This morning all I wanted to do was bring my computer into bed with me and spend the morning working on the draft of my book. But my Le Petit Cler addiction is very serious and I cannot start my day in Paris without a café crème.
Had I been in Victoria, I would have rolled out of bed into my Lululemon's that live piled on the floor. Underwear optional. I would have found a hoody that I hadn't worn to the barn in the last few days - good luck! - and rammed my bed head under a pink ball cap. On my feet Uggs or flip-flops depending on the weather. And then I would have jumped into my car and driven the block and a half to my neighbourhood Starbucks.
But this is Paris!
An hour after I woke up dreaming of my café crème, I was finally ready to leave the apartment. Hair done, make-up applied, tasteful jewelry, uniform of skinny jeans, ballerinas and scarf all carefully put together to look like I hadn't bothered. Where do French women find the time? Anyone over the age of 25 needs more than fifteen minutes to look so effortlessly sexy and chic.
I went to the Chagall exhibit this afternoon. It was elbow-to-elbow and a reminder of why I don't enjoy museums but his paintings were beautiful and romantic. My favourite was Le Champ de Mars.
Tomorrow I am taking myself to the antique book market in the 15th.
It's Friday night and you have 15 euros...
Dinner at MG Maison de Gyros, 8 rue Xavier Privas. A "gyros deluxe" is 5 euros and once you have it in hand, it's short walk to Notre Dame to eat dinner overlooking one of the best views in Paris. Another 5 euros buys you an assortment of chocolates, caramels and a kouignette from the incomparable Maison Georges Larnicol. And finally a 5 euros verre du vin rose at one of the bustling brasseries on Boulevard St. Germain. What more do you need for a perfect Friday night in Paris?!
Ordering Coke Light with breakfast? I think it makes more sense to order a glass of wine or a beer.
Parisian dogs of the day...
Chihuahuas were on parade tonight in rue Cler. A man walked past carrying a Birkin with two panting blonde heads sticking out. Oh to be so wealthy that I could stick small, dribbling purebred dogs in a Birkin! Shortly after a woman walked past with a Chihuahua dressed in striped sailor suit. The dog was unhappy and wiggling frantically to remove his pantaloons.