WELCOME TO FRANCE!
FOUR DAYS WITH MY MAMA
So, about that sly little “Welcome to France” comment back in my last En Route… I’m sorry. It’s a phrase I’ve come to think of as something that captures the Parisian vibe (thanks to a dear Frenchman who once taught it to me). And, well, as someone who aspires to be part of this world, I kinda took it as my unofficial right to say it out loud. Eeek. Non merci. I didn’t love how I felt after that. Because the truth is, France has Welcomed me! They’re letting me live here (whether they know it or not – ha, still illegal), they're letting me indulge in all the butter and bread I could ever want, and they’re giving me the chance to admire (and try to copy) the effortlessly chic women strutting around every corner. Heck, that’s just the beginning of the list of amazing things this country has offered me! So, no, “Welcome to France” was definitely not a nice way to vent about the escargot-paced bureaucracy here. It was 100% sarcastic, and was 100% meant to be a little harsh. I’m sorry. But, funny enough, it’s actually one of my regular go-to phrases in its truest form. Like when I greeted MY MAMA this past week. The very first thing I said to her was, “Welcome to France!”
My mama arrived at CDG at 8:06 a.m. – I arrived at 8:46 a.m. – thinking that I would add about an hour buffer time for her to deboard, make it through security, walk her way over to baggage claim, grab her one packed-to-the-brim bag (that was full of smuggled goodies for moi) and then into my open and EXCITED arms. But Welcome to … (ooops!!! I said I wouldn’t do that again!) I could have added two hours of buffer time it took so long, as that glam shot from my enthusiastic mama above was snapped at 9:54 a.m. when she was coming out of the exit doors from the arrival gate. Mais, we don’t care!... “Welcome to France!!!!” (in the good way)
I scooped her up and immediately took her bags. She’s here! I wanted someone to pinch me! I love love love that she popped over with ease and feel so proud of her for coming as often as she does. My mother, up until I made the move over last October, hadn’t been to Europe. And now, this will mark her third trip over. She’s hooked! As I knew she would be. As I was from my very first trip crossing the Atlantic. Ocean and 14 hours of travel be damned! She’s doing it for her bébé! (And the food. Who am I kidding?) This time she took the direct flight from Raleigh NC – I know! How do they have one and Charlotte doesn’t? [sidebar. When Simon and my mama saw one another he shared that he knew exactly where Raleigh was. I was even shocked! How?! Evidently Simon used to have an airplane simulator at the ripe old age of 4 ½ and when he chose where he’d “fly over,” he chose North Carolina in the US of A. Can you handle it? So he said he too has flown into Raleigh Durham many times.]
We started it by doing what else? Vintage shopping! Where we obviously had luck! We went to Porte de Vanves, where I hadn’t had any luck the weekend before, but this time – even though it is listed everywhere that they are open until 2:30 p.m., were shutting down at 1:30 p.m. Welcome to…. Eeek NO I’m NOT going to say it!
We hurried through and as we did, I managed to buy an Elemer Vagh Weinmann painting. The vendor asked for 100€, I offered 50€. She then started to rave about how famous the artist was. (Which we googled after and ummmm she wasn’t wrong! This painting I bought could be worth upwards of 900€.) But as I kept saying “I don’t know him – so thank you for this information, but that isn’t the selling point for me. I like it a lot, and just want to pay $50” she thought it was “sympa” that I was only communicating in my very broken French with her that she accepted my offer. I LOVE a good negotiation – only when I am successful. Which I was. It came home with me.
Next, the pink lamp. My mama and I both walked past it and then both looked at one another as we, in tandem, did an about-face to go inspect. As we did, the vendor of the next to perfect lamp and shade, came over. He was packing up so I knew this was my chance to get it for a steal. (If I know anything, I know the vendors never want to take home more than they have to on a market day. Best time to shop is at the end when they are in the mindset of “sell, baby sell.” In my case, “give away, baby give away.” Because) one crips 20€ bill later I not only had BOTH the lamp and the shade in my possession, but the vendor was finding me a bag to tote it in. He smiled when I walked away and said “you’re my future client” – he isn’t wrong! I’ll be back! But only at the final hour of the market.
