IN THE MIX
FÊTES AND HUMBLENESS
This week has felt like a month. It has been party… after party… after party. And as much fun as they all have been! I couldn’t be more thrilled that in one day, I will have one solid week with Simon of relaxation… after relaxation… after relaxation (with the obvious four course meal planning and leisure bike rides in the mix).
Pontholie is calling! And we’re picking up!!
IN THE MIX and SOUNDS LIKE UNDERWATER
On Friday, just before we made a beeline to the taxi stand, I double dosed on my ear meds and put on my fanciest black velvet RRL tuxedo blazer (she was screaming for a night out on the town!). I needed to be in full party mode for Margot.
Her 40th birthday soirée took place at Le Basilic and once we arrived it was all I could do to keep my head above water. My ear muffles and echoes had my head feeling submerged in a bubble, in conjunction with swimming amongst ALL new people to moi (with the exception of the birthday girl, Simon, and one of Simon's best friends, Danny). Alas, I was there for the party so I pulled it together and faked it (feeling good) until I made it (had enough liquid courage to make friends).
I had the funniest conversation with Margot when I handed over the small gift that was pretty obvious, in fact. I mean there’s only one thing that is that size and it goes by the name of Vogue Skinny Cigs. She had told me once when we dined together back in Brussels that she doesn’t let herself buy them anymore since she became a mama – yet was more than happy to accept one when offered. She loved smoking back in the day. So.. while she was unwrapping she was laughing hard. She said “Stan (her husband) will hate this … but I will smoke them all tonight!” – Later, when Simon introduced me to Stan, he shared with us that he knew exactly who I was… because Margot didn’t stop talking about me for the full week after our lunch. PRECIOUS! Made me so happy that she considers me a friend too. I had done the same with Simon. (Sidebar: Stan and Margot have invited us, and Danny and his wife for a full week in their summer home at Anthéor, France, this august. We can’t wait!]
I felt so honored to have been invited to attend with Simon – I LOVE Margot and her friends and this was a VERY special… dare I say… exclusive invitation. So, regardless of what all was happening in my muffled head – I was beyond happy to be there.
WE CAN SPEAK ENGLISH IF YOU’D LIKE
I KNOW!!! DAMNIT!!! I KNOW!!!!! But, I don’t “like” right now. What I do “like”.. Is to practice. CLEARLY. Because I am! So stop asking me to switch, thank you very much!!!
Was that loud enough for everyone? Or shall I turn up the volume?!!
PSA to all of France. Or really to everyone in the whole wide world who has people living in their country who are TRYING their very best to speak in a different language: Don’t meet them with anything but AIDE! And enthusiasm. And encouragement. I have been so discouraged this past week – by everyone. I have hated even attempting to speak because the looks are unbearable. The question of “you want to switch to English?” and worst of all being ASKED to switch because I’m” taking too long trying it in French”. I am OVER IT. As everyone who is met with this lack of support should be. It’s awful. So... in short… encourage those who aren’t like you, yet who are trying their damndest to show respect to your said country by learning the native tongue. Show a little gratitude and be thankful that there are those of us still on planet earth willing to learn something new. Don’t robe them (me) of their (my) EFFORT… it dims the light – which is damning for everyone.
Clearly… given my written temper tantrum in the paragraph above… This past week it has happened more times than I can count and I am ready to pop.
Just yesterday, in fact, I had a doctor's appointment near one of Simon and my favorite sandwich shops. So after, I left (with the diagnosis of proche de something oreille and a prescription that is a mile long), I was en route to get lunch and to see where Fanny and Patrick are outfitting their new Parisian bar, La Bonbonnette. (Eeeeeep!! Can’t wait to be the first ones there. It’s so precious!) When I arrived, I thought I had been very clear.
“Etes vous ouvert?” (“are you open?”) the owner's response IN ENGLISH “What do you want?” (he didn’t say it as rude as it comes across when written – it but still – I asked in French and he responded in English.) My response… “Maintenant? Je veux parler en français, s'il vous plaît.” (Now? I want to speak in French, please.) Tears pierced my eyes. I am SICK of this. I actually look forward to going away from Paris for a bit. To be out in the countryside and to actually be appreciated for practicing my French vocabulary with those who don’t know English. It’s like no one gives you a shot here in this city. I have tried to be compassionate – because I know that just like me… they too want to practice a different language (English). But lord! It’s been all I can handle lately to swallow this feeling of discouragement and to do my best to push forward.
FÊTEs
Friday night, at Margot’s dinner party, I sat beside Brice and Martin – two very handsome, very kind, very patient friends of Margot. I loved how she arranged the room. Noone sat beside their partner. Not even her and her husband. I loved it!!!!! This is how I used to arrange my dinner parties when I hosted. Everyone sat far from their partner. Usually these arrangements create intrigue, longingness, romantic endings of the evening with the one you came with because you’ve just had the opportunity to talk with an opposite sex for the last hour and feel new/fresh to them. This is at least what my relationship guru Esther always writes about. And I believe everything she says!
