I had a call with my astrologer this past week. She said, and I quote “Your chart is littered with an ‘I won the lottery’ kind of luck this coming year, AC. It will feel like you’ve caught the tailwind of pure F.L.O.W.” Eeeeep. Pinch me! So far.. She’s right on track (as always). Let me share what I mean…
I heard back from my landlord today that she will accept (not only will accept, but will HAPPILY accept) my deposit that I paid her six months ago as my final month’s rent. What?! This, I’ve heard, never happens in France – Using your deposit as the final month's rent. As you will all recall I tried to do that way back when I rented my apartment in Le Marais. They weren’t having it at all! But on the golden streets of Île Saint Louis? Where evidently only angels like Simona (my landlady) live? It does!!!!! Call it the luck of the stars (as I do) – but my astrologer was right on. I’d say this was a winning the lottery moment! And the tailwind? That came when I too got a text early this morning from Elisa, my sweet friend from Charleston, who is visiting Paris with her sisters, aunt, mother and grandmother until Wednesday. Her text read something like “Yes! You can absolutely send two checked bags with me to the US.” Luck on luck and tailwind caught. So grateful!
As it continues here in France, I have heard exactly NOTHING from the government in regards to my visa. What used to frustrate me, now is making me feel calm. It feels as though it’s not meant to be in some odd way. Even though, those who know me best, (who worked with me, have been a roommate/best friend, or been on a trip with me) know that I am overly detailed (hell! By reading En Route each week you could know that!). So, overly suppling documents and verifications to the Government, I thought, would be a good thing — that it would actually help my chances by being overly detailed – not deter them. But alas, here we are. And here I am having to ask for these types of things (using deposit as rent so as to not have to be owed any euros, and sending clothes back to my home country by way of friends in the case that I will have to hurry and leave) as I have NO IDEA what the next 46ish days have in store for me here en France.
A FRIEND KNOWS WHO YOU ARE IN ONE SECOND. THE OTHERS, THEY NEVER WILL.
This nugget of wisdom was dropped on me early this week by one of my gurus and GOOD LORD is it a mic-drop truth. I have always known someone will be a friend within one second of meeting them.
Fortunately I have seen a ton of my one second friends this week and it has been one upgrade after the next!
Tuesday, waking up from a deep slumber. I’m telling you! If you’re in need of a good night’s sleep – drug induced – buy THIS cough syrup! I have never been one to take medicine electively. But this? It’s my happy taste (yummy caramel!), that always leads me to my happy Zzzzzz night sleep! I take a swig several times a week to make the nights come sooner and the mornings evidently come later. Because oh my GAWD it was late when I woke up to the best text ever. Miranda, who I hadn’t seen in over a month, was ON my block wanting to meet me for a coffee. I threw myself together and then threw myself into another tailwind that carried me right to her. She, my sweet always running a litttttttle late girlfriend, was there. On time! Waiting for me outside in the freezing cold. This typically never happens. But what can I say? Luck of the lottery!
We decided to stroll across the bridge to Le Bar des Maillets d’Argent. When she took off her jacket, I nearly stumbled back from the sheer cuteness of her belly! It was like, whoa — that brand new (two months ago) little “bun in the oven” had turned into a full-on "baby on board" bump! She looked absolutely adorable in her overalls, which she said were the only thing that fit her right now (so precious). After we sipped on our très chic — though très overpriced — lattes, I walked her to her bike, then went off to wander. I explored the streets of my little private island, soaking in every moment of the Parisian magic. This city! Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder what I’ll do without her, if that time ever comes. I’m just completely smitten with her at times like these!
Wednesday morning I rose early (clearly I had withheld the desire for that yummy sleep syrup the night before) to meet my new friend, who I met in London, Kishan, at Laïzé. This is my new favorite tea place right beside Palais Royal. I was the first one in.
[**PSA: You’re lucky if you find a coffee shop or tea house in Paris that actually opens before 10am. Kills me. American’s: We think about the demand and then meet the demand with a supply. We learn this at all major Universities in Economics 101. We do this to make money. I know.. I know.. That’s our reputation. Always thinking about the almighty dollar. But in a simple case like this one, I’m not sure it’s just Americans who would consider the math on the hours opened, given what is being served, so that the demand could be met. You know? Let me explain. Most people in search of a coffee shop are usually searching because they need caffeine. And typically they need caffeine in the, I don’t know, mornings!!!!!?? Alas, in America we would see that need and then say ‘we should open at the earliest hour possible in order to supply that need. And voilà! With that, money will be made!’ Alas – I have learned that Parisians have a different view. They are more of the mindset: ‘The customers will come when we’re ready to serve. And if they don’t. C’est la vie. We’ll close early. Or? Better yet, we’ll even close a full day randomly if we want. We won’t even tell them! But for whatever it’s worth, we will NOT change our hours to meet the need of the caffeine-deprived people. We will just stick to opening not a second before 10am.’ **]
So, that’s when we went. At 10am exactly, we got our caffeine when the doors unlocked.