Getting home we delivered the finds and then unpacked all the goodies from her checked bag before we made a beeline to Patrick and Fanny’s bar for wine and the yummiest bites before our concert at Sainte Chapelle. As I unzipped her bag, the sound of It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas rang in my ears. It was like unwrapping a present that wouldn’t stop giving! My great grandmama’s mini rug that has always been in my home was pulled out, the bird paintings that have been in my family forever were removed from the copious bubble wrap, the crochet bird pieces that were hand stitched by my mama and her mama (mamee) were being untucked from the pockets of my beaucoup summer blazers that she had packed for me, a set of four Parisian watercolor scenes that used to hand in my great aunt Carol’s house and have hung in mine for years — before I ever had Paris on my radar… or maybe before I realized Paris had a radar on ME, — a video Aura frame that my mother insisted I would be ummmm completely obsessed with, and AM! I can’t stop, won't stop, uploading pics – then staring to see them appear on the screen. And finally a few tastes from home. Her homemade granola in my old Bib.On (RIP) branded packaging, a pound of my favorite honey curried cashews from The Fresh Market, two boxes of girl scout cookies (that I immediately tucked in the freezer for safekeeping and yet somehow am only down to one sleeve of Thin Mints! What? You try to have them in your small, need the space, studio apartment and then tell me if you can resist?)
After a good walk down memory lane, we changed and sped walked to La Bonbonnette Bar à Vin, where mama and Fanny got to really meet this time. They did years ago at Chez Nous (only the best restaurant in all of Charleston, and owned by Fanny and Patrick) but this time it felt all the more special. My leading lady in Paris, Fanny, is with my leading lady in Life, my mama, Harriette – at one table, together. BLISS! After ordering practically one of everything on the menu including their newest yummiest butteriest creamiest cheese – can’t remember the name. But go with me next time or when you go ask for the cheese AC got last time and they’ll know it. Because that’s how I ordered the other things we got. Literally. All I said was “What was it that I got last time that I loved?” and Stephen and Sammie KNEW. They’re the best!
We soaked in every minute there with them and therefore then had to speed walk again to our final stop of the day: Sainte Chapelle for a gorgeous string quartet concert. This marked my third time for a concert there and I’m here to say Welcome to France! The French know how to set the scene and make a place sing with romance! GO!
We had a complete ball the entire trip and didn’t stop gabbing, eating, drinking, hunting for the perfect vintage goodies and rearranging my apartment to attempt to make it HOME… Spoiler! We succeeded… the entire time. Throughout our four days together…
WE FEASTED
Fresh chausson aux pommes at Le Boulanger de la Tour. 6 escargots, a full plate of foie gras, niçois salade, a whopping bowl of soupe l'oignon at Café Hugo (for the best view in all the city en mon avis because it’s) at Place des Vosges. Couscous, duck, chicken liver pâté (mom’s favorite), and pumpkin beet au gratin at Bonne Aventure with Simon. Chèvre Salad and foie gras (yes, this was the second in only two days) at Le Saint-Regis. (I don’t think it’s a proper trip to Paris for my mother withOUT going to this restaurant. She and Joe went every day when they were here. Yes, you read that correctly. Every single day! She defended it by saying “well, we wanted eggs sometimes, we wanted a beer other times, and every now and then a dessert, or foie gras or... Ha! It became their regular spot. I loved knowing that!). ALL the butter from La Grande Epicerie au Bon Marché (that is now safely, and hopefully still in solid form, back in South Carolina). The yummiest eclair on the planet from La Maison du Chocolat. Cassoulet (the best one I’ve eaten yet) and boeuf bourguignon with a side chèvre chaud salade at Aux Anysetiers du Roy. And MORE…
WE SHOPPED
She bought me Annie Hall’s … I mean, Diane Keaton's Fashion First book – my number one muse! We scored not only at the vintage markets earlier – did I even mention my mirror!? It is gorgeous. From the 1800s and came home with me after a subtle negotiation. Welcome to France! They were all so quick to say yes to any price I offered! J'adore ça! We also really scored at Zara Home. That’s right. I live all the way over here in beautiful France and I found the exact right thing at a mass store mais, c'est la vie! We got a couch cover, two Japanese linen woven pillow covers (that we promptly stuffed two bed pillows in EACH of them. They look so regal and exactly right on my couch), every golden sconce with a glass globe that IKEA would sell me (when I asked to buy the floor model. I got a laughing “non!” with a side-eye look of “are you crazy?”) and any tool, nail, velcro wall hanging contraption, or plate holder you could think of at BHV.