At the head of our table was one of the most elegant women – our master of ceremony if you will. She directed all of the conversations and when she had the floor at one point, she told an outrageous story about her earning a PHD during COVID at ummmmm Harvard. When I asked her what she’s doing with the degree now, she said, “I sign my name with it and I look at it everyday – It’s hanging on my wall!” Hahaha. What??! No. I meant how is she applying it to her work? Best part – she knew that’s what I was asking about yet she does nothing with it. She just wanted to be a PHD. So, she is (15 years later). J'adore ça! Lady BOSS.
She went on to tell us all about the tiny apartment that she and her husband have lived in for over 40 years. And that she wouldn’t change it for the largest palace in all the land – because she gets to look over the Louvre while drinking her coffee each day. Excuse moi??!! It may be tiny… but pretty sure she has one of the most coveted addresses in all of Paris – on the Rue de Rivoli. She went on to say that she thought she’d kill her husband in that tiny space during those years of COVID lockdown but instead, they had a ball! Ah!!! I could eat her up. She is everything I want to be when I grow up. She’s from Venezuela and her husband was born and reared in Paris – she said the main issues and admirations of their relationship is the cultural differences. She said… “when you and your partner are both willing to learn about the other's ways – it’s a recipe for success.” I’ve tucked that nugget away and will certainly apply it with Simon and moi. She gushed about her husband who was seated opposite of her – but way down the long table. He couldn’t hear anything she was saying due to the celebration around him, yet always smiled when they locked eyes. How wonderful is that? He was being praised without being in earshot – just because she was so damn proud of their story. Precious!
Brice had lived in NYC for 10+ years (I think that’s why Margot sat me beside him) and Martin was a tv show producer… a show very similar actually to Antique Roadshow (a show that was mandatory to watch every week my mamee and papa when alive.) And across from me was Philip, Margot’s uncle who was married to my lady-crush, Laurence. (She wore her diamond engagement ring on her pinky. Just like Ricky Lauren does. Très chic!). He sounded as though he came from Britain when he spoke English (turns out, he was raised by an English father and attended boarding school there as a boy), yet when he switched to French – his accent was pure-blood Parisian. I learned that he lives solely on red wine during dinner. Our poor waitress – she was getting her steps in by running back and forth from our table to the seller on his request. Even Simon was asked to “get another bottle” when he popped over for a hello and smooch.
The birthday cake(s) came out, the birthday girl gushed, and the party mixed and mingled. We all switched tables and ended the night close to 2am by standing on the street – trying to figure out if dancing was next, or bed. Bed was for us. My ear at that point was ready for more meds.
I met many people on my own that night. Floated around (rather, would get stuck behind someone’s back and in front of someone’s drink… so had to pretend it was on purpose and engage - even though I didn’t understand half of what people were saying. I felt VERY out of place most of the night,) and did the best I could to start a conversation and fake my way through feeling a part of it all.
I miss my people!!!! So much it hurts at times. I love it here most of the time and yet parties like these. When everyone knows one another, yet I could easily slip out without being missed – it’s lonely. Don’t bring out the violins! I mean… I chose this life. I just have to persevere and make it through the first year. I hear it gets better and easier after you’re on the other side of those 12 months (I have 5 more to go).
To help shift my energy I knew I needed to go outside on Saturday morning. I woke up early and went for a stroll – through the most beautiful and empty Parc Monceau all the way up to the Arc de Triomphe. I listened to a Mel Robins podcast that my mother had sent me with the text “you could have written this one”, ate half of a pastry that was offered to me by the boulangerie owner while I stood in line (with the other 1000 people) waiting to pay for my 2 chausson aux pommes for Simon and me, took a morning nap, did some ear treatments, and then went to lunch with Simon.
We went to Bar des Prés for a sushi lunch. I wasn’t feeling great that day. Again… as much as I love a good party. I also love feeling a part of it. I am right now, naturally, the new one… so the forgotten one most of the time. I was feeling lonely throughout that night and it lingered into the next day – for a WHILE. I miss my people!!!!! I know I’ve already said it … but I do!
We had a delicious meal and rode to and from on his motorbike. We also strolled a bit in the rain (c'est la vie.. The rain will NOT go away. Nor will the winter. Today it has dropped again. Just when I think it’s time to retire the wool pants – I have to unpack them for another week. Simon keeps telling me that “next week it will be better.” He’s been saying that since I arrived in October. Ha! This time though, I believe him. iPhone weather app confirms. Next week the sun will come out and it will be wait for it… 70°!)