I learned that my new friend was actually writing a comedy bit about the differences between London and Paris. He was visiting both cities for his first time while over in Europe.
He told me that his most alarming observation thus far was that London was more snooty than Paris. I loved that! I have always found that too! I love love love London. And France typically gets that snooty wrap. (Don’t get me wrong – Parisians can have a judgement air about them. But who am I kidding? So can us New Yorkers!!!) He went on to explain about how he noticed it so clearly the night we danced from 2024 into 2025 in the Royal City. Watching the way I danced (uh oh! Hahahaha Was he referring to my floor slapping, twiring, dipping, grabbing different dance partners mad woman moves??!) to the way the London ladies danced. He said it was so interesting to see how free Americans looked with music pumping in comparison. (I have a sneaky feeling that Americans will too be roasted in his comedy routine of his — all thanks to moi! and my dance-capades.) But back to the city comparison. He too mentioned that he has seen more Asians here in Paris and that it has made him feel more at home – more familiar. It was an incredible conversation. I so enjoyed our morning chat and seeing this city through his eyes.
He beamed when he talked about his career so far – as he should. It was so impressive! He has accomplished SO MUCH and all from taking one leap – writing a script. To two asking his uncle if he knew a videographer. To three being introduced to his uncle’s only point of reference - his wedding videographer. Four, learning that this particular videographer was in fact a film director. So five, gladly shot Kishan’s first written film. (Hummmm what? Talk about a lottery win!!! Kishan hit the jackpot.) Since then, age 15, he has been in tv, movies, hosted countless large televised shows and is now taking a stab at stand-up. He is hilarious, so I can only imagine that this too will be a lottery win kind of career for him! I can not wait to see where he goes, how many knee-slaps he gets at his next comedy tour describing his view of London in comparison to Paris, and what award shows we’ll be hearing his name announced at in the future. He is too … on a tailwind. I can feel it!
Speaking of award shows. How terrible all the LA fires were this past week. Simply devastating. All of my friends who I was able to connect with are fine, thank god, (I hope yours were too!!!!) and had moved out of their homes at the very beginning of the flames. I was lucky enough (again) to be with two of my favorite LA one second friends here in Paris this past week, Sarah and Kris. I aimed to hold space for them as they talked through their city going up in flames. It was such a sad, devastating demolition of history. Of property. Of homes, memories, traditions, prestige, and a lot of devastation to aware show recipients. I will be shocked if the Foreign Press continues with the Oscars this year on schedule, although the Grammy’s are first. And yet if they do, I’ll aim to see it as a nice reprieve for everyone in an attempt to honor what was lost weeks before in their La La Land. I am thankful that neither of my friends' homes caught fire – but it has been a wakeup call to me. THIS IS BIGGER THAN US. Life, I mean. I always think it’s so funny when we think we have control of anything and then we get the BIG reminder that we have NO CONTROL. Except to live in LOVE. And that means being in LOVE with our planet too. If we take care of her – she will take care of us! If we don’t, she’ll find a way to cause an uproar to get noticed. We then, undoubtedly, cause suffering.
After a full week of one second friend visits with Jaci and Kris at Saint Regis on Île Saint Louis, where we snuggled into a booth and gabbed about all the things that have happened this past year since we last got together! (Funny how time can fly unless you make a plan.) We also thought it funny that we were a table of Producers — yet all having different perspectives on the situations that life has recently presented us with. It was an upgrade to be with fellow Americans living in Paris who have had the same jobs (ish), dated the same people (personality wise), who have lived in NYC and who have been responsible for crazy amounts of work and people at a given time in our careers. Also who love a good time! They’re meeting me tomorrow night for a Design Week soirée à Paris.
