I Went To Paris Fashion Week (almost).

A tangential item on my life bucket list has always been to go to an actual fashion show during Fashion Week in some major city.    I’m living in Paris now, so why not here?  I’ll just go to the website and buy a ticket, I smugly think to myself.  Just like the Statue of Liberty or an Alcatraz Tour, yes?  Non.   Evidently, you have to be somebody to go to a Paris Fashion Week show.   You have to be INVITED.    I suppose “people” know this, but I did not.   A new friend I’ve made here actually knows “people” and she was able to score an invite.   She inquired if I could be her plus one, but sadly was denied.  However, since I was only one degree of separation from the actual event, I feel confident in saying that I went to Paris Fashion Week (almost).

In any event, we celebrated the week in other fashion-oriented ways.  The silver lining to not understanding your local language is that you wander into places you wouldn’t normally go into.   This week, while waiting for Allie at dance, I opted out of café drinking and decided to engage in some retail reconnaissance.  I passed by a little shop with lots of cashmere sweaters in the window.   Upon further inspection, there were racks of great clothes sorted by designer, and another room full of cashmere.  It all looked new and of good quality – and at greatly reduced prices.   I knew it wasn’t really a “sale”.  These are government regulated in France, and there are only two official sale periods: once in summer and another right after Christmas. 

It turns out that I stumbled upon a consignment store.  I never go into these places because I don’t really understand how to choose good used clothing.  For some reason, it was easy today.   I bought a few grown up sweaters, but also picked up this little gem, because it was fun and I love Marilyn Monroe (I also love Jackie Kennedy – that JFK knew his stuff).   Plus it’s pink and sort of highlights her breasts.  It is Breast Cancer Awareness month after all.  Jim likes it, but the girls vetoed it and won’t let me wear it outside of the house.  What do we think?

J'adore Marilyn.

Allie and I also happened upon Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré.   She was in need of new dance apparel and the shop she was interested in happened to be on this street.  It was purely coincidental that we were here during Fashion Week, as almost every major fashion house is represented in this location.    We saw lots of “people”, but alas, no accidental consignment shop sightings.   Our destination was Bloch.  Quite possibly the most beautiful dancewear shop ever.   They also make wonderful ballet flats for regular people like me, in a cornucopia of colors.  I limited myself to basic black and, following Allie’s advice, a gorgeous deep maroon.

The showroom at Bloch.

My acquisitions!

Jim also stepped up his fashion game.    We ventured into Printemps.   For those familiar with Neiman Marcus, it is very similar – a veritable museum of designer goods.  25 floors spread out over three buildings.  There is an entire building dedicated to menswear.   After careful consideration, we decided Hugo Boss was the designer for Jim.

He road tested his new ensemble at a party last weekend.    Another event we were required to be invited to, the 9^th grade cocktail party (just to clarify, because a friend asked:  this was a PARENT cocktail party, not for the actual 9^th graders).   A new friend introduced us to her husband by saying:  “honey, this is that cool couple I was telling you about”.  I looked behind me to see who she was talking about, but no one was there.  I’m certain it was Jim’s new look.   Maybe we will be considered “people” now.

Fashion Week street action.

There are some wonderful flea markets in Paris.  As much as I get high on the smell of Nordstroms, I equally love wandering around a good outdoor market.  Unfortunately, I don’t have the skill or taste to make the right choices.   This week we visited the Foire de Chatou, which is only open for about a week every year.  I think if you’re into flea markets, this one might just make your head explode.    My Marilyn Monroe fetish continues as you can see below.

Earlier this month, the “Nuit Blanche” occurred.   This is an all night festival which exhibits art, musical, and theatrical events.  It was inspired by St. Petersburg’s “White Nights”, designed to keep folks entertained on those summer nights when the sun didn’t set.  The Paris event occurs on the first Saturday night of October and is a way of shaking off the summer and welcoming fall.  This year’s theme was “Atmosphere”, to tie into the World Climate Conference, which will be held in Paris at the end of this year.

I went with a friend (whose husband also didn’t have a hankering for an all-nighter).  Among the offerings that we saw:  a huge ice installation, slowly melting all night, to demonstrate the effects of climate change.   We also observed a large vat of goat cheese, in the middle of a lighted courtyard.  It was surrounded by people dipping chunks of bread into it.   I’m not sure what it had to do with climate change, but we chose not to sample this particular goat cheese.

Nuit Blanche.

With Kelly, fellow adventurer.

Our culinary enjoyment continues.  For the most part.  Last Sunday night, the girls being otherwise occupied, we decided to take it down a notch and sample a place called “Frogs” (because it can’t be all champagne and goat cheese).  It puts itself out as an American style brew pub of sorts, and is popular with the high school crowd.   Katie discouraged us from going (for various reasons).   However, it’s down the street from us and we feel it our duty to sample all of the local eateries.   We ordered burgers – beef for Jim and veggie for me.  

Living in California, I’m a bit spoiled in the veggie burger department, so I should have known better.   When my food arrived, I was a bit puzzled.  The “burger” looked like a piece of  rubbery white fish, and had a “unique” flavor.  I asked the waitress what it was exactly.  Brows furrowed, she peers a bit closer.  “Hmm, I’m not sure, but I’ll go ask.”  Never a good sign.  She comes back a moment later and declares it to be “cheese and meal”.    I’m not sure what else needs to be said, except that there is a huge opportunity in French casual cuisine for someone who wants to introduce a good veggie burger.

Veggie burger? Judge for yourself.

Jim on a mission in our new favorite wine cellar on Rue Poncelet.

We did another walking tour this week with our guide extraordinaire, Philipe.  The focus was the French Revolution.  We wandered around the Saint-Germain des Prés neighborhood, ending up at the Ecole des Beaux-arts de Paris.   A public, very prestigious art college.   It was fun to observe actual French college students sketching in the historic courtyard.

Ecole des Beaux-arts.

Our guide, Philipe.

The last event worth noting is that I took a quick trip to Brussels with a couple of other moms.  This was ostensibly for the purpose of watching Katie’s x-country meet (which I did).  Brussels is a great city and the people are really lovely and welcoming.  Among other things, it is known for chocolate, biere(beer), and the "Mannekin Pis" (little boy pissing) statue.    

Grande Place.

We did a bike tour, which was great fun, but we're pretty sure our guide was a bit intoxicated.   Apparently, she decided I looked responsible and made me wear the fluorescent vest to keep track of the group from the back.   She briefly lost track of us when someone’s bike chain fell off, and another had a flat tire.  But, she introduced us to a most delicious frites and biere place.

As we were admiring the view from one of the many historic spots of the city, a slightly inebriated, possibly homeless young man looked at me and said (slurred really), “tres jolie.”    I realize I should be offended by the sexual harassment intonations, but I took it as a compliment.

A wonderful Champagne bar in Brussels.

Finally, we indulged in some local shopping.  After the requisite chocolate purchase, we found an Italian leather glove shop.  A rainbow of colors and various types of gorgeous, soft, creamy leather gloves.  I bought these cashmere lined leather beauties. 

 We did pass by a really interesting consignment type shop and I’m having buyers remorse for what I didn’t buy:  a pair of vinyl Wonder Woman boots, which would have been perfect for the next Halloween party we hope we are invited to.    When we return home to our “people”. 

À bientôt