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:
www.galerie-lesyeuxfertiles.com

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.

Postcards from Paris: {Snow Days et Astier de Villatte}

I have been quite gleeful for these calm snow days in Paris. I notice more children out and about with their faces lit with excitement and their tongues out catching nice, full, fluffy flurries. I too, found myself with my tongue out in an attempt to just have one of those, what seems, sugar coated flakes to fall gently in my mouth. I stopped and straightened up only after a French gentleman offered me some of his water, as if I was in need of some hydration.
It is a funny thing how winter weather can make adults, like myself, revisit their childhood and act as curious as the young. I am reminded of a time only a few years ago while living in Atlanta, there was a great ice storm that cancelled school and offered a thick layer of ice over everything. The streets and sidewalks were like skating rinks, and my mother's winter garden had a clear, sheen layer over all the leaves and branches. My younger brother and I went out to explore and found ourselves biting things, which in any other weather condition would have seemed absurd. It was that thick layer of ice that made everything seem candy coated. I was filled with a similar gleeful excitement during my visit on the rue Saint-Honore to the special little space of Astier de Villatte How wonderful these handmade white ceramics are. Each one is made with care, and have their own slight individual characteristics. I first came in tactile contact with these beautiful bowels awhile back. It was during a visit at the John Derian boutique in SOHO. It was lust at first sight, then love right when I picked up one of the light, lovely pieces. Since then, I have read some featured articles about these works and the artist. The website, too, has glimpses of that child-like exploration and curiosity.

Postcards from Paris: {Je m'appelle Reba/ Views from Windows/ Settling In}

Je m'appelle Reba
It became so clear last summer as I was finishing up my last two credits in New York. I wanted to live in Paris, and I was going to make it happen. I have recently received my degree from The Savannnah College of Art and Design. I spent those four years in beautiful Savannah, Georgia focusing my studies the department of Fashion design, with some minor studies in Fibers and Textiles. With three quarters of no sleep, my senior collection was comprised of handknitted garments. I spent that last year of my studies watching French films on my couch as I knitted all my designs, and worked at The Paris Market. With those scenes from the French films playing constantly in my mind, the Parisian life seemed almost do-able.




Views from Windows
It was on the 2nd of January when my small group of American friends and I arrived in Paris from Germany. Starting out with the four of us, we spent a few nights in a hostel in Montmartre. Two left, leaving myself and one American friend to move on to a new window view. There was a night spent in a hotel, and then several at a French friend's flat. After my last friend departed back to the states, my moral support from America dwindled, and I was left to myself with a new window view.

Settling In
What a process settling in takes. I have officially unpacked my bags, hung my wrinkle-prone dresses, lined my shoes, filled all of my drawers to the maximum capacity, and essentially have conquered "settling in."

Postcards from Paris: {Bonne Annee}

Upon arriving in Paris, the boulangeries offered in their windows rows and rows of galette des Rois. Kings' Cake, which celebrates the Christian Holiday of the Epiphany. These beautiful, golden baked cakes come crowned. On the sixth of January, French friends and families indulge in this gilded gateau. Whoever comes across the small trinket in their slice is crowned king for the year. It is quite a nice way to start out the new year; being with loved ones and enjoying something sweet.
I have been walking throughout Paris this past week or so, and have been finding myself baffled as to why I hadn't participated in such a pleasant tradition. Today, it hit me the most. Settling in a new country with a new language has not been the most simplest, but as I walked through the Marais and noticed the discounted galette des Rois, I could not resist their simplicity.
Alas, the small trinket ended up not being in my slice, but what a royal feeling it really is to be starting the new year is Paris, France.
-Reba