SHHHH… KEEP IT DOWN

NOISE POLLUTION, KITCHEN DANCE PARTIES, AND COINCIDENCES

Feb 02, 2024

WHAT A TRIP

My dear friend Caroline came to see me for a night last weekend. She lives in Metz, which isn’t far from Paris, but as life goes, it has felt very far — as we haven’t had an opportunity until JUST this past weekend to get our hands around one another since I made the move over.

I left class on Friday at lightning speed. Hurry Metro… take me to SoHo! When I arrived, she was waiting for me in the lounge – looking chic! Ah, to be born French! The effortless elegance is something that just comes to you at birth.

We made our way down to my salon, oops, I mean the women's locker room – where I may or may not act as though it’s my living room most of the time I’m there – to steam and sauna. We had a lot to catch up on, and since I knew we had a long night ahead of us, (Simon and Caroline were meeting for the first time!!! (Ahhhh when it goes well in France, and I knew it would this night with two of my favorites meeting one another, “a drink” can easily turn into “too many drinks” (that may or may not, but definitely did, happened at Maison Proust with their famous bartender Collin. Who Simon recognized instantly from the years that Collin took up residence at the Ritz Bar Hemingway — mixing up the best martinis Paris had to offer. (Simon also recognized Paul Watson, a Canadian Activist who is better known as the Sea Shepherd, and spent nearly an hour applauding his work) and a very late night dinner, that could also be considered a breakfast depending on what you select as your dish at that particular hour (that too may or may not, but definitely did, happens at Cafè Charolt) – Caroline and I decided to walk home to get fresh air from SoHo House, be on the streets of Paris, and catch up.

It wasn’t two minutes into Caroline enthusiastically telling me about her renovations on her new apartment, when all of a sudden the little old lady in front of us came to a screeching halt. She made an audible sigh, and let out a loud and intentional “oh la la la la.” The passive French equivalent to the American stink-eye. [Sidebar. While Simon and I were in Bretagne over the new year, he too let out one of these extra long (and extra loud), very intentionally sounds. That if you could break it down in words would be: I’m-letting-you-know-with-my-verbal-eye-roll-that-you’re-annoying-me when he woke up at 5am to my eeeeek sound machine. He hates it. “Ah la la la LAAAAAA.” I pretended not to hear him so I could keep snoozing – just like I pretended not to see the lady who was directing this sound our way. Ha!) Caroline was being volume shamed. She was being too loud for this woman and was being told to shhhhh via the “ah la la la la.”

In all honesty, I thought it was a joke the first time it happened to moi. But the longer I’m here, the more I see it happening on repeat to so many people (including their own — the French. Like this.) and in so many different situations. Parisians don’t have a problem letting you know they hate whatever it is you’re doing that’s disrupting them.

Moi aussi! I secretly love it! They’re doing exactly what I have always done (in the American stink-eye version), and wanted to do (in the outloud, real-life version) my whole life. Just tell people how I would like them to behave around me to make MY life better!

Just a few years ago I was voted the biggest bitch of the family. It’s been a running joke, as my step father was a close second, and my 2nd cousin, who should have 100% stolen the election because she says exactly what she wants and gets away with, was 3rd. Now that I’m over here, I take pride in this title. I like to believe that I won because of my inevitable Parisian ways! I was raised to “say what you mean, just don’t say it mean.” However, usually I forget that last part! But c’est la vie! I get a pass now. I’m French!

Ok… one more story then I’m off this savon box.

There was one night when I was on a call with my friend Vivien, strolling through my beautiful city, and got shushed and mocked by a man walking in front of me. Yep! I was mocked … out loud and in REAL TIME. Do they have no shame?! (again, I secretly love to hate it!) And it wasn’t my speaking volume that he was mocking — it was MY SHOES. He started stomping in front of me. Continually turning around to make sure I knew this parade of juvenileness was targeted at moi. Kills! Evidently having a sturdy sole with a strong sounding heel isn’t something Parisians care to hear when they’re walking the streets. I never consider clippy cloppys in the noise-pollution category, but alas, here, all sounds are evidently game.

BONNE IDÉE

En route to the train station the next morning to deliver Caroline to Hall 6 – Metz bound – we had some really great conversations. I was helping her with her figure out a daily structure, how to prioritize actionable strategies for work-flow etc. (excuse me as I push my nerd glasses up with my pointer finger right about now and hold back my attempt to attach an excel spreadsheet with an organization plan), and she was giving me a good dose of “you’ve got this” pep talk as we brainstormed job opportunities for me over here.

(Quick little PSA.I am SO READY to work. So if you hear of anything… pass it on! Now that I’m settled and feeling in flow I want to put on my loud clippy cloppy heels – roll up my sleeves and work! Earn some moolah, dinero, dolla dolla bills y’all, euros!)

Anyway….

She put on her thinking cap. Not ten minutes after she left me I started receiving links to places that she had thought about for me to reach out to. One thing she also did was introduce me to my newest chic friend.

