Le Marron

When autumn comes around each year, I bake my morning muffins, put cinnamon in everything, light candles, drink more tea and love the feeling of cozy. - cozy sweaters, cozy socks, cozy blankets in front of all the new shows that are on French TV. I also celebrate the end of swamp ass.

The French do all these things too, I'm sure, but one thing they have that's new to me is le marron. 

I've always known that My Very Parisian Friend collected them because her mother used to give her one at the beginning of l'automne. She still collects them now in memory of her. What I didn't know was that lots of Frenchies pick up the first marron of the season and keep it in their pockets as a porte bonheur - a good luck charm. 

So far, I have been the recipient of two marrons - one from my essential-oil-loving colleague who had picked one up on her way back from lunch, and one from Copain as we walked through the Bois de Vincennes yesterday.  

I haven't picked up my own marron yet, but I love the ones I've been given. It's a simple reminder that the seasons are changing; a lovely little tradition that I'm going to add to my autumn list of things to look forward to.  

Pregnant in Paris

My copine d'enfance will be visiting me this weekend with her mari.  I had visions of wine and cheese-filled evenings and galavanting all over Paris on Velibs - but - Madame is enceinte. Pregnant in Paris.

So, I've had to regroup.

Les pauvres are currently stuck in Miami because their flight in LA was delayed due to technical difficulties.  They got to check-in just as their Miami flight to Paris was leaving the gate. Thankfully they got a hotel because my clever copine pulled the Pregnancy Card - big time. Apparently American Airlines is sympathetic to those of us who are in the sixième mois de grossesse. (Or my copine is really good at yelling at customer service).

Once in the hotel, ma copine started to lose her mind (I blame the hormones). Somehow she ordered a salad from room service with shrimp - you know, one of the foods you're not supposed to eat while pregnant.


Then she got an email from the Vueling airline letting her know that their flight from Paris to Rome might fall on a day of strikes - genial.


Oh - and wouldn't you know that all of the flights to Paris from Miami were booked?! -including all of the other airlines because of the rentrée scolaire?! So, instead of just getting on a flight to Paris the following day at the same time, they have to take a flight to JFK and THEN a flight to Paris, arriving approximately 24 hours later than originally planned.

I honestly don't know how she is holding up - or how her mari is holding up with a six-month crazy pregnant lady.

So, mes amis, what shall I do with a pregnant copine in Paris - one who has had a rocky start to her vacances already?

Le Rhythme de la France

Most places in the world have a rhythm all their own. Perhaps it's because my adult years have been spent in France, but here (especially in Paris) and especially now that I am spending my second summer en ville, I truly notice a very distinct rhythm that creates the heartbeat of ce pays.

Life starts with La Rentrée when children go back to school and adults go back to work. Everyone is tanned and well-dressed (from les soldes- sales!), nostalgic for les vacances but motivated for a fresh new start. The metro is full, the streets are bustling and the city buzzes with energy.

Soon there is a chill in the air, butternut squash and citrouille start popping up in the open-air marchés and women begin to wear their go-with-everything trench coats.

Days get shorter, trench coats turn into les manteaux d'hiver, scarves begin to make their appearance and finally foie gras and champagne are being sold en masse in the specialty boutiques for Noël. Finally, the mayor decorates the city with twinkling lights and the shop keepers compete for the fanciest vitrine.  The smell of roasting marrons fills the air...

After the holiday craze come the first of two yearly soldes. Les français et surtout les françaises flock to Paris for the best stores, the biggest selections and the most exasperating shopping experiences of their lives. Only the truly motivated (or truly crazy!) tempt the ginormous Galeries Lafayette and Printemps.

A mild depression takes over the country as everyone waits for winter to be over and for spring to shine a little light over l'Hexagon. Frown lines are de rigeur. Getting out of bed when it's still dark in the morning is pure torture.

Finally! Boots are no longer a necessity and the terraces and streets are packed at the first sign of sunlight!  Le bonheur est de retour.  No one even cares that they can hardly move on the rue des Francs Bourgeois because the entire city has come out of its cave at exactly the same time.

