SLEEP SCHOOL + NIGHTS TO REMEMBER
HIGHLIGHT REEL OF WEEKS FOUR AND FIVE IN PARIS
I took a week off from writing EN ROUTE … sa la vie… but I’m back! And probably won’t do that again. SO MUCH happens in seven days over here. I’m not covering a fraction of the two weeks. Alas… Enjoy the highlights…
That’s what you call it? “Sleeping School?”
I find it ironic that I told Piere this past weekend (a new friend… I’m makin em left and right!) “I don’t skip school” – when he asked if I could go somewhere during the day instead of at night. Bring on the language barrier, he replied with “oh, is that what you say in America? ‘I don’t sleep school’?” I thought it was funny so, so I didn't correct him. And lo and behold turns out I do skip / sleep school!
I stopped my formal studies last week with Marcel (Tubias). He was NOT cutting it. So many of his students withdrew early from the program due to his teaching style (lack thereof). I wanted to stop his classes after the first week but felt I’d be quitting something. It took Jesse, my, dare I say… bestie over here… (who I’ve finally snapped a picture with - proof below) decided to take lessons at my school too. When they accidentally put him in my beginners class, he got to see firsthand what I was dealing with on the Marcel front. After class he told me to RUN, GET OUT, LEAVE… full stop. Sweet Marcel – he’s so precious and yet the worst teacher. It was leaving me irritated each day I left school – not the feelings I wanted have while j’habite à Paris!
I’ve been reimbursed. So now, I’m enrolled in the school of Parisian streets, restaurants, cafés, boulangeries, supermarchés – where I am speaking to ample strangers, waiters, baristas, cash attendants, shop owners, and getting corrected with a side of grin gauche et droite (left and right!). I consider Silvi, at U Spuntinu, to be my Head Master. She shows me her pearly whites each time I walk into her shop and attempt French!
I will miss my tutor, Manon, but we got one last session in over cafe au laits at Marcelle. (I picked the spot. Couldn’t resist the irony of the café name. And ps…it’s really good! So go here if you’re near the hood!) Before I left left school though, I went on the field trip to Maison de Victor Hugo. French author, most famous for Les Misérables. His old house is on the corner of Place des Vosges - My favorite Place in Paris! And now it is clear to me why the cafe that I frequent (and have written about already in an EN ROUTE) on this square – is named, Cafe Hugo. Duh!
(a week of…) NIGHTS TO REMEMBER
I started last weekend off meeting Thibault, a friend who lives on Ile Saint Louis – the smallest island in Paris and probably the most pricey. It’s what you think of when you think Paris. This is where you MUST come when your inner 2.5 year old is throwing a tantrum for a double scoop of glace au chocolat. Berthillon will make everything right in the world. It’s famous, and even at midnight, after our dinner in Place de l'Odeon, when we walked by it, the queue was around the block. Worth the wait!
Walking back to my apartment, in the 8th Arrondissement (although, depending on what side of the block you’re on, I’m in the 9th too) – I was surrounded by swarms of people. The city was alive! I came to an abrupt stop when I passed a gay bar below my stroll on the Seine. Had to get a bird's eye view of the flirtations… and let’s be honest… really … the outfits!!!! Gay men and their outfits. (Insert an Italian kissing their fingers emoji HERE). I wandered through the streets and with each turn there were people pouring out of restaurants, bars, doing what I was doing - simply taking their time to walk Midnight in Paris. A dream!
The weekend continued when I met up with Jesse for breakfast the next day at Gramme – this very precious café in Le Marais. We tried several things on the menu (I learned here that Jesse gets order-FOMO so he orders many plates even if just for a taste… my kind of dining companion!). Everything was yummy here and vibrant in color! Our day continued in Square George park, near Musée Carnavalet. Turns out it was a dog park. Made me miss my Goldie Hawn. (Who, if anyone is wondering, is living her absolute best life. She’s lounging on my mother’s beach house porch by day, dipping in the Atlantic by midmorning to cool off, coming back for a quick nap on one of the umpteen couches she chooses from, licking (I’m quite sure under their watch) WAY too many peanut butter jars, learning to respond to baby-talk (each video Harriette sends me of GH is narrated in octave… high-pitch), and finally, by night she is propped on the bow of the boat ears flapping in the wind as she co-pilots her favorite human – my beau-père (stepfather), Joe.)
