Jason’s – my gay date hero this weekend who also became my roommate for the night when he saved me from that hotel debacle. I went for the long walk on the famous Lucca wall to gab with my mother, had a mini glass of wine, more of those yummy only-in-Italy-kind-of marinated artichokes and a skinny cigarette at a precious mini bar on Via Veneto, and then went to doll up for the wedding of a lifetime, and cab over to Villa Grabau.
The more everyone came into focus that night — as ironically the night became more blurry with the flow of champagne — we all realized that we’re all the same! We’re all Americans who have moved (or spend a TON of time) over to Europe to try it out. To live. To learn. To get out of the US. To sell everything (yes, they all did what I did too. So happy to hear I wasn’t the only lunatic who needed to rid herself of EVERYTHING before I hopped the pond) and go for it.
I loved this group. I loved everyone I met. I loved that they all immediately started talking about North Nodes with me (my favorite topic). Close your eyes, Simon… we talked about stars, about the nature of affairs, and the irony (or lack thereof if you ask us) of where our planets are / will be during huge upcoming elections. And then, we danced! Lord did we dance!
At 12:30am the lights turned on and images of every drunk soul, with grape stained lips from the red wine (and Negronis, and Manhattans, and … you name it!), was shoveling the last pieces of cake into their mouths. Celest, a friend of Sheyda’s from NYC by way of Australia, told me “this is my first wedding.” My instant response? “Hummmmmm! Mama, LOWER THE BAR. Literally. You will NEVER experience this kind of wedding again. EVER.” She started with the top. Lucky her!
I glanced over to Jason, my date. Gave him the signal. He called the cab — I snagged a bottle of bubble water for our ride. I was mid-gulp when the waiter came over to forbid me to leave with it. Ha! Drunken American’s he probably thought – they just take what they want. Although he gave me no such attitude. Only compliments … as a true Italian.
Jason gave me the bedroom as he took the couch that night. He left the apt the next day at 6:30am (!!!!!!!!!) and I followed soon after. (Because, if you’re anything like me. You know how that goes. When you’ve danced the night away, laughed your ass off, talked to umpteen new people, and are responsible for having drunk about 7 bottles by yourself. You don’t sleep. At 6:30am I was wide awake.) I left the apartment by around 7 and went to Buccellato Taddeucci (most famous establishment in Lucca!) to drink a cappuccino on Piazza San Michele.
With time to spare, I strolled to the train station the long way. (I got turned around several times, so the stroll soon became a jog.. then RUN).
I arrived back in Florence some 2 hours later. I went to Helvetia & Bristol to drop my bag (the doorman had fallen in love with me the night of the rehearsal dinner so it was no problema! He was an old oversized Italian man who would be fired on the spot in the great US of A if he behaved the way he was here… as he wouldn’t let go of, or stop kissing, the women guests hands. Killed me!)
I then went to the Ponte Vecchio where I tried on insanely expensive, vintage, gorgeous rings that I had spied days before. And then… I finally got to dine at my all time favorite, Trattoria Cammillo (they were OPEN this day), where they make homemade tagliatelle – It is like eating a could! And the waiters sneak over a taste of dessert with a mini sip of a digestif – when you’re dinning solo and female. Luck me! I had both covered!
I stayed there for two hours as I ordered three courses. (What?! I’m a wanna-be-Italian! That’s what we do!) and then slowly made my way back to the hotel to retrieve my bags and be Paris bound.
Before I left – I stopped by Frida Querida to buy a bathing suit. I am simply wild about the owner of this brand. We have mutual friends from Tulum we realized as we shared our experiences, and she taught me how to wear her designs. I want to be her when I grow up!
It was the all time best trip. Food for my soul (literally and figuratively).
PARIS THINGS
The day after I returned from Italy, I modeled for MIRTH – the coolest sustainable clothing brand. And while I was on my third outfit change, my assistant… excuse me.. Better known as one of my best friends, Caroline, showed up on the scene. She came to visit me for the weekend from Metz. We had a ball. We gabbed, we laughed, we smoked skinny cigs, we walked the entire city, we tried on rings for hours at Salomé Rico (where I almost didn’t take mine off as you can see below), we got caught in the rain, we made dinner together with Miranda at home, and we spent time together on Sunday going through all my things. It was a very tender weekend and I couldn’t have been more thankful to have her with me.
I have so many more things to share… from things that happened before I went to Cannes – all the way to things happening since I’ve been fully back from Italy. Alas, that’s my limit for now.
Olympic barricades are in full force around the city and James Chocolatine and I are having a time finding different routes. But it’s fun! There’s a buzz and a silence as so many places/streets are shut down. I have loved being a biker this week. I feel this is what dreams are made of: Biking in peace on the usual horn-honking streets of the City of Love.
Xxo ac