Up until last week Paris felt like it was having a sort of Halcyon autumnal moment- streets bustling in bright sunshine and just enough of a breeze to finally dust off the trenchcoat. Which is of course a wardrobe staple for the majority of fashionably inclined women in the French capital. A trusty pair of loafers are of course optional, and you might even indulge in a bit of russet or brown in your colour palette, suede, and other such seasonal petits plaisirs. After all, we’ve been told that slouchy post-pandemic dressing is officially out- according to the stats. And Paris is the perfect place to play with a bit of joie de vivre dress up day to day- just make sure it’s chic enough to attract a few curious glances from those judgy Parisian ladies. Having done a September clear out of my teeming clothing cupboards, I’m giving it my best shot. Albeit without partaking in the fashion week commotion. I prefer vintage for the most part truth be told.
Last Sunday unfortunately then heralded the return of Paris’ grey and rainy alter ego- the smog edition. Maybe I’m a Paris romantic- but even the dreary weather here seems to provide a perfect excuse to escape into a museum, or maybe dash for shelter under the canopy at one of those vibrant Parisian brasseries sitting on every corner. Cliché as it might sound, there I can happily sip my chocolate chaud, eavesdropping on some proper french chitchat- which does always sound that bit more pleasingly exotic to the anglophone ear.
I in fact found the perfect spot for this very activity just recently, but with friend in tow. Ignoring the drizzle, we skipped a long line to see a Balenciaga exhibit (who needs that when you can happily stroll the 7ème). I love nothing better than a good ‘Flâner’ as the Frenchies call it, also known as a meander. Past the antique shops laden with religious statues and dusty old paintings, we came upon La Palette in the 6th. If you don’t go for classic French eateries then it won’t be your bag, but this place delighted me to no end.
We nestled in a corner under said canopy, a little too close to some chain smoking young french fellows discussing all things inappropriate. There were families, tiny dogs, snobby looking grand-dames and all varieties of unabated Frenchness on full show. It sated me in a way that many Parisian hotspots don’t. And yes the quintessential hot choc was a winner. Disclaimer that below photo doesn’t do it justice.
Equally charming for a reliable Sunday brunch is Cafe Marlette in the 9th. The popular Rue des Martyrs boasts many bakeries, boutiques and whatnot. But Marlette is a cosy little gem with homemade cakes, a reliable breakfast menu (if you’re the matcha and avocado toast type they provide both) and added outdoor seating to people watch. I went this morning and unashamedly asked for extra baguette. My friend had the chia pudding and I definitely had a pang of food envy. Across the road is Des Petits Hauts for a style peruse, plus a couple of others for jewellery and vintage treasures. Finally if you’re partial to creamy little pâtisseries (admit it) then Popelini specialises in artisinal choux pastry à la crème which are just insanely tasty. Highly recommend the pistache or salted caramel. Consider yourself warned.
I will confess that I came to Paris last November and fell into an unprecedented new found love of seasonality. Having lived in Lisbon up for three years prior, where it’s basically a nine month summer, the Celt in me was weirdly soothed by the less monotonously scorching climes. Call me foolish, but I could never really get used to not having a reason to make pumpkin soup or wear a snuggly wooly jumper when October rolled around. The fact Paris actually gets chillier by Halloween seems to me like an odd sort of reprieve after the soaring temps and lack of Autumnal foliage in Portugal. To me, Paris has proper meteorological variations that somehow soothe my pale Irish soul. Pair that with the quite literally stunning array of cultural activities to choose from every weekend and I’m a happy girl.
Oh and quite boringly in all honesty, I also love the range of fun workout studios on offer here. Yes, I said fun. I’ve taken a couple of friends, visiting and otherwise to a barre class called ‘Kalon’. This likely tells you something about my choice of friends (is it really our idea of fun is doing sweaty pliés in fogged up studio? Yup). Situated in lively Pigalle, the instructors have all worked as dancers in the likes of Crazy Horse, and the decor is satisfyingly showgirl themed. Lightbulbs on the mirrors and everything. The playlists are popping and thankfully showers and beauty products are included because getting on the metro straight after class that soggy looking should not be deemed socially acceptable.
During the hustle and bustle of the week I also discovered a lovely new (to my world) English bookshop. Maybe I’m incredibly late to the game (give me a chance to catch up, still a Paris fledgling), but San Fransisco Books Co is thrillingly stacked to the eaves with loads of quirky volumes. Stopping in here was a welcome respite from the rain and you can get lost in everything from ‘belles lettres’ to a bit of erotica. When I first came to Paris I was thinking small after scourging Lisbon for English books and finding them a bit scarce. I actually believed the Anglo corner in Fnac to be nothing if not a token resource. Then discovered that no, Paris has grander aspirations, naturally, and there are multiple comfortingly fusty English options.
A few cultural hot tips from my neck of the woods for the next week or two up next. I was nothing short of riveted by the exhibitions of two female photographers Chantal Akerman (Belgium) and Tina Barney (US) at Jeu de Paume in Paris. Both have just opened and felt like, as often with photography, a voyeuristic zoom in on worlds we otherwise cannot access.
In ‘Familial ties’ Barney explores themes of status, generational relationships and the domestic in her colourful portraits. There’s a pop of glamour and an almost stifling feeling of privilege- we see what seem like the family snapshots of the wealthy, often staged.
Tina Barney says of her work,
“When we look at ourselves in the mirror, we can’t really see what we look like. The only way to examine ourselves, or the history of our lives, is through photography.”
Equally Chantel Akerman’s expo ‘Travelling’ is a fascinating deep dive into the work of the renowned film maker and photographer. If you fancy making the jaunt out to the gallery at Place de la Concorde, it’s a thought provoking trip.
Last but by no means least, also worth checking out Emilia Perez by French director Jacques Audiard which is in some French cinemas now (not sure if it’s widely available yet). Don’t let the fact it’s a ‘musical crime comedy’ put you off- it’s bold and entertaining.
Thanks for the read folks. If you made it this far then Bon weekend à tous.
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