It had rained a bit overnight, but the weather this morning was calling for clear skies and another beautiful day in the city of light.

After my morning Nespresso with Luigi, I hopped in the shower where I noticed Nathalie had kept my shampoo/conditioner from last summer. So sweet. Always the subtle touch. She also set up “my room,” with “my fan,” making it just so for me. I was immediately nostalgic for past summers – especially last year’s Paris Olympics and the crazy, wonderful time I had. Nathalie’s other friends (French) were in and out for the Games, so I’d had a lot of company in the apartment.

As I was finishing my somewhat stale pain au raisin, I opened the terrace for Luigi. The plants didn’t need watering what with the rainfall. I did my morning journaling and list-making at the table with my coffee as I waited for my hair to dry au naturel. It seems my hair dryer doesn’t work here even with the converter plugs.

The terrace view was inspiring as always, so I made a small sketch using Procreate on my iPad. Nothing fancy, it’s been a while, and I’m quite rusty. Graphic design is fun, accessible, and also literally very NEAT.

With apologies to Luigi, I closed the 3 terrace doors. It was just too chilly.

Last summer was sweltering and the heat was utterly inescapable, so I packed accordingly for this trip meaning only sleeveless items, with just one long-sleeved cardigan to go with everything, I felt confident. Unfortunately, while en route to the airport, I noticed that the one long-sleeved cardigan I was taking/wearing had a substantial hole at the shoulder. (No!!!!!!!) It was a piece I adored – a true staple in my wardrobe for 20 years – even my daughter used to borrow it. A lot. A classic. Well, it cannot be worn again, so I tied it around my waist, and thought it would have a fitting end in Paris, where all fashion is born and dies. I honestly hate to let it go, but she owes me nothing.

It’s August, right? Who needs a sweater anyway? Well, it turns out, I do. The temperatures in the shade here are uncomfortable in sleeveless attire. Plus, there is always a breeze. So, ok, my first order of business today was to buy a new cardigan. I walked to the local shops, passing my favorite unnamed boulangerie (still closed) to see if I could find something. Two stores later, my task was complete. I wore the new black cardigan right out of the store. And that is not the first time I’ve done that here. There’s a reason Parisians always have scarves handy year-round.

So, what else was on my list? The Apple Store. Why? Because another thing I had done before I left the States, was to upgrade my phone thinking it might be best to have a clean burner phone upon re-entry in case I’m detained at Customs. It has proven to be anything but a good idea. I’m struggling with how some things migrate over from the other phone (which isn’t dead), and some things don’t. It’s a struggle because you need both phones to make these choices. But having my old phone with me would’ve defeated the whole purpose for having this new phone. How do people do this? How do they live double lives with two phone numbers? My brain hurts.

Anyway, the Apple geniuses were kind, but couldn’t help me. I was slightly bummed, but resigned myself to the situation. Now what?

Walking back towards the Métro, I spotted a cute little lingerie shop across the street, and decided to pop in. They’re honestly everywhere in Paris and their styles fit/suit me well, so I tend to pick up a few sous-vetement items when I’m here. The way I suffer!

The sun was beating down on me now, as I left the shop, so I tied my new cardigan around my waist as I made my way down the block.

I decided to have lunch and check my list. There’s a café just behind Galleries Lafayette that looked so charming in the sun – and there was plenty of outside seating. I wandered over and was seated at a lovely little table perfectly suited for observers. I ordered a summer salad with Burrata and a mix of heirloom tomatoes, and plotted my next stop.

Since I had been sitting there looking at passers-by and the shops at Galleries Lafayette during the entirety of my lunch, I decided to go in and see what was happening.

OK, nothing in my price range was happening. I tease, but that floor you enter on is insane with Fendi, Dior, Chanel, Prada et al. I was there at Christmas, you may recall, and did the whole “glass walk” to see the dome and Christmas tree up close. LOVED it. Today, I was content to just walk around looking at all the beautiful people buying beautiful things. I admit I fell in love with a particular Christian Dior tote. I always liked it, and noticed Natalie has one that’s always here in her front hall closet, but they’ve updated it and now I just adore it. I didn’t even look at the price. I satisfied myself by taking a photo of it. Maybe I’ll paint or sketch an image of it!

I looked it up. 3,000Euros. But hey, one side says Christian Dior, and you can personalize the other side however you like, so it’s a bargain! What a book tote, non?

After taking photos for others posing with the dome, I made my way to the Children’s department. Level 5, where I admit I did buy a little something for a little someone.

It’s been an interesting day, language-wise. I went to check how many Métro rides were left on my Navigo card: 8. I thought I’d re-load it, but the machine wouldn’t let me, so I went up to the counter. I stood there thinking in both English and French and couldn’t speak in either for a moment. Can you imagine this? I asked the woman in French if she spoke French? I corrected myself, saying “Anglais,” and she said yes (in English) which was more than I was capable of in that moment. Turns out they’ve updated the system, so I have to use up my last 8 rides before they will refill it at the new rate.

At the dome, when I asked two young women if they wanted me to take their photo for them – they said to me, “We don’t speak French.” OMG. I had asked them in English! They had replied to me in English. I didn’t know where to go from there. Everyone seemed confused. They thought I was French and assumed they wouldn’t understand me before I’d uttered a word. I repeated myself, still in English, and they smiled and allowed me to take their photo. They thanked me, and for some reason, I replied in French!

Earlier, I had done fine in French when buying my cardigan. And when the salesman in the children’s department spoke in English, I continued to answer him in French – as I do. So, he actually apologized. He said, I’m so sorry, you’re speaking French to me, and I’m still speaking English. How lovely of you to speak to me in French. We had a nice convo. I told him while I am a teacher of French in the U.S., I will probably always be a student while in Paris. He told me I was sweet and quite modest.

Charm abounds in this city!

As I was sitting on the terrace typing, I realized this is my fourth year returning to Paris – sometimes twice in a year. It’s been a journey. A healing. It’s been my renaissance. How I remember after my first 6-month visit in 2022 crying my heart out like that woman zigzagging in line at the airport, wondering if I’d ever be back.

Merci pour tout, Paris.