I was in Cannes last weekend, celebrating my friend's bday on the lovely, warm, vacation-feeling Côte d'Azur. It was everything you would want in a weekend, including but not limited to:
-lunch with beer
-napping on the beach until we realized our faces were turning into raspberries
-a performance I could sing along to (The Sundown Sisters!)
-dancing at Ladies Night until 4am (Merci to T for playing what he considers crap just for our listening and bootay-shaking pleasure)
-staying during after-hours to talk about everything and nothing with girlfriends
-pasta with parm at 5am
-bed at 6am
-girlfriend shopping in Nice (SPREE!!)
-sushi
-Franky's beach hut lunch
-birthday millefeuilles
-going out tops, dresses and heels - dangly earrings - hairspray - smokey eyes
-movie night (ps - 27 Dresses is not that great)
-good red wine
-lots of vanilla ice cream (with honey on top! Childhood fave)
-sleeping in the Cannet where I woke up every morning to birds chirping and a view of the Med...
In addition to realizing how much I miss my Anglo girls, visiting made me miss the safety and calm of Cannes - two things that are hard to come by on a regular basis in Paris. I must have said at least ten times that Paris is stressful and that I have just gotten over my bataille with winter. As my friend L and I were doing our makeup in the bathroom for birthday fun and Ladies Night we noticed that we were basically two-toned...as in she was tan and I was...not.
After about 30 minutes under the Cannes sun, we noticed later that night that my face was literally a tomato - bright red - made worse by the fact that the sun had somehow missed my neck. (Tomato on a popsicle stick?)
When I put on my "going out outfit" it took awhile to feel comfortable. In Paris I do all that I can to fondre dans la foule (fade into the crowd) - for safety reasons if nothing else (what if I have to run through the metro?! I can't be wearing heels! Yes, my dad was a cop). But in Cannes, the sky's the limit! Heels, earrings, hot pants - Cannoise style. It was fun to play dress up after a year of fading...
And while it was hard to say goodbye to the mini-holiday in a place that I used to call home (all 56 meters squared of it), it was also nice to see Copain waiting for me at the Gare de Lyon...my favorite train station in Paris. As we walked home, I was happy to be back- with chatter on terraces, a warm Spring night and my bed waiting for me in our teeny, tiny chez-nous.
It's true that it's less easy to dress up in Paris than in the South... I truly understand you!
ReplyDeleteWhen I'm on holidays, I always decide that I'll dare more once I get back to Paris ("what do I care about what people think?") but after a day, I'm always back on my regular clothes...