Jesse and I talked for hours – his stories are incredible and beyond inspiring. To get a taste… click here and brace yourselves for some of the smartest conversations on his podcast. You’ll understand quickly why I always feel I’ve been upgraded after being with him. He’s an outside of the box kind thinker, like moi…( at least I like to think I am). We tease that we feel we’re talking to a mirror when we get into it. Next level. Heady. Love it.
The week continued, and I took my first motorbike ride all around Paris. Simon, who I met last week at Bar Du Moulin, has made plans with me every few days since we met. He jokes that he has replaced Marcel and has stepped in as mon professor. He says I inspire him to be a tourist in his own town and that he is considering doing as I am doing soon – picking up and vacating for a few months to shake up life. He’s got his eye on Italy!
For my first time on the back of a motor bike – my first thought was, of course… What do I wear?! I settled on 4 inch heels (fancy), denim (casual), black blazer (french), and a crossbody sack (necessary). When I showed up… I met him with “Je suis sur un nuage!” … “I’m on a cloud!” That’s the one phrase Marcel did teach me. I told him how often I say over the moon, so I needed the French equivalent.
I couldn’t STAND the excitement when my helmet snapped into place. Not only was I about to hold on for dear life as we dodged oncoming traffic and knocked helmets, it was the start of Menswear Fashion Week so the streets were buzzing with THE MOST attractive people droite et gauche – which was going to add an upgrade scenic view on my Parisian avenue of greenlights!
When we arrived at Restaurant Passerini – I ordered for us. And to use every second to practice I said every name on the dish. Not ordering the ravioli pasta. Instead, ordering the “Ravioli del Pastificio: poivrons, pomme de terre et herbes aromatiques au beurre de sauge et parmesan.” Simon was laughing so hard saying “the waitress gets it, she gets it, you don’t have to continue” but I did continue! This waitress was my audience and I was there to perform! (If you’re curious. I got a permagrin out of her – which I took as a standing ovation.)
After dinner he drove me the long way back to my apartment so we could pass Pont Neuf, where the lights were still beaming from the Louis Vuitton fashion show that had happened hours before. Jay Z preformed and gave my EN ROUTE, from a few weeks ago, a nod when he opened the show rapping “We in Paris gettin %$#@ed up too.” The Eiffel Tower was sparkling, the traffic was dense, and we be lookin mignon (cute) in our helmets speeding through Paris. I was holding on tight as he weaved around traffic by the Concorde and then arrived safely in my beloved quartier (neighborhood). J’adore! I felt high. Body electric. He wheeled onto the sidewalk to let me off to say bonne nuit before I bounced home. Such a Parisian night!
I’ve actually had a ton of those recently….
The following night was Fête de la Musique – where I met up with Jillian, who has made a cameo from a previous En Route. She is one of my Charlottes in my Parisian Web as she introduced me to ALL of her incredible friends and let me attempt French. We had a BALL and danced in the streets (with the rest of Paris) until the wee hours of the morning. On Thursday, my friend Caroline (another repeat EN ROUTE cast member) came to stay with me to work Fashion Week. She, Miranda, bébé Margaux, and I went to dinner at Café Central. Afterwards, she and I walked home so we could snap pics like tourists do and discover a … skateboard park as our backdrop!!!!!?? WHA????!! Yep! Fashion Week in Paris yields no budget. It was an actual skate park on the Seine with a DJ and tons of shredding-Tony-Hawk-lookalikes attempting one kick-flip to the next!
