Postcards from Paris: {Wearing White in Winter}

Yes, white is normaly worn in the summer, but I found it to be some form of liberation to wear it layered. It gave me a sense of refreshment. My room-mate with a baffled look as I departed out the door explained to me in french, but white is worn in the summer.
Oui, Je sais.
And with that and a smile, she handed me a white fur collar of her's. I wrapped it around my neck and departed. During my walk through Les Halles and the Tuileries, not many people were wearing white. In fact, I can't recall a single person.
With the Tuileries leading to the Champs Elysees, one of the most classically stylish areas of Paris, I found myself in front of these folks...
Pale on pale, with their draped white cloaks.
Oh, to match the statues in Paris!
No shame in wearing white in winter.

For the sake of my parents who read this blog, I was also wearing a heavy coat.


Postcards from Paris: {Rose's Bakery}

My love for Rose's Bakery stemmed from her published cookbook, Breakfast Lunch Tea. I find the images within to be honest and delicious. Like a view of an artist's studio; in a slight disarray, but creativity bursting from every crevasse. Being that their first location is just a block away from the hostel, where myself, along with all my visiting company has stayed at in Montmartre, and the second location just a few blocks away from my flat in the Marais; I have stopped by and indulged on a couple of occasions. My friend who has just departed from her visit to Paris shares a similar admiration for the cookbook, and fancied herself an occasion to go three days out of the seven she was here.
The overall atmosphere is minimal, with fresh produce embellishing the scene. The wait staff is very friendly, and all seem to have a creative edge to themselves. Coming from four years at an art school in Savannah, the kids don't always seem put-together, but there is an understanding that it's because they are creatively driven and it was nice to get a similar vibe at Rose's little bakery in Paris.
And the food, so delightfully arranged. My eyes...happy, and my tastebuds even happier.

Postcards from Paris: {Music in the Metro}

I have been charmed over and over again with the performers in Paris. Especially so in the Metro. Their echo flows throughout the station and one never knows which corner they'll turn to meet the source of sound.


Postcards from Paris: {Lovin' Lanvin}

Coming up here is Paris fashion week. All the fashionistas are out and about, and during this time everyone looks spectacular. Perhaps if they happen to run into the Sartorialist, Garance, or any other Fashion photographer they are ready. I must admit, I myself, have been giving my daily look a second glance before I head out the door. It's nice having a little, "what if..." to start one's day.
Other than addressing what everyone is wearing, I wanted to point out these great windows from Lanvin. The past several seaons from Lanvin have been on-point exactly, and having a degree in Fashion design, it is something that I very much appreciate. I also appreciate a good window set-up. Working at the Paris Market, it was nice having a few occasions to dress the window. A well dressed window with a well dress mannequin, that's something to write home about.


Postcards from Paris: {Mieux en noir et blanc.}

Every post I start to write, I always want to begin by typing, "best day ever." Daily experiences in Paris are simple, yet poignant. Living in Paris is similar to when one discovers he/she enjoys reading. I remember the realization that reading books felt like, having a good time. Every new book I read became my new favorite. As it is here with each new day. This evening after another wonderful serving of chocolat chaud at Le Cafe de Flore, my friend and I took a stroll through the small cobblestone walkways of the Latin quarter. One of the bookstores had such a warm, welcoming feeling to it, that we had to go in. I try avoiding books that are about Paris, France because I already count with my fingers the American way, I can hardly pronounce any French word correctly if it has an "r" in it, and I take way too many photographs to seem the least bit natural. So I just imagine that looking through a book about Paris might as well be me in white tennis shoes wearing a fanny pack. When in all actuality, I am just too conscientious because the book I happened to pick up was a book of Robert Doisneau's photography, and I have no shame in that. Doisneau features in his work Parisians being Parisian, and living their lives in their city of delight. His series of work is simple, with an element of honesty. And looking through the clever shots in black and white I felt joy and excitement for the new favorite days to come.

My offering from a past favorite day...


Postcards from Paris: {The Best Of...}

I cannot even imagine the right things to say when describing my feelings for "good food."
Good food can be so descriptive and touch on every sensation, and yet it's so simple. When eating something delicious I hardly find myself analyzing the tastes as I would with a painting, film, or book. Instead the barbarian in me just makes noises like, "mmmm" "ohMmm" "yummm" or short phrases like, "oh wow" "so good" etc. etc.
Living here in Paris, with my lack of French; I feel like "good food" is the one thing I can communicate well in. Lately, I have been expressing a lot of "mmmm"s aloud and I find it to be an international understanding.

