VINTAGE FINDS
AND AMERICAN EFFICIENCIES WITH A SIDE ORDER OF RUIN!
I GOT IT BACK ALREADY
Messieurs-dames, ladies and gentleman, I am happy to report that I officially have my US Passport back in my two hands that bleed red, white and blue!
America. We’re nothing if not efficient! Something that was due to take six weeks, only took 12 working days in total. And on top of that, I was instructed to arrive at the Embassy to pick it up on Monday at 10:00 a.m. - so did - and by 10:06 a.m. (no exaggeration) it was in my possession. Ah! I do miss living in a country that is organized and timely. Have I mentioned? It’s going on SEVEN MONTHS since I submitted my application for my French Visa and still NO WORD?! Welcome to France!
And Welcome to America! That’s what I’ll be hearing sometime in my near future now that I have the capability to leave with my stamped book in hand.
TRÈS CONTENT
It’s 4:30 a.m. (or shall I say il est quatre heures et demi since I have been studying telling the time in French) on Wednesday morning and I am UP. I actually haven’t slept so I’ve decided to write. Too excited! Today I get to have coffee with Fanny and Justine at Unthaitled Café – where the pours are bountiful (oui, s’il vous plaît). They are two of my very favorite French American people to spend time with here à Paris and I nearly buzz each time I know I get to see one of them — so together? BLISS! I am notorious for putting a plan together way in advance and then the night before, if the plan requires meeting in the morning hours, I can’t sleep in anticipation. I inherited this excited feeling from my mama — who is ARRIVING IN T-MINUS one day! (And I just know I will be wide awake from now until the 20 ish hours later when I get my arms around her. Sleep.. shmeep. We don’t care! Bring on the excited feelings all the live long night if I must!!!)
Here, at our coffee date, we dissected every possible way Justine could style her new kitchen (spoiler alert, there may be a country home I will be visiting by this time next year. An offer has been made for a very special place to her!), and what furniture I should be buying to make my place feel like home, and all the photos Fanny showed us of her Parisian apartment and the instagram inspiration she studied before building out her perfect home in Charleston. With all the conversations around design, vintage scouring, and hunting for the perfect handy-man etc., Justine remembered that this tiny Island, just outside of Paris, has a vintage market twice a year. Her fingers went to google and then her gasp went volume 10! “You guys, it’s going on NOW. It ends on Sunday!” We three immediately went through our agendas mentally and vetoed anything of importance for Thursday. We were Foire de Chatou bound!
FLEA-TING KIND OF WEEK
Date and time set: Thursday, March 13th at 2:15 p.m. Appointment: Meet Fanny, Justine, and Sammie at Les Halles to catch the RER A. Load on to the double-decker train and take the 20ish minute ride out to Foire de Chatou, where we will promptly loose one another as we all wander through each vendor’s table and shop ‘til we drop!
This past weekend I had no luck at the Porte de Vanves flea. It was all beautiful, and there were two things that I definitely wanted, but the night before had me counting exactly zero sheep - must find a way to SLEEP over here - and therefore I wasn’t in a mental place for shopping. I was more in a place of getting yelled at and feeling defeated every time I spoke French when I, yes, tried to negotiate. And no, did not succeed!
So, determined to find at least one new piece to add to my budding collection over here before my mama arrived, I took another stab at it with Fanny, Sammie, and Justine. Jackpot! At least for my eyes. I only walked away with one painting – but the inspiration wouldn’t quit. I thought of everything in this wanderland of old pre-loved gems. Brass newspaper wrack, I need. Old candelabras that have been crafted into sconces, Justine needs. Beautiful linen dressing gowns and bedding, Fanny needs. We all walked away with something. Even sweet Sammie found some of the yummiest roasted hazelnuts that satiated our need-a-snack-during-all-this-shopping hunger.
It doesn’t stop there. This weekend I have decided to take my mother to the mecca: Saint-Ouen. Stay tuned.
“AMERICANS RUIN A LOT OF MY FAVORITE PLACES”
That was the hilarious text I received from a dear friend of mine this week, who too lives here à Paris, and ummm wait for it… is also American. It was in response to me sharing with her, in very limited and vague details (I’ve given up complaining for Lent, thank you very much) about a lunch that I had just had with one of my dear friends, at one of my favorite restaurants, and the fellow American who sat close to us making me feel flushed with embarrassment that I was getting pegged as “one of them.”
Don’t get me wrong, I am PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN, but… I do have etiquette. I know when it’s time to crank down the volume of my voice, attempt to speak in the language of the country I’m visiting, not send food back, take my sunglasses off (especially (and obviously) when inside!!) so to make eye contact with the waiter who is already thinking ‘this American is so entitled,’ and I definitely know when it’s time to say THANK YOU. They, did not.
