The PARIS Posting

[Arc de Triomphe]

Paris is a magnificent city.  I never knew that it was my Mom's favorite city until a few years ago when she remarked, "Paris is what every city hopes to be."  She is absolutely right.  

[Saint Germain]

Paris is always Paris, which is to say that it is lovely and infuriating and all together delightful.  I have now been three times and each time is strange and beautiful, foreign and yet, I am completely at home.  There is so much to the history of Paris, the Haussmann Boulevards, and meandering streets of the Latin Quarter, the French philosophy in regards to its own architecture and monuments, plus, of course, the food.  I recently came across this 'stunning' visual and thought that it is a rather good introductory tour of Paris.  

I was fortunate enough to be invited to Paris on a 'work' trip.  Shelley, who plays the Laurel & Hardy game with me, and I tripped off to Maison & Objet (the international Paris Gift Show) to order some lines for the store, the Marais for some steak frites, and to Bon Marché to remember what a REAL department store is like.  

[Hotel Saint Thomas in Saint Germain]

I have previously recounted my travel from Rome to Paris.  Once I had arrived at our sweet hotel in Saint Germain and had thé with Shelley, I was sufficiently revived and excited to run about the town. 

[via The Sartorialist]

Yes, women in Paris do look like this.  I don't believe in taking people's photos and posting them online without their consent so this photo is just a link to The Sartorialist.  However, I do have a few very specific things to say about Paris and fashion just briefly.  There is NOTHING like Paris for fashion.  At least, I've never seen anything like it.  Not even in Rome.  The little children here are dressed to perfection and they wear it as though they came up with the outfits themselves.  The men are impossibly handsome and well-tailored.  I, who do not like to show emotions in public, have stood pigeon-toed with my jaw slack and openly stared at the most gorgeous men I've ever seen.  Granted, it was men's fashion week and there were models aplenty.  But in all seriousness, there are reasons why Paris is 'that way' about fashion.  As Whit has often noted, Carine Roitfeld, editor of French Vogue, once said (in her French accent), '(H)Ugg boots are (h)ugly' and I think that sums up the Parisian philosophy.  Stepping out of my taxi, I saw a tall young woman with pale blond hair, dressed to the nines in black and wearing not a brush of make-up except for two dashes of red lipstick.  Ah yes, I'm in Paris...

[Quintessential Paris]

We tromped down to the Bon Marché and around the area, popping in and out of small shops, looking for inspiration and gathering a sense for the store and what we might be looking for at the Maison gift show.  Le Bon Marché is commonly known as the first department store.  It is first in my estimation of what a department store should be.  I know that everyone loves Galeries Lafayette or Printemps but my money is on Le Bon Marché.  Partly because it is on the Left Bank and partly because you can buy millinery supplies on the sixth floor...I do really love hats.

['Guilty Brotherhood' Billboard]

We dined at Relais de l'Entrecote on rue Saint-Benoît which only serves one meal: steak frites.  I’m sure you already guessed that.  First there is pan rustique and a little salad.  Then out come tender sirloin steaks, dripping with a green ‘secret’ sauce and a side of ‘French’ fries.   The curious green of the sauce really had me guessing.  I would have said that it was olive oil, whipped and thickened with white wine vinegar, minced thyme (not tarragon even though I'm sure you are thinking Béarnaise), green peppercorn and something else which I just couldn’t quite identify.  Le Monde, the main newspaper in Paris, reports that it is a butter sauce with white dijon, pressed chicken livers, and both fresh thyme and thyme flowers.  

"Ses ingrédients sont le foie de volaille, le thym frais et la fleur de thym, 

la crème fleurette, la moutarde blanche, le beurre et l'eau, le sel, le poivre."

Since the owners of the restaurant have dismissed the report as false, it simply must be true.  Then just as I had finished, out came second helpings.  I am a good sport so I worked through it.  Despite only featuring one dinner, they had a dessert menu of at least ten.  I chose chocolate profiteroles and a peaches with vanilla ice cream something or other that blew my mind. We had been seated immediately since Shelley and I dine early.  By the time we were finishing our second steaks, the line to the door had snaked down the street.  That's the thing about dining in Paris.  Many places don't take reservations and since no patron is ever so rudely abrupted as to be presented with l'addition, it is nearly impossble for a restaurant to calculate turnover.  So places that take reservations will almost never assume that they can have more than one seating per evening.  As we watched the line grow from twenty minutes to forty, Shelley and I talked more leisurely, knowing that tomorrow, chances were that we would be the ones waiting in line.