HUMBLE TALK
When we returned. In order to rest for our next party that night, I decided to phone a friend in bed (the only place I could receive service since we still didn’t have internet – cozy and like she was here with me). I needed to hear someone familiar, someone whom I love, someone who loves me, someone who isn’t going to ask me about the work situation or about the things that are stressing me out… just a person who wants gab, to listen, to laugh, to give advice, let me sit on their lap, and wants to sit on mine! We had the best conversion for exactly an hour.
Vivian picked up on the second ring. She was in Mexico for a mini getaway after a big shoot in LA. Immediately I was jealous. “Tell me everything. How is the weather? Are you tan? Have you bought all the good coffee beans and making the best cup every morning? Are you cooking at home? Are you drinking tequila or mezcal? Who are you with? Have you shopped? Etc etc”
When I shared where I was mentally at the moment she said “Of course! It’s vulnerable and humbling to move to a different country. Even if you move to one that speaks your language, it is one of the most humbling experiences one can have.” She had lived in Australia (where they speak our language) and had experienced the SAME feelings of misfit-ism (if that’s a word?!).
But, “humbling”??!! What was she talking about? The more she explained it, I realized it actually was the exact word I identify with. And that I will use to describe this change of mine from here on out.
I mean… It's like infancy. I’m learning to walk again. No one (except Simon and Miranda) over here knows knows me. (And they don’t even KNOW me know for all my life.) Everyone who I am meeting knows the AC who has been living in Paris for the past 7 months. The “freespirit” (which is actually, I’d say – the opposite of me. I love a good plan.) who isn’t working at the moment and fill in the blank. They don’t know ME. They don’t know the work I've done. They don’t know how funny I am because my jokes fall (different language/culture thing). They don’t know my routines, or my friends, or my favorite cinemas, or my favorite restaurants, or have never seen my style of home because none of my things are here, or my taste in art, or …. You name it. They don’t know. They only know the new girl in Paris. Viv is right… It’s very humbling to not have an identity. To have lost your ego.
I remember feeling similar when I worked for my father’s company one summer. I went to help the management out and take over a mini golf course for three-ish months. It was the MOST humbling experience of my life. I had just finished working on the Madonna concert in Miami, was being offered a contract to produce the finals weekend of the Volvo Car Open in Charleston, had just finished a contract that I was recruited for in working with renowned RL designers to create a menswear brand in SC, and had moved only a few short years prior from NYC where I held a multitude of cool positions and knew tons of editors, chefs, producers – cool cool people. NO ONE who I worked for, with, or for me that summer could have given a shit. Literally. Not one soul who I had contact with in the company cared about anything I had done or was capable of doing. It was humbling beyond belief.
Alas…
The great part about it. When I accepted that no one cared about what my career was – I managed to really connect with the employees. Checked my ego at the door and stepped into their shoes. Became the cashier, the trash man, the boss, the accountant etc. I inspired them to reach for more and be better each day, I taught them the ways of excellent customer service, and I left them with individual goals. By the end of the summer – they all strived to impress me. Not because I was the owner’s daughter. Not because of what I had done in the past – remember, they didn’t care, they didn’t know — they wanted to impress me because I was one of them. They admired me. They saw I was humbled.
They have continued to keep in touch with me and text me when they’re proud of themselves – getting A+ on their school project, getting engaged, pregnant etc. They were precious, and young, and gave me the school of a lifetime. To be humble.
After I hung up with Viv, Simon and I prepared for our second fête of the weekend. En route to Faustine’s (Simon’s old colleague) 30th birthday party we stopped by to buy her flowers. That’s the beauty about Paris. Just like NYC – flowers are for the taking on every corner! (Sidebar. So are cheap manicures. Y'all know what I’m talking about! NYC is the most $$$ city in the world. One of anyway. And yet you can walk out with perfect nails and toes for under $25!!! I meannnnnn bring that concept HERE!) While Simon was getting cash out of the ATM I chose the flowers and spoke French with the florist. He was VERY kind to me. He didn’t try English at all! I made small talk using words I know. Told him he looked busy and that this rain was probably good for his business. He smiled a lot and the best news yet… he understood me. At the end, while Simon handed over the money, he also said something in rapid-speed to the florist. Then looked at me and said – “I made a gift for you.” About that time a red rose was being handed over. What a sweet moment.
Simon knows my struggles best - especially now that we live with one another. He sees me happy and sad. I know he too feels the pressure of having a foreigner as a girlfriend – making sure to speak in English for me must be tiring for him too! And I’m so appreciative for his efforts and for moments like these when he was lifting my spirits from the discouraged night before.
