I love December. Always have. And it’s 12/12 ! – I used to love this date, but that’s another tale.

My time here in Paris is dwindling down, and I haven’t written for a few days because I’ve been busy.

I had totally forgotten that I had booked a tour of the History of Fashion! That was Wednesday, or was it Tuesday… hold on.

OK, it was Tuesday afternoon, and it was fabulous! And lucky me, again, I was the only person who booked the tour, so I had “Ivo” all to myself for two hours. He was a WEALTH of knowledge, having received his Master’s Degree in Fashion-something-or-other, and of course, living in Paris. Even in the cold, rainy Parisian Winter weather, the man was put together. I felt shlumpy, but I was also too cold to care.

We talked about how high fashion – haute-couture filters down. How those colors and styles now end up in “fast fashion” for people who cannot afford the luxury brands, and how even carrying a certain brand of makeup in one’s purse is another way for women to enjoy the beauty of these designers. It was at this point that I pulled out my CD lip color. Red, of course. I had bought it here this past summer during the Olympic Games. Christian Dior, bien sûr.

I tried to snap photos as we walked along, but since I was the only guest on the tour, I didn’t want to be rude. We walked all over the 1er arrondissement, having met at Place Colette.

On my walk, I took in the sights.

We met here for the fashion history tour…

The funeral of Yves Saint-Laurent was held at this church, Saint-Roch, on rue Saint-Honoré in paris, across from where his storefront was – the name now being just “Saint-Laurent,” which happens a lot when designers lose control of their brand. It happened with (Christian) Dior, (Paco) Rabanne, and others.

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A few blocks later, and I realize I’m not taking photos…

We pass in front of the storefront, and I stop him from talking, saying, “This can’t be a coincidence…” I think this was Goyard (he is on both side of the street, across from one another), but when I saw this leather tote, I pulled out my Monoprix nylon expandable bag. He gasped and we both took photos!

And then, I looked up…

Je suis sur mon trente-et-un. He had no idea. I said, “IT MUST BE! IT HAS TO BE!” This is an expression in France – much like Americans say “He was dressed to the nines,” the French say, I am in my 31, my best.

Well, I was excited, but learned it really comes from 31 décembre. Still, I will always think it’s a wink-and-a-nod to Coco.

We passed by so many houses, and I heard more history than my brain can hold, but I was riveted for two hours.

I came home and invited Hélène to the apartment. I set up a little apéro, and we chatted for a few hours, making plans for another get-together on Friday evening.

We stopped at a local café here at Saint-Paul en route to my taking her to the Métro, and we enjoyed un chocolat chaud.