And then a fantastic and lively visit with one of my favorite Charlestonians one second friends, Elisa, who I got to know quite well at The Charleston Library Society. She sat on our Board and on Wednesdays she would bring her FOUR boodles in for story time. Nicholas, one of the twins, was my baby. I cradled him every chance I got (picture for proof below at our Inaugural Eggs in the Stacks Easter egg hunt that I helped dream up and launch) – and would sneak the others candy from my office. She is on a family girls trip here and it was a highlight of my week to sit around the table with three generations seeing the pure LOVE and respect pour out of each of them and into the other. What a gift! When trying to decide on a meeting spot for lunch we both randomly sent: Miznon as an option. Tailwind!!! I had been wanting to try this place since Fanny and Patrick sent it to me months ago. The move here? Is to order their famous beef bourguignon pita (you read that correctly – looked delicious, four out of the six of us had that), the lamb kebab (my order and re-order worthy), and the cauliflower pita (scrumptious).
Lottery win of the week being with all of these wonderful one second friends! Lucky me!!!
And cherry on top of my ladies who lunch week sundae? A snuggledown with my favorite French American! She answers to the name of bébé Margaux. And I, I now answer to… wait for it! Wait for it! Aunty AC! Ahhhhhhh tailwind to the boodle swoons.
“AUNTY AC, I LOVE YOU!”
Sitting in the chicest outside covered garden, adorned with heat lamps, at Casa Luisa, I spotted my fellow city girls – a boodle and her mama. Margaux saw me and instantly lit up. Highlight of my, well, life! She recognized me! A moment every proud “aunty” dreams of. I haven’t seen her in two months. But she immediately came over to kiss me and sit on my lap. (I’m not fully convinced that she didn’t spy the obvious gift in front of me that I had brought for her before she decided to snuggle down. But I don’t care one little bit. If a present gets me that kind of snuggle – then forget Aunty! Call me Santa Claus — because I’ll be bringing a sack of gifts every time I know Margaux will be near me.)
I spotted this toddler size denim hat with an American flag back in my hometown of Conway. It was an absolute MUST purchase moment. Margaux had to have this! Her papa, Nico, a born and reared Frenchman but an American at heart (he went to Texas for an internship around 15 years old, fell in love with the US of A, so returned to attend Dartmouth College and then stayed living in Boston for nearly 10 years before returning back to Paris to meet his American sweetheart), and of course her mama, Miranda, born and reared American but a Francophile forever and ever, amen! She had to have this hat!! They loved it! (Especially when she turned it backwards — as a real American actually would! HA!)
Margaux is learning both French and English at full speed. French fills her day — at creche, with family and with her grandparents, who speak it as their native tongue. English takes over her mornings and evenings, courtesy of mama and papa — that’s the goal. Miranda doesn’t respond to her in French at all. Instead, she repeats everything Margaux says in English. For example, all I heard throughout the day from bébé Margaux was “Où est aunty AC?” and “assieds-toi ici Aunty AC.” And then her mama would respond with, “Yea. Where is Aunty AC? Oh! She is there. She can sit here.” My sweet little boodle switches effortlessly between French and English. I’m so beyond proud of this EDIBLE munchkin!!
Later in the day, when the boodle needed a diaper change and was not having it one little bit we had to remind her that this is what city girls must do. We must use the loo anytime there is a clean one available. For us, we don’t have the luxury of “waiting until we get home.” Because getting home could be the issue in itself. There could be a metro delay (always!), a car wreck making our Uber driver choose a less than ideal route to get around it all, or worst of all, having to walk and then it hitting you mid-stride when the only option is the forbidden… Public Restroom. No, boodle! We’re going to distract you while we hold you down and do this! You’ll thank us later that we’re not doing this on the cold park bench for all the world to see. A golden rule of city girls: when at a gallery, cinema, store, restaurant, or, in this case, the clean Musée Marmottan Monet, you go to the loo! Even if you don’t have to.
When we arrived at the park, Margaux was holding my hand like it was her job, and I was more than happy to be pulled along by her tiny grip. We spotted the Carousel, and two little girls were playing "catch the ring" — a game where, while riding their carousel horses, they try to hook small rings hanging from a rack with batons they’re given before the ride starts. I learned that this game dates back to Louis XIV of France, and in fact, Marie Antoinette, another city girl, was especially fond of playing it at Versailles. It was absolutely precious to watch! Of course, Margaux was completely captivated. She was too young to play, so instead, we strapped her into the "horse’s carriage," a little carriage-like contraption that the ride conductor pushed, while Margaux went wild on the ropes that the bells were on. She tried her hardest to make them ring — but no sound came out. What. A. Boodle! She had no idea the man behind her was making the bells sing as we cheered her on. She just sat there, mesmerized. And so did her mama… and her Aunty AC.