An hour later, we arrived at a house – that’s right! A house! In paris. It was incredible. I haven’t ever seen anything like it. We entered through a private gate with many houses. I was like a neighborhood within the city. A yard, an additional house in front of the main house, a garden.... It felt like home. Or a home that I want to have, at least, one day. Cozy, lived in, loved, in the heart of a city, and full. Full because Faustine is wait for it… wait for it… one of EIGHT children. And both of her parents were Ministers of state in France– essentially like being in the congress for the US. INSANELY SMART! In fact, her mother was the first woman Minister.
We stayed late again that night too. Ear was throbbing – alas, when you’ve taken the vow to live in Paris… you’ve taken the vow to attend the party at full speed (for all intents and purposes). We danced and I think made our exit after we all belted “It’s Raining Men” – a riot to see straight men, in particular, singing LOUD and happily to this song. France is a different country indeed. Freedom. Everyone just dances and laughs and drinks a ton and is merry most of time.
Sunday, Simon cooked his delicious lentils and sausage while I ironed all the sheets. No dryers over here. Therefore ironing is pretty much essential if you want a cozy, soft, sleep – which we do!!! We also washed all of his curtains. It was a tidy day and I loved it. We then went to the cinema to park-it for 2+ hours at what might very well be the silliest film we have both ever seen. The Challengers. Do yourself a favor. Wait for it on Netflix. You will thank me. It’s the most ridiculous plot. We motored home where he made his second delicious gourmet meal of the day – sauce gribiche with asparagus – French specialty.
DATE NIGHT
I had a date this week with Natacha. Eeeeep. We’re in love! She is the most beautiful woman to look at and her jewelry! Her jewelry!! Oh. My. Gawd!
She has a passion for buying (and wearing) vintage high-end rings. Diamonds galore. When she and I met last month at Roba’s birthday lunch with Alain Passard, she shared with me her plan for starting her own business with this passion. She is a lady boss at work – in finance – but says this desire of hers, to have her own company, won’t quit. Mama!! I hear you! Nothing brought me more happiness that night than while we were on our umpteenth glass of wine and started talking BIZ. Strategy. Timelines. Etc. Makes me salivate. I love it!!! Always have. All my friends call to talk about their business with me. Food for my BibOn (most recent business of mine. RIP) soul.
I don’t know what my next business will be – but I can feel I’ve got another one in me somewhere. We ended the night with plans to see one another again – only this time with our men, Simon and Mark. I can’t wait!
DAY OFF
Wednesday was La Fête du Travail, essentially Labor Day here in France. Simon took the day off (rarity. I don’t think, since we’ve been together, has he taken one of these constant holidays in France off.) To seize the day we biked. All over the city! Before we wound up at La Rôtisserie d'Argent, where we snagged the last hightop under an umbrella. We talked with a brand new girl scout – she was selling muguet (Lilly of the valley flowers). Haha. American girl scouts sell addiction worthy sugar cookies, and here, they sell natural flowers. I showed the little girl what our GS symbol was in the US and she showed me hers. PRECIOUS.
When we arrived at the restaurant, Simon let me sit with Notre Dame straight away. “Do you want to sit here with the beautiful view?” I asked just before I sat. He responded: “Why? I have the most beautiful view in front of me here.” Sweet moment and delicious meal.
We both practically licked our plates clean. That evening we went to have a beer before he biked across town (again) to watch the Paris semi-final soccer match at his best friend Benjamin's girlfriend, Paule’s apartment. I wanted to send her flowers since I wasn’t going. She had had a surgery a few days prior and had told us that she wasn’t in the shape to host people. I had decided to stay home and send the flowers instead.
An hour into Simon being gone – I received a text from Paule and an immediate call. She had snuck into the other room and was making me an offer to send a taxi to get me. She was so impressed with the flowers (and turns out Simon had shared with her just how lonely I have been feeling lately with all the parties) that she insisted that she felt well enough to host me and that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She wanted me THERE! Mind you… I was freshly showered, in undies with pen in hand and Bardot cued up on my computer. I had been switching that show from English to French for the past 30 minutes and studying. I was cozy.
Alas, when Paule calls (much like Ponthoile), you answer.
I have always lived by “always say yes until you have to say no.” So, with that in mind, I got up, didn’t put makeup on (she said that wasn’t allowed. Ha!), and then hired an uber. We kept it a secret from Simon and when I arrived he was very surprised. Simon loves a good surprise – even when I say I have something I want to make for dinner, he’ll respond nine times out of ten with “don’t tell me. I want it to be a surprise.”
Today I got to see my dear friend Miranda for lunch in my neighborhood, at La Succursale and tonight we are hosting Maureen and Matthieu (Simon’s sister in law and brother), and Steve (Simon’s old colleague and dear friend who I haven’t met yet). I am making an apple pie and Simon will repeat two of the incredible asparagus dishes that he tested for us this past week. We are hoping to impress! Afterall …. Steve is a food connoisseur. He owns several establishments here in Paris.
Until the next En Route – xx ac