WE PLAYED
After all the shopping and feasting, we went home each day and PLAYED in my precious treehouse apartment that within four days turned it into a HOME. We hung paintings, we rearranged the furniture (just to put it back exactly how it was when we started), we almost got electrocuted as we removed one of the sconces thinking we could do the project, we hung the curtains that my mama custom made to fit my windows exactly, moved the chair that used to call my bedroom (mezzanine) ‘home’ down the twisty windy stairs and into main floor to create a salon like feeling around the fireplace, we collapsed the large (originally an) outside table that I bought several months ago with Vivian and tucked it under the stairs (PSA, if anyone is looking for the best table on the planet for their yard or balcony here à Paris text me. She’s already sanded, already so cute, and is hoping for a new place to call home), rebuilt the tiny table that was already here when I took over the apartment 7 months ago (and that was seconds away from being put on the street in the hopes that someone would pick it up as they did the other four bags of nonsense I left out last week), we dressed the couch with her new couch-cover and pillows (that was too on her way OUT before my mom convinced me that we may not be able to make her scream comfort, but we can certainly make her scream chic. Which we did!) we arranged flowers, we fixed the kitchen chandelier so that it wouldn’t get WHACKED anytime someone opened the pantry, we caulked the sink, we taped the tv wires and tidied the upstairs with a newly placed rug, and finally, we hung my naked ladies that have been with me since my days in Montauk on my bedroom wall.
At 8pm each night I would sound the alarms and either we’d go out for more foie gras – or two of the four nights we stayed in and ate cheese, prosciutto, figs, crackers, olives, and the remnants of our Carette palmier so to bask in our work of art – turning my apartment into HOME.
WE ALSO WALKED!
Each night before we would fall HARD asleep we would look at our steps. 9 miles on her first day, 4.5 miles (which we both believe was NOT a fact – it was more like 1,000 miles that day), 6 miles on her third, and finally, 9.5 on her final full day with me. Even by the time I took her to the airport at 10am on wednesday morning I had already cleared 3!
We roamed through the Notre Dame, where my sweet mama was “overwhelmed with its beauty,” over to Saint Germain des Prés, kicked dust on the Jardin des Tuileries path, gasped at the grandness of La Madeleine, beat the pavement on Rue de Rivoli and Le Marais, and of course our nightly walk was around “my island” as we called Île Saint Louis the duration of her trip – and what I will forever call it moving forward! And the day we were marked as walking the least but are both convinced that we walked the MOST – was at Saint Ouen… where we not only walked but we sat on lounges, des chaises and banc des lits! I wanted them ALL.
On our final night, before we had our picnic inside my beautiful HOME, we took ourselves over to Les Nautes on the Seine, where we ordered two demi pints of IPA and a bag of crisps (that we finished!). Sat on the quai to see the sunset and enjoyed our final lengthy conversations.