Enter Victoria. Victoria is the American sister in law of one of Caroline’s best French friends. She is from Wisconsin and moved here some 10 years ago. We took our rendezvous at Le Café Crème around the corner from both of us in Le Marais during the middle of the week. When you hear the French words coming out of her mouth, even though she was born and raised on the good ol’ soil of the USA, you would think she was born and reared HERE in France. So elegant and chic!

She was a wealth of knowledge and excited to help me navigate the “what’s next” phase of this move of mine. It was fun and wildly informative and inspirational to have this discussion with her. It motivated me on a different level. So … thank you all who were the recipients of my rapid-fire-texts that night and answered me about any leads on positions and / or ideas of outside-of-the-box job hunting strategies. I have the coolest friends with the coolest connections. So you know who you are! You are all SO supportive. Thank you!

I have actually found this over and over and over here. Support from expats. Actually, tremendous support and willingness, from expats. In fact, I have too already started to pay-it-forward in terms of advising those who want to hop the pond and are navigating the impossible, but doable, French Visa process. (Another quick PSA: If you’re planning on coming … holla!.. I have everything in a checklist excel doc. Again, pushing those nerd glasses up high and with pride).

I also got together with Mel this week. My new Australian friend who I met back in SoHo House a few weeks ago. We drank hot chocolates and ate quiche at Place des Vosges from Carette – my favorite!

The day that Caroline took the train out of Paris, in came Sheyda and Kevin – my two friends from Atlanta. Sheyda was the head of SoHo House in Atlanta and Charleston. So before I moved, she asked me to serve on the membership board for the Charleston House. We became fast friends. She is one of the chicest people I know – with a style that DOES. NOT. QUIT! We dined at Chez Janou on the Saturday night. One of my favorites, as you all know by now. But one that I will keep to a two person date place moving forward. It’s a precious cozy (yet crowded) restaurant that is accompanied with a bit of bump-in service and a melody of broken plates and shattering glasses around you. Accidents happen when the place is tight. I love it anyway!

My chic little mini sized friend – now over in Paris and showing me the most beautiful tapestry that she was considering purchasing from the vintage market the day before. Her taste is impeccable! I will get to see her again on the backend of her trip (and take a picture of us this time) – as she made Paris the stop-over city en route to Cape Town for a wedding with her fiancé Kevin.

By the end of the dinner, discussions were around Simon’s thoughts on the American version of all things French. My favorite question.. “so what did you think about Les Mis?”

TIE DRESS

On Sunday, after Simon made me the best meal ever — Lentilles du Puy — while I studied, we watched two more episodes of Ozark. (he’s hooked I’m telling you!) And then we went for a stroll in Le Marais. We came across this shop with a tie dress in the window. It shocked me. I told Simon that I used to make purses like that when I was in highschool with my grandfather’s old ties — but that I would have no idea where those would be today.

Ok buckle up.

Because then. I am NOT joking when I say that the very next morning I woke up to a text from my mother with the words “a bit of nostalgia” and a picture of that VERY tie purse I had just told Simon about — out of NOWHERE. Connection. Evidently my sister has been re-carrying it lately and my mama was there visiting her so snapped a shot. The was the first coincidence of my week.

LIFE, LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF THE PERFECT PARISIAN NIGHT

Last night I had one of the best nights of the month so far (I know, I know, we’re only 2ish days in – but still!).

Let me begin by saying – It’s impossible to know good, unless you’ve also experienced bad. With that, you’ll now understand why my night was so good…

I had had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day at school. I was ready to fight my poor teacher who literally couldn’t do anything right in my eyes (and probably because with my eyes I still can’t see her full face due to her mask! She wears it everyday as if we’re still in the throes of a COVID outbreak. I’m learning a language. I mean (here comes that “ah la la la la” Parisian in me and the reason I hold the reign as the biggest bitch of the family but…) you would think that it would be immensely helpful, and most likely, typically, ummmmm KEY to learning a language, only when you can see your professor’s mouth. Alas… to no avil.) So, I was very frustrated that day. We had begun to learn future and past tense and all I can say is … crank up Queen’s.. I Want to Break Free. Everything sounds the same at the moment to me in French. Frustrations with her, yet mostly myself, were running on high.

Also that day, I went to the post office to find out that the package, which was never attempted for delivery at my Paris address, was not only not there anymore. It had been there and in holding since January 15 – but was sent back on the 28th! This day was the 31st. Devastation. I had missed it by hours. My Christmas gifts were in there! The taste of my mama’s cookies were in there! The sweet cards that I just knew my family had written were in there!

Yes, if you’re wondering. I did let myself cry hard about this – just for a few seconds though. Can’t help what’s already been done. But still! I was missing home.