The best part of the day? Are you ready for this? "I love you!"
I must have said it every time she looked at me. Because I just can’t stop, won’t stop. Try saying anything else to a baby who looks THAT CUTE (I meannnn look at those pictures!!), recognizes you, and instead of getting shy, lights up with excitement to get a snuggle, who’s memorized your name, and will proudly announcing it to anyone who’ll listen? I couldn’t resist showering her with kisses and blurting out “I love you” over and over anytime I caught her eye. She caught on quickly. After her mama and I were kicked off the seesaw for being too big (we were told it’s only for 8-year-olds — haha. But when we looked around we noticed we were about the same size as some of the kids playing. So funny!), we took her to pet the ponies that were feeding. And then, after reluctantly strapping her into her stroller, I waved "au revoir" and said "I love you" for the trillionth time that day. And you know what I heard? Just as I turned to walk away a little "I love you" — muffled through her binky. I almost got whiplash turning so fast to praise her. I pulled the pacifier out and kissed her right on the lips. Ahhhh, the highlight of my day! Miranda too looked so proud. It was an upgrade of a moment! Her best friend and her bebe are in LOVE! Can there possibly be anything better in the world?
I am off in a few hours for another home cooked meal and a cozy night in, where I may or may not INSIST that we look up at the moon and all her glory. Last night simply amazed me. How is it possible that we get to live on a planet with a show like THAT every night. Every night the sky is different – new showing – new glowing. New moon!
Speaking of home cooked meals and showings – last weekend was kicked off by a home cooked meal of Soupe Paysanne. And it was delightful! This stew simmers for hours upon hours while you’re left to do whatever you want (gab for hours, which check, we did!, drink a full pint of beer each, which another check, we did that too!, and enjoy the aroma wafting from the kitchen wherever we chose to be in the apartment, check check check, it did!). Evidently, not only is it left to simmer without needing much attention, when it gets close to serving, grilling the sausage is in order. The sausage is removed, sliced and grilled for two minutes on each side, then placed back into the pot to release all that yummy oily char. My jaw hurts just writing about it. It was delicious and the perfect pairing for a freezing cozy night in!
And the showing… Conclave was on the big screen this weekend and we were front and center – almost nearly the very front and center row! It was mind blowing! In fact, I think if Roger Ebert was still with us he would have reversed his famous blistering review of the film North (“I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it.) – with “I loved this movie. Loved loved loved loved loved this movie. Loved it. Loved every stunning-brilliant full audience-applauding moment of it.” Truly. The costumes, the set, the mood, the changing of languages, and ummmm the acting by Ralph Fiennes and Stanley Tucci? WOW! It made me go back to when I saw the Pope almost two years ago. To consider the prestige that this particular burden (as they referred to this job as in the movie) has – the droves of people who rush out to see the person with this title, who pass their babies off to strangers to get them closer to the Pope for a blessing, the brides who wear their wedding gowns to be prayed for by the Pope when he is in a city square, and the priests, who have taken a sworn oath of celibacy and steadfast faith in order to serve this one man, who is believed to have a direct line to the BIG MAN. It is all fascinating to me! And I was there, front row – glued in two years ago in real life – and glued in this weekend in a comfy cinema seat!
Until next week, when I write again about my days in London – I’ll be En Route there to see Erika on Friday — I’ll be riding my tailwind to a few Design Week parties here à Paris. Lucky, lucky ME!
As I mentioned earlier, I am beginning to see my time here as limited – starting NOW. Therefore, I am trying to find solutions as to how I can get my belongings back in the Land of the Free, trying to figure out ways to spend what I have in my French bank account (that should not be a problem given all the beautiful shops that I have resisted since living here without a job/income), and mostly, trying to soak it all in – every ounce as if I’m leaving but with appreciation as if she is still going to be my home. The unknown is where it lies. I am not being pessimistic – just being logical that this time, getting an extension on my visa may be interdite (forbidden).
So, while I’m living here legally, I will ride my tailwind of lucky streaks à Paris!
Xxo ac
A lovely read as always! Looking forward to hearing your London dispatch – always so fun while I'm living here. Recently saw Conclave at a gorgeous East London cinema and LOVED it as well!