I wanted to crawl under the table too many times to count. Textbook behavior of why we Americans get a bad, pas-chic, wrap here in this city. And why it will be a very very long time before I darken the doors of Café Charlot again — one of my favorites.
Alas, forget that, I loved loved loved getting time with my Heidi! We connected instantly when I met her through another of my best friends, Erika, and have continued to stay in touch since. Only the English Channel separates us. She too is an expat of 6 ish years in London — so get’s what it’s like to be a fish out of water at times and needing to make up for those who are only stopping through our new foreign towns and haven’t fully grasped that their behavior is ruining it for the rest of our reputations here. Heart was FULL to have had this moment side by side with her – regardless if the other Americans in the join were ruining this place for me or not.
After shopping around with her and her friend, owner of Night Cap, a clothing company that brought them here for Fashion Week, I took off on my bike for a long joy ride (my old bike’s name in Charleston actually - She answered to “Joy” for short). I wanted to soak up the BEAUTIFUL day on James Chocolatine. As I was en route to the Champs Élysées I took a side street and got a whistle and a wave! Ah!!! My sweet Heidi, standing on the sidewalk, phone to ear, sending me air kisses as I pedaled past the shop she and her friend had wandered into.
I miss her already!
IT HAPPENED AGAIN
This week I had to do it again. Ok, maybe not HAD to. But I did!
I rearranged the apartment, CLEANED out every nook and cranny (this includes standing on a step ladder to scrub the pantry, wearing wellies in my shower while on my hands and knees to scrub the bathroom, stripping this gross tape paper thing off of all the kitchen shelves, and gloves up to my elbows with mask in place to scrub the cabinets under the sink) to prepared for my mama’s stay. I can hardly stand it. I'm so excited this time. I am every time! But this time feels like it’s just for us. There are no sites she truly wants to see – except her three requests: “Notre Dame, Fanny and Patrick’s new bar, and Saint Michelle.” There are no restaurants she is dying to go to – only dishes she is absolutely determined to eat in no particular order: bœuf bourguignon, Berthillon glace, copious amounts of foie gras, escargot, and a croque monsieur. So this trip is just for fun! For gabbing, for hugging, for rearranging the apartment, for hanging pictures, for buying clothes and vintage anything we want, and for walking the city hand in hand. I am so excited to have her here!!!
So, in preparation. I did it again. This time though, I cleared out this apartment of anything that was left behind from the previous renters that I didn’t want.
I attempted to log a “pick up time” on the city’s website for me to be able to take those things outside without guilt. Mais, non. To no avail. On repeat the site just said “Error” each time I got to the second stage of the application. Welcome to France! I decided to just put it on the street (in the night of course. I didn’t want to get caught or yelled at). Before I did, I texted my fellow islander, Justine, for her approval. She told me to go for it and gave me confirmation that people will ‘take things before I have time to go back inside.’ She was right! I took four big bags of random plate sets, an old dish-drying rack, strange pink sea salt lamps, an array of silverware, and about five teflon pans that I just can not bring myself to cook on. (Haven’t these been proven umpteen times that they cause cancer?!! How on earth are people still using them?!!). And by the time I returned from running upstairs for my coat, they were GONE!
Gave me the extra pep in my step as I walked the full hour crossing Paris to meet Lori at Bambini Paris beside Palais de Tokyo. It was a GORGEOUS night that was the perfect reminder of why I have chosen to live here à Paris!
Lori is here for the buying portion of Fashion Week and I live for our dinners when she’s in town. She is one of my most funny (super DRY humor), beautiful, give it to me straight, no mess, dear friends who is practically married to Luis, one of my all time favorite human beings! We met in the same neighborhood as her hotel – and in fact, the same hotel that Marissa, my other fashion friend (who was featured in last En Route), stayed in last week! How wild is that?
Dinner was great. Lots of deep talks, laughter, food (I ate the green bean salad and couldn’t recommend it more! DELISH), and mice watching. Hmmm you read that correctly! Even the mice know it’s a bon restaurant. They scurried past the kitchen entryway and Lori and I could hardly relax our legs after we caught it (fortunately after we had already paid our bill and were leaving). Alas, as terrible as that is… it’s actually not that uncommon here à Paris. Heck! They even made a movie about how much the mice love Parisian food – Ratatouille.
I’ve had the best week. And can’t wait for the next four days avec ma maman!!!
Now, off to finish work for Indagare, dry out all of my sheets for this weekend, run to the supermarché to ensure that my mama has a cold coca-cola in the fridge for her arrival and a few other treats that will make her feel like home.
Until next week… Je suis très content!
xxo ac