The following day we scuttled out to Maison.  What a change from LA and NY.  Elaborate dream-like houses, small gardens, mod set-ups, every type of structure that could somehow display product had been implemented.  Photography was prohibited so there are no visuals but just follow along: the Tadé booth had a bathtub/fountain with running water and dry ice…and that booth was hardly worth mentioning. 

Unfortunately, the euro against the dollar doesn’t leave much available for us to actually order.  Even with Greece, Portugal, and Spain pulling down the value of the euro, those 'laggard periphery', as reported in last week's NY Times.  We ordered a few of our standard lines, (Lisa Corti) perused some that Shelley would be ordering in NY (Society), revisited some that we have previously carried (Oyuna), and picked up a few new and fun things.  But you’ll have to come into the store to find out what we got!  We stopped into say hello to John Derian but didn't order since it is more fun to order from his shop in NY.  Shelley and he are great friends so she was going the next week.

Saturday was my birthday.  Since the onset of adulthood, I have now spent more consecutive birthdays with Shelley as I have with any other person.  She, as always, ensures that I have a marvelous day.  As a gift, she took me to one of the oldest umbrella shops in Paris and I had the choice of any in the store or any that I could imagine, as they do custom work.  Out came the champagne and the Chocolate Lab to keep me company and help me decide….his name was Chocolat.  The store, Alexandra Sojfer, has been in business since 1834 and its venerable name and provenance was only confirmed by the fact that Suzy Menkes walked in while I was there.  She is one of THE most influential people in fashion today.  Though she maintains a somewhat low profile, she is easily recognizable by what can only be described as 'the bangs from ‘There’s Something About Mary.’'  Since she is the fashion editor for the International Herald Tribune, I though she was in Paris to cover Men’s Fashion Week.  I was surprised that her French was so flawless but now I know that she actually lives in Paris.  She did, however, write up Men's week and her report (glowing of Lavin) can be read here.  

 

[The Shop]

  

[Chocolat]

 

[Shell and Em]

Though I was instinctively drawn to a classic black and grey model with a silver handle, I decided on something slightly more interesting and a tiny bit quirky.  It really is my philosophy that classic is pleasing to the eye but I enjoy a dash of ingenuity to keep things from being too staid.  I chose a French blue, lined with chocolate brown (inspired by Chocolat, of course) with a uniquely curled bamboo handle.  It is absolutely divine.  

[Park in the Marais]

We hit up the usual targets like Galeries Lafayette, where I found a fun flannel smock/shirt for Whit.  After going to Le Bon Marché and Lafayette, I have to say that the most impressive things were really coming from Valentino.  Since he is headquartered in Rome (and I know exactly where) I decided not to even worry about looking at the divine skirts and the sweet tees that he was using in the RED Valentino collection.  Maison Martin Margiela does some really interesting things (I coveted a large white handbag) and Alaia's silhouette would REALLY suit my frame...sadly, I do not have $1500 for a day dress.  Or for anything, really.  Shelley and I discovered a new cashmere line that is not yet in the States (such a satisfying feeling).  We both made purchases and then jumped down to the Marais where we found more of the same line and both made additional purchases and had tea at Mariage Fréres.  Most people know and love Mariage Fréres' Marco Polo tea.  I admit that I bought some during my first trip to Paris and carried it on the plane with me.  I am slightly obsessed with the black tin canisters and I loved having them pop against the turquoise tile that lined my kitchen counter.  While Casablanca is typically my favorite 'ambiance' of tea, whilst in the tea room, I tried Marco Polo Rougé just to be fancy.  Lordy, but did I feel fancy.  We capped off the evening with savory crepes for dinner and then street crepes with Nutella for dessert.  You simply cannot go to Paris without walking along the Seine (a la 'An American in Paris') or having a crepe from a street vendor.  I recommend either citron avec sucre or Nutella.  I had never spent any time in Le Marais (sort of the 3rd and 4th arrondissements) but it is known for its quirky shops and vibrant nightlife.  What a delight...that's all I really have to say.