Students cram into libraries and study for leurs examens. Office folk work late in preparation for les vacances. Everyone wants to know where everyone else will be spending their summer. Et toi, tu vas passer les vacances où? The second round of sales is in full force and les françaises cram into tiny, sweaty dressing rooms, determined to faire une affaire.


And then ladies and gents, mesdames et messieurs, the moment they've all been waiting for...les vacances. Parisians clear out of the city and head south, tourists land at Charles de Gaulle airport and parking suddenly becomes available again. The city is relaxed, France is happy.  On the télévision they obsess about la météo, how hot it will be aujourd'hui, demain and the day after demain. Picnics abound on the Champs de Mars and La Place des Vosges, les glaces drip off their cones, Paris builds a beach right along la Seine for those unfortunate few who cannot leave town.

And then, like clockwork, la saison estivale comes to a close, the children shop for their new trousse, the cherished French pencil bag, and sweaters start to fill the rayons at Monoprix.  Everyone starts to prepare mentally and fashionably for la rentrée...

I can feel La Rentrée on the horizon, but until then, I'm quite enjoying my quiet walks home, the warm, cheery terraces full of carefree vacationers and my unfashionable summer dresses...

Paris Plage

Check out a book and relax by the Seine

Les vacances, right in the heart of Paris...

Le Purse de la Parisienne

Oh la la - I love les Parisiennes and their lovely purses.  Perhaps I'm dreaming of the rentrée, when all little Frenchies get new school backpacks and all big Frenchies get new outfits and new autumn purses to go with them.

In any case, I'm on a purse hunt. I saw this gem on Rue du Pas de la Mule in the 3rd arrondissement of Paris.  The paparazzi-photo doesn't do this vintage-y black bandoulière justice, just a hint of her red cigarette carton popping out the side.

Darn slow tourists - I couldn't get close enough for a better shot!

Dans les Rues de Paris - Elegance for La Rentrée

Today was la fameuse rentrée in France - back to school.  And here La Rentrée is a BIG DEAL.  It's so fantabulously big that people take off the entire month of August just to prepare for it.

They buy new rentrée clothes, new rentrée books and pens and little cases to hold all of their pens.  They get haircuts and new shoes and enroll in dance classes and tai chi.  If it's closed now, don't worry! It will open for the rentrée. If you can't buy it now, you'll be able to - at the rentrée. Store hours change, metros get crowded and parking spots become things that only exist in dreams with fairies and lots of chocolate-covered pretzels.

I should have known to be more prepared but alas, I didn't get the month of August off which therefore did not give me ample prep time for the big rentrée day.  As a result, today in the metro I stood out as the summer slob amongst an array of well-cut jackets, scuff-free boots and sharply trimmed bangs sported by chic Parisiennes. I, on the the other hand, was the girl in the transition summer dress over leggings, sandals, scarf and ponytail.  The so-un-chic Américaine.

I would normally brush this off as a difference in cultural values, but as of yesterday I have noticed that even the Parisian bums have upped their elegance quota!  It all began when I noticed one of them begging for money with a Starbucks cup.  If you even have half a brain you know that a Starbucks cup totally ups your cool / chic / hip quotient by like at least 50 - why else would Mary Kay and Ashley carry them as accessories?  Two thoughts went through my head: A. this bum is chicer than me. B. this bum has lost all bum credibility.  Then I thought again - perhaps the Parisians appreciate this bum's effort for elegance therefore increasing the probability of a donation.

My bum observations did not stop there! Today on my way home I witnessed the following:

1. A bum painting her nails.
2. A bum drinking wine on the side of the rue - wine bottle on the ground, right next to a....wine GLASS!!!  (actual glass like in a restaurant people)
3. A crazy balding man in a black faux fur mini-skirt and yellow top, beige knee-high nylons, goatee and slippers. - he obviously didn't get the rentrée memo.

So I guess it just comes down to the fact that the Parisians, no matter what their social status, expect a certain amount of reverence for La Rentrée.  Lesson learned here at FrenchCannesCannes - I so obviously need to step it up a notch before the locals mistake me for the least elegant bum of all.

Crap - somebody get me a tall mocha for the road.