LaDuree: {The Best Macarons}

It was after an afternoon movie on the Champs-Elysees. Some of the movie theatres have been playing films from last year for only 3 euro. So, my friend/French instructor suggested that we take advantage of such a scenario. The movie was great, The September Issue, about fashion, Vogue magazine. It was right up my alley. It was then suggested that we go to LaDuree. A well-known establishment, specifically for their macarons. Also, right up my alley. It was confessed during our first French tutorial last week that I have low self-esteem when it comes to my french "r". It's been a little frustrating, especially being that my absolute favorite thing to eat is one of the most difficult things for me to pronounce correctly. There has been a series of me walking into different patisseries, and saying: "Je voudrais un macaron, s'il vous plait." The person I am ordering from usually becomes baffled. I repeat and repeat, and between the both of us there is that element of frustration. Finally after offering hand gestures and pointing, I am understood. I either have to find something else I enjoy just as much, or I have to overcome this taunting trial by practice. Being the good French tutor she is, Yohana encouraged me not to give up. I took her encouragements, and I overcame. Between the waitor and I, we had the least amount of confusion I have experienced yet, and the best macarons I have had since being here. We were after all, at LaDuree.

L'as Du Fallafel: {The Best Falafel}

The day when my tastebuds were sending the strongest falafel-cravings to my brain happened to be on a Saturday, which meant that most things in the Marais are closed, including the best falafel place, L'as du Fallafel. So my mind had to put those cravings on hault. The other day I was able to pacify the urge, and get myself a 5 euro falafel from the tastiest place to get one. Oh what a wonderful thing a good falafel really is, and oh how it manages to hit the right spot-dead on. Another wonderful element to this chickpea, cabbage, eggplant delight; it doesn't break one's bank.

Berthillon's: {The Best Ice Cream}

Not that I was necessarily seeking out where to find the best ice cream. To be completely honest, I was more interested in where to find the best hot chocolate, or the warmest something or another. It's cold in Paris, and yet, Parisian after Parisian offered their knowledge of where to get the best ice cream. They would all say something along the lines of, "If you want the best ice cream, go to Berthillon's." And so I went, and so I found that Parisians don't lie, at least when it comes to ice cream. It was good. It was fantastic, and once I finished my scoop of Praline a la Citron, I was really very close to buying another. But I figured if I could find a justification for buying another, then I would probably justify even a third, and that put a stop to a possible over-indulgence. Instead, something to look forward to for another day on the Ile Saint-Louis.

If anyone has some favorite "good food" places in Paris, please by all means, share!


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Postcards from Paris: {C'est la lumière qui fait briller tout}

Okay. I wanted to steer away from anything too cliche, but how could one speak of the city of light, without mentioning the light? Today, every corner turned there was this glow, which illuminated everything. Making the city seem gilded with gold. This entire day of illumination started out with a climb to the highest peak in Montmartre, continuing through the Marais, the Latin Quarter, through Les Halles, and onward to the Ile Saint-Louis. The sunlight was as follows: So because I may have posted about the obvious; I offer a short, poorly-filmed clip of a well mentioned figure who rolls through Paris playing his piano. I was fortunate to have crossed his paths on the Ile Saint-Louis, on this beautiful sun-filled day. Once again, my apologies for the poor quality.


Postcards from Paris: {La Galerie Les Yeux Fertiles}

As I reflect on the past few days with my warm cup of Chamomille tea and Debussy playing in the background I feel content and just fine with staying in on a Friday night.
The other day while exploring through the Latin quarter to fulfill a falafel craving, I was distracted by this small gallery on rue du Seine. Already being driven by an appetite mission, I thought that just a quick window glance would not result in starvation. But just a quick window glance had me wanting more, and so I entered.
My hunger was glady put on hault as I indulged in the appetizing visuals. Influenced by a number of surrealist work, like Max Ernst and Salvador Dali, as well as referencing Dada work, specifically Marcel Duchamp's Fountain; Lou Dubois takes such inspirations and interprets them through collage work. Constructed within antique entomologist drawers, Dubois' creations echo invention and curiosity.
Along with the aesthetically intriguing, this collaged series offers a history of France with such references as the historical perfumeries right outside of Paris and literary references alluding to Albert Camus.

For more information on the artist or to view the gallery's website, go to:


Postcards from Paris: {Color Scheme}

How wonderful the Parisian color scheme is. I find that the overall palette, though a vague observation, is simply as follows:
General Winter Fashion= black.
General Architecture= off-white.
General tone of the Chimney Stacks= terra cotta red.
Oh, but the doors!-

Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate the simple French tones, in fact most of my wardrobe consists of a beige, off-white and black palette, but what a pleasant surprise these vastly colored doors offer. Especially on these grey, cold days. Though January is definately living up to it's Winter season expectations, I found warmth in the variety of colors found on these doors. Less layers of socks, more pictures taken of colorful doors.