Part Deux

Early evening here – dinner hour doesn’t start till 8, but I’m a little hungry, so I made myself a charcuterie plate at the apartment.

This morning, I awoke very early, but immediately turned over and went back to sleep. It’s Paris, after all. Even the birds sleep in, here.

(The guilt is gone.)

After my late morning French lesson over coffee, I ventured out to a nearby art store. “Nearby” being a one-mile walk. Of course, you have to add another mile, if you want to come home.

I always recommend to my friends that they pack several pairs of shoes when they come to Paris – there’s just a lot of walking here, so don’t be shy about it. Just don’t pack heels. Don’t do it. Unless you’re planning to Uber everywhere. Even then, the cobblestones will find you!

Back to my one-mile jaunt to the art store. I forced myself to go because I haven’t been creative for a while. I haven’t painted, drawn, or even knitted, at all. I’ve done some photography, but not a lot. I’m here in a city, rich in art and generous about sharing it, yet I personally feel void of it. I’m seeking impetus, desire, spark. Something! Where did it go? And, why did it go? And, will it ever come back?

I mentioned I came here to continue healing. So, I guess it’s fair to say that my art-heart needs some grace, too. It’s been through a lot. So, here’s to re-awakening all that desire – another renaissance peut-être.

My friend, Jennifer, in whose apartment I’m staying, is a Creative. She’s a designer, and it shows. I love the way she effortlessly styles herself and her surroundings. She’s been sending me photos of herself wearing what I helped her pick out and pack for her trip to Cannes and Antibes. I miss her company, and hope we have an overlap day or two when she returns, before I head home.

In the meantime, I’m making plans to meet a few other friends this week and next.

Okay, so again, on my way to the Art Store, I took a wrong turn. Surprise, surprise. I know, I know. Hey, I know I’ll get there, eventually. I don’t like being late, so I usually allow a lot (!) of extra time when I go to new places. But I’m not on a schedule, so I don’t even have any real anxiety about it. This is new. And, to be fair, I was listening to the directions using my AirPods as I walked along, so it was like Siri totally forced me to pass by this most adorable little shop that had some of the cutest blouses hanging outside. I mean, I just had to venture in, didn’t I? Right? Kismet.

It was a tiny shop – and after greeting the saleswoman, I noticed women just casually undressing in the back of the store trying things on. There was a small stall with a curtain, but it stood open and empty. And, to be fair, there so many rows of clothing, it was easy to (mostly) conceal oneself. But, otherwise, there was no hesitation. Oblivious to anyone walking in – focused only on the fit of their dress. It was all women. Of course I joined in, complimenting their choices in styles and colors, etc. It felt natural to do so. Hey, I’ve been here 72 hours.

Of course with the blouse I liked, there was only one left, so la vendeuse took it down from the display for me to try on. Sadly, it was a size medium, and though I tried it on with my new friends, I just didn’t have the body to fill it out. <sigh> We all agreed it was too big. Other blouses with a similar material/pattern just didn’t have the same appeal, and we all knew why. It was “la manche” I said. they agreed. I loved the sleeve. Oh well. I bid farewell to the half-naked ladies and left.

I walked on, and what do you know, just two or three stores down, another store had the same blouse, and, they had it in a smaller size. Kismet. And I have Siri to thank for the wrong directions, or I’d have missed all of that.

Hearts are on everything here right now – it’s apparently « la mode. »

At this point, I’m quite comfortable expressing myself in French, and it’s crazy to hear myself say that, because those of you who have been reading my blog since 2022, know of my early struggles. You were there laughing, I mean cheering me on, of course!

See, dreams really can come true – no matter your stage or station in life. You, too, can dress and undress while casually speaking French with strangers in the shops of Paris.

Oh, and I did make it to the art store! I was hoping to find, and did find a small watercolor set, small pad of paper, and maybe an ink pen or two. The store was great, 3 levels. Everything I wanted was on the top floor, and the elevator was broken. More stairs.