[THE macarons]

As I was leaving on Sunday, we just had a leisurely stroll into the original Ladurée on Rue Royale and since that’s all we had planned for the day, we decided to stay for tea.  I never have enough time in Paris to buy anything other than macarons.  So many other beautifully tempting delicacies line the old glass cases, but I know that the gorgeous colors of the mini macarons (they are really a macaron sandwich with ganaché in between) will last long enough to be sent back home to friends and family and the particular shade of celedon green of the Ladurée boxes elicit a certain squeal of delight in recognition.  In fact, the founders of Anthropolgie had their kitchen cabinetry painted to match a Ladurée box.  I've heard that 15,000 Ladurée macarons are sold every day.  Judging by the line (in the afternoon it is literally intolerable), I would not disagree.  Someday I’ll stay in Paris long enough for a little party in my apartment and buy a whole slew of cakes, teas, and small divinities.

[Whit and Em eating every available flavor of macarons, Paris 2007]

While tea at Mariage Fréres is more of a tea experience, tea at Ladurée is more of an experience.  It reminded me of having tea at The Plaza when I was 13.  I had realized that the grand piano was unlocked and decided to play Chopin in the Palm Court.  Okay, so I didn’t play the piano at Ladurée, but I did stop in at Shakespeare & Co. and play Chopin in the reading room upstairs.  

  [The Piano]

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." -E. Hemingway

[The Reading Room]

Shakespeare & Co. is my absolute favorite bookstore anywhere ever.  It was once the Shakespeare & Co. of Sylvia Beech, who would loan Ernest Hemingway the rarely available English language books that he could not afford to buy in his twenties.  Thinking about this, I picked up a copy of A Moveable Feast, which is my favorite of his work.  Anaîs Nin also mentions Shakespeare & Co. but I bought her the last time I was in Paris.  As is my custom, I picked up a book for a friend as well.  Andrew mentioned that he wanted to re-read some Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (as a defiantly principled gesture towards Hollywood) so I sent him a copy of a compilation of short stories and novels called The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.  

[Rue de Faubourg]

Goyard was, thankfully, closed on Sunday but I hope that 'next time I'm in Paris' will be the time that I spring for the handbag of my dreams.   Goyard is one of the three oldest malletiers in Paris (among Le Malle Bernard and Louis Vuitton) and my particular favorite.  A white Goyard tote is one of the few 'luxury' items, and one of the few 'status' items, I've even been interested in owning.  Coincidentally, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had a custom Goyard trunk with a desk and space for a typewriter.

 [Shop window in Saint Germain]

Inspiration is typically hard to come by in window shops in the States.  When I think of amazing windows, I think of Simon Doonan or displays of grand scale, walloping budgets, and excess.  I enjoy all of those things, especially Simon Doonan.  One thing that Shelley and I were looking for in Paris was small-scale inspiration; one simple and extraordinary thing.  There are many charming shop windows.  There are the windows that display charming things and are thus made charming themselves.  Think cashmere baby lines and stuffed toy polar bears.  There are the windows that are incredible in their quirkiness; the shop that sells stuffed real polar bears (also crocodiles, rats, butterflies, and a sweet little fox).  But I like things that are really inventive.  So I loved this Bertoia chair, woven with men's silk neckties.  It was both charming and inventive.  Below, is the window that for me, 'made' the trip.  The premise is simple enough; two chairs with bits of them whittled down into only skeletal remains.  It was really quite extraordinary to see.  The joints were fully exposed.  The caning pulled away leaving only a faintly striped reminder on the wood of the seat.  The knots in the wood were shown as knobbly little knees, treated with care.  Between the two chairs lay the splinters and dust of what had once made them useful.

 [Gallery window in the Latin Quarter]

I'm not sure if the full force of the display will come across a photo.  In fact, I'm sure that it won't.  But one thing I really believe, is that merely looking at photos will not take the place of seeing things with your own eyes, discovering for yourself rather than looking threw the view that someone has framed for you.  It is one of the reasons that I do not like to take photos during momentous occasions.  I do not want to see life through a viewfinder.  I want to use my peripheral vision to pull in everything in the moment.  Sometimes I think that the only reason I take photos is to convince other people that by not traveling, they are missing something truly amazing.

[ via Wikipedia]

It was really another whirlwind weekend in Paris.  On my way back to Rome, I thought about how I never plan on going to Paris, but I always end up in Paris and it is never time enough.  I still have never been to the Rodin Museum.  I have never been in the catacombs of Paris, about which I know so much.  I have never been to the French Pantheon, which has always been on my list as I’m sure you’ve guessed.  And though walking across the Ile de la Cité and seeing Notre Dame de Paris is a sort of touchstone of being in Paris, I have never actually been inside.  But the thing about Paris is that no matter how many times you’ve been there, you’ll always want to go back.  There will never be enough visits.  Paris is always Paris.