On Wednesday morning I almost purposely overslept (I was the one responsible for setting the alarm on her flight day) so that she didn’t go back. But the sun had us up at 7a.m. which was a wonderful treat! We woke up, had a long coffee with one another, walked over the bridge back to the boulangerie where we got another and final chausson aux pommes, and then reversed the full first day journey. We walked over to the RER B, arrived at the airport with time to spare, checked her in, and then hugged goodbye – an action that causes instant waterworks (for HOURS after) each time we do this. I waved until I couldn’t see her anymore and then walked back to the RER B wiping my tears all the livelong stroll, sat solo on the train until a handsy (I think they were newly weds) sat beside me and pleasantly distracted me from my mama blues with all their oooy gooy LOVE, went by the organic market on my Island to get fresh lettuce and radishes (body was craving veg and a detox from the decadent foie gras meals that I was MORE than happy to help my mama indulge in) and back to my HOME to put my head down in work and planning.
COMING AND GOING
I had two friends arrive the very day my mama was leaving. What a blessing! It’s always good to have another plan in place when you are ending something special. I learned that many moons ago when the waterworks would kick into high gear after my family would leave me from a joyful trip in NYC together.
I made a plan to see Les, one of my dearest friends from the RRL crew back in the day, and his precious wife Rachel and baby – turned teenager overnight (or because I haven’t seen them since she was a boodle), Roma. They were in town for Roma’s (6th grader) and Les’s (professor at Harvard) Spring Breaks. And I was the lucky one who got to have them all to myself for an hour!!
We met the following morning for coffee at Ten Belles 6 where I got an UPGRADE with all the laughter and joy they ooze. Then I sped off to meet Kris, my friend from LA (who I had talked about back when LA was experiencing so many fires. Her house was surrounded by the fire yet miraculously didn’t get burned.) We met at Rasa for our favorite teacher, Shane's, class. We got to gab for a bit before, but it wasn’t enough. So after class, we decided to go for the quickest of quickest coffees (I had a work call at 2pm to get back for and it was already 1:15pm). I knew just the spot!
We went around the corner to Chanceux Galande. And not two minutes after taking our first bite of the BEST pb&j (made with brioche and stuffed with roasted peanuts) we had ever had… Are you ready? In walked Les, Rachel, and Roma! No kidding!
Before they arrived in Paris, Les had asked me for restaurant recommendations. Instead of sending him ones that I thought he would like, I just sent him my entire google list named “PARIS RESTAURANTS.” He had told me over coffee earlier that they had been going to all of my places. So there you have it! Chanceux Galande was evidently on the “PARIS RESTAURANTS” list and they had just left Shakespeare & Company, which is basically across the street, so stopped by the café for lunch. Smallest of SMALL worlds! Made my heart sang with happiness. My two visiting friends were in the same place at the exact same time.
It has been the best week! And last night, after Simon stopped by to gush over the apartment (I knew he would! It’s truly such a different and magical place now!), I finally started to look at my emails and texts and things that I have completely ignored since I have only had eyes for my mother during her stay. When I did, I read one of my dear friend Jessica’s Semi Important Things substack (the friend who encouraged me to start En Route! She even made my logo for me at her kitchen table the night before I flew to Rome two years ago). She discussed the hard concept to swallow… that two things can be true at once. I too have had a hard time with that idea sometimes. Alas, since reading her email, I have seen proof of that concept everywhere! Even in Shane’s class today he said “make it straight and bent,” “keep it soft and strong,” “connection is in the balance of the opposite pulls.”
So to conclude, my two things that can be true at the same time is that I love my new HOME and I miss my mama and her HOME. I love my experiences here in my new city and miss the routine of my old city. And finally, I can Welcome (you) to France in the best way, while also thinking Welcome to France (with an eye roll) when things move slow – two different things can be true at the same time!
I’m off now to end my short detox (since my mama has left) and stuff myself again with an incredible French meal at Café des Ministeres. Where I will pull up a chair to a table of chic, sweet, gourmands – connoisseurs of the best food – Gabriel, Margot, Jean Luc, Roxanne, and Simon, and I will enjoy every bite of le vol au vent that my heart desires.
Until next week. Xxo ac
This one just makes me feel happy. Love your mama and your beautiful finds (steals!).
Welcome HOME, mama! xo
I need to see Paris again…