Friday night was what I have titled my twenty year old night. Starting it as an adult at a piano concert in Saint-Chapelle with Simon. (Brace yourselves for the site of a lifetime in this magical place when you visit. And do yourself a favor… bring kleenex for tears. The stained glass walls are subject to ignite waterworks immediately upon entry. It’s magic in there!), dinner at Gallopin (which felt like a night a Bagatell in NYC). At 10pm they crank up the tunes and the party was underway. Dinner was served at 11pm and after, instead of retiring for the night, we hailed a cab (as 20 year olds would… oop, I mean, any respectable adult who is not pretending to be a good 15 ish years younger would), and booked it to Castel. A members only speakeasy type of underground dance party in Saint Germain. This club has embroidered penises woven into the carpets and each floor is adorned with different looks so you feel you’re in a completely different bar with each stair you climb. It’s a wonderland of music, drinks, and fête!
Don’t be surprised when you see a petit fils avec il grand-père (grandson with his grandfather) in tandem on the dancefloor. No joke! We saw ALL ages! The ultimate Parisian experience. If you want to feel young again.. Go!... and make your way all the way down to the basement where you’ll discover a smoke box. Oops, I mean a piano bar. Only requirement – that you sing along, bang on the piano, scream requests at the pianist in all languages, and have a cigarette burning in your fingers the WHOLE TIME. I felt like I was in a movie. Our cabbie dropped me off before taking him home when the trash trucks were starting their rounds. LATE YOUNG 20YR OLD NIGHT. Incroyable!
The very next day I had to recover quickly. I had the Saudi 100 fashion show at Place du Trocadéro to attend! Miranda and I were Caroline’s guests to the catwalk that was held at Cité de l'architecture et du Patrimoine. She was lead producer and ummmm NAILED the event! Models were queuing up and looking chic as hell as Potel et Chabot caterers passed tray upon tray of exotic dishes. Sidebar. Miranda and I were using this as our “date night” so after the show ended, and lights came on, we had dinner… excuse me… I mean we obliged and tasted (all) the passed plates and sipped fresh cucumber and mint juices (no alcohol was served).
And finally – to round out my très eventful weeks. I just completed the best 48 hours. Morning yoga class with Miranda, followed by lunch at Monsieur Bleu with my tutor, Simon, dinner and all-night-gabs with Caroline, THE most incredible lunch with Jordan – who I met at Fête de la Musique at Doppio (After, he encouraged me to take a stroll on the canal and fall back in love with the 10th Arrondissement, where he lives. I’m so happy he did! I have changed my tone. And forgiven the gross apartment experience from my first week here. The 10th is BLISS!! Jordan confirmed that the place you stay does indeed have the capability to change your view of Paris. So I rested in knowing that I wasn’t wrong in hating it at the beginning — but love it now), dinner with Lori, my wonderful friend who’s in town for Fashion Week from NYC at Le Bon Georges (this place is EVERYTHING! We got the only cancellation of the night… you know what’s coming… GREENLIGHT!!), and now, just returning from seeing Jillian for lunch and wandering her gorgeous neighborhood.
I said farewell to Caroline this morning over a quiet coffee (don’t have text space or the time.. I’m about to run off to dinner.. to get into it on this EN ROUTE – but I had a very kind, yet pleading, early morning talk with my upstairs neighbor, Monica, yesterday at ummmmm 6am. I ask that she pretty please WALK LIGHTER.. and assured her she won… so there’s NO NEED for her to practice jumping jacks at day break! Sheesh! I mean take home the trophy already and STOP making that much noise!). She spoke my need-rest language thank god! And just like that — we were only woken up this am at 7:40! Progress.
Life is full! Completely full!
THINGS I DID … DIDN’T MENTION … BUT YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT
JARDIN DES PLANTES // solo day
BAR DE MARCHÉ // another lunch with Jesse
COULÉE VERTE RENÉ-DUMONT // solo stroll. Paris equivalent of NYC’s High-line
FERONA // solo dinner
RODIN MUSEUM // solo visit
This week, I will welcome Vivian – NYC friend who’s EN ROUTE over to spend a long weekend with moi. She arrives on Thursday. I can hardly wait!
Xx
Love love this! Goldie Hawn is definitely living her best life, but so are Joe and Harriette!