After my boo hoo (sob), I went straight to meet Maureen, Simon’s sister in law who I am rapidly falling in love with. She’s so welcoming and wonderful. She and her friend were getting lunch together and she had invited me to tag along – since her friend was American. (Did you catch my “was” in there? She’s a French citizen now.) We went to Haikara and it could not have been a better reset for me. Instantly walking in I was reminded of An Choi (RIP) in NYC. Hands down my favorite hole in the wall place for a bowl of hot-slurpy-noodles.

There, I had my second coincidence of the week. For background, I had just expressed to Simon two nights before that I wasn’t feeling wild about my apartment. Caroline had even noticed that I wasn’t nesting. She told me that I’m treating this place like an Airbnb and not like my home – which isn’t far from the truth.

I was feeling that it meant I must not really love it, so I started to look for new apartments on the night of the 30th – the night before I met up with Maureen.

In Paris you only have to give one month's notice to leave a place. Therefore, since we were on the tail end of January, and I knew I would need a few days to figure it out, I was searching for only move-in dates starting on March 5th.

After about an hour of searching I decided - NO! It’s overwhelming. I need to love this place. I chose it, it was so easy for me to get — which was a sign at the time that it was flow — my neighborhood is wonderful, as are my neighbors. I made a shift in my heart and mind and decided to really commit to loving my four walls. It felt like a release once I had changed my mind.

And as these kinds of stories go… once you’re relaxed/released and not worried about the outcome. Something can, and usually does, come to you.

So, after Maureen’s friend left the lunch, Maureen told me that she was having some contrariété (annoyances) that day. She told me that the apt that she owns in the 10th Arrondissement (an area I was considering just the night before) was about to change over. The couple who had been renting from her for years had just broken up – so they would be moving out. She was feeling stressed to find someone to…. wait for it, wait for it, move in on March 5th! Same date, size, and neighborhood I was looking for. And the price range that was less than what I’m paying now — so in short, it was perfect.

Alas, not to keep you in suspense – I am not taking her apartment. I truly have made a switch and have decided to really love my place. Because it’s PRECIOUS. However, I took the timing of it all as a sign from the universe that regardless of what you need/want everything is possible at any time. You just have to let go. It all presented itself to me… when I was at ease… when I had stopped looking. GREENLIGHT.

(And, my friend Amanda is coming to town the weekend after next. I plan to recruit her to go with me to the vintage markets so that I can buy some rugs and cool tapestries etc on Saturday to jazz up this precious home – to make it mine!)

Continuing on to the part making it the BEST PARISIAN NIGHT…

I then biked my vélo over to see my friend Seldon, who I knew for years in NYC, and who lives here too – for five-ish years now. We visited over the summer once or twice, but tonight was going to be the first time we were getting together since I had moved in October. She looked fantastic! We could have stayed tucked in that nook at Le Vin au Vert for HOURS. We talked about her job hunting, apartment searching, her boyfriend's new sandwich shop – Maison Toto, my Simon, my school, and my apt. We covered all the bases and have plans to see each other again already next week!! So happy to have her back in my life.

OH!

And then, while we were unlocking James Chocolatine (that comes next) and possibly enjoying a skinny cigarette, Marshall entered on stage left! Do you all remember him?! He is the guy who I met with Seldon on the first or second week I was in Paris over the summer. Also an expat American who had told me that he’s “hacking life.” Figuring out all the ways to live in France with all the vacation time / easy way of living – yet work for an American company to earn all the money and get the best benefits. Last summer he took me to Sacré-Coeur - to jog your memory. We all took a little selfie to prove that the random run-in (in neither of our neighborhoods) had happened because.. As I’ve said one trillion times… Paris est un petit monde!

I sped biked to Simon’s (already 15 minutes late) for the BEST DINNER I think we have ever had. He teases that I say that after each one of the meals he makes – but no teasing necessary. They really are always the best dinners! They get better and better. He made risotto, his famed and perfected dish, for his two dear friends (and now mine too), Johanna and Jerome.

They stayed until midnight. We had a ball. Laughed all night and just felt so at home!

After they left, Simon and I were in the kitchen catching up about our day while we tidied. I dropped in there that I was testing out a new name for my bike, Arizona. Top of the list “Pain au Chocolat” or “Chocolatine” for short. He asked.. “Because she’s brown?” And not one second after my “oui” he said James Brown. I loved it! But she needed a somewhat girl's name. We combined the two.

James Chocolatine (JC) was decided then and there!

By the time we had finished cleaning, we were chanting “AC JC” on repeat and starting to dance in the kitchen. Shhhhh don’t tell him I’m letting you in on this precious and special tradition we’ve started. But typically after everyone leaves his apartment from an incredible dinner – we break out in dance. Usually Otis Redding is blaring and one of us (let’s be honest, when it’s Otis, it’s ummm ALWAYS moi) takes center stage and dances/performs. But tonight, it was a celebratory dance for my new bike's name. So we made our own music with our “AC JC” chats. J'adore ce moment!

Off to Ponthoile today to visit with Simon’s sweet parents for the weekend.

More to come semaine prochaine!

xxo