Postcards from Paris: {In Fluffy form, alluding to the Classics}

Admitting unorignality, this is not my first statue post. In fact, this may very well be my third, and my second highlighting Le Louvre. It's not that there isn't anything thing left in this city that interests me. That couldn't be farther from the truth. Really, the reasoning for repeats has to do with my return and easing into routine. The changing season always makes me crave the classics. Unpretentiously blasting opera, Les Pêcheurs de perles,  to be exact, but only on the cloudy days, and lately whenever the sun comes out I've been switching to Gerard Lenormand's La Ballade des Gens Heureux. Eating falafel from my regular joint. Walking through Les Jardin des Tuileries. Free visits to the Louvre, and pretend-shopping along the rue Saint Honore. I've gotten really good with my 'pretend-shopping face' scrunching my brow in deep contemplation deciding whether or not the Astier de Villatte ceramic mugs would look good filled with my hot cocoa mix, and checking out the Rodarte dress at Colette from all angles, convincingly considering whether or not it's in my week's budget. I don't let the fact that the dress would probably not look right on my body type show in my expression, nor do I let any guilt surface from eating that entire falafel. Only because either right before or right after I remember the lovely statues from Le Jardin des Tuileries and Le Louvre. The ladies are always in fluffy form, yet keep on a look of elegant confidence. All of them lining the entry to a palace or within the Louvre surrounded by classically carved men.

Bisous,
Reba