I’m finally getting to our last day in Paris. What felt like ages ago. Just before heading to the airport, we stumbled upon the Les Colonnes De Buren in the inner courtyard of the Palais Royal, an art installation from 1985. Hopping from stone to stone, and getting dizzy just looking at it. Especially after the hangover that comes with a true Parisian night out by the canal. Sipping on Jamaican cocktails, stumbling out the bar, just to find that the pot-head pickpocketer snatched your friend’s phone from her purse. Don’t stay out too late chicas, you never know what will happen! So to complete our French excursion, we had one last meal. Not the baguettes from the corner bakery, nor the delicious Vietnamese pho from Les Marais that I still crave, but a quick pit stop at H.A.N.D.S for a traditional American breakfast. Yes it means “Have a Nice Day.” Eggs, bacon, and toast. I guess we really are all American girls.
Days in Paris are meant for walking and soaking in it’s beauty until you’re so tired, you just have to sit down for a big glass of wine…and wifi. But it feels good to be disconnected. We had those simple moments leaning our heads back on the chairs at the Louvre as bursts of sunlight sporadically made it’s way through the clouds. The French either reading a book or staring up into the blue sky. Talk about a very chill Paris Fashion Week. I’m always down for a chat and good company as opposed to the crazy crowds of the front row.
I miss that golden glow that just radiates in Paris. I think of Jane and Serge. Charlotte’s “Stage Whisper.” Always on repeat on my playlist. Romantic and sultry. We found ourself leaning over the baloncy, just to get a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower lighting up, laughing like children and holding our wine. Screaming out words in our horrible French accents. Paris is more about enjoying the quality of life. Sitting in a cafe, and staring out into the street. Long conversations in the back of the nightclub. In America, we call it “straight up chilling.” But in France, it’s just a part of everyday life. Merci beaucoup. I think I finally know how to be Parisian.
Magical Paris! How I miss you so! I was in town with the lovely ZADIG ET VOLTAIRE team for Paris Fashion Week, and they definitely taught me the ropes to being Parisian. Rule 1: Never brush your hair. Rule 2: Smoke cigarettes at the Louvre in the Paris sunlight. Rule 3: It’s totally okay to wear a beret and French kiss. Rule 4: Drink wine until you pass out. Just kidding. But most importantly, have that je ne sais quoi. Zadig Et Voltaire is a brand I’ve loved forever. Their rock n’ roll aesthetic always drew me into their lair. The rock studded boots, feathered hats, and leather overalls. For the show, I went with this stardust maxi and fur vest. Dark, and just what I wanted to slip into the night in along the quaint streets of Montmarte. Blending in so well for their runway show, which also doubled as an underground nightclub complete with guitars, leopard couches, and extra strong liquor. The theme of the night was GROUPIE. Babes who can wear star-studded bras and oversize fur vests to a gig. Smudged eyeliner and all. All I can say is: I’M WITH THE BAND MAN.