17 - March - 2012
Well there is nothing doing, dear Reader,
but March 17th 2012 in paris will have to be a grey day and what is more, cold. Forget that last night people were having dinner outside like this was a summer night, too much of a good thing is not good for you so today is grey and cold, like 42.8 degrees Fahrenheit. So to prove this see a cafe :
See ? See the tables ? Unoccupied. That is a sign that the therapy of the cafe is going inside not out.
So on a saturday in paris if you are a Parisian couple, and it is 42.8 degrees outside, this is how you dress :
Navy blazer, jeans, black shoes.
That 's it. You cannot dress different. It's the 42.8 degrees uniform. And everyone is dressed this way. You do not want any of these schmaltzy colors like [ gasp ] yellow or green or red. It is just not done. Perhaps a small small clutch in an Hermes orange color, that might be allowed, but even that, that is bordering on improper.
So the Reporter was missing some supplies for her master painting, and Sennelier was again on the order of the day.
And .... when she got to Sennelier, there was a crowd, the result was that the suspicious staff was quite " affairé " which means bustling about, and so she was not being surveyed too closely and she could take some pics of her beloved Sennelier :
the monster oil pastels that one of her painter friend is addicted to :
one portion of the brushes that the Reporter is addicted to :
the other portion of the brushes that the Reporter is also addicted to :
The pics, you will have noticed as you are, Dear Reader, very perceptive, are a little fuzzy, And that is because, the Reporter was a little terrified to be found out taking those surreptitious shots, so her heart was pounding and that had the camera somewhat unstable in her distinguished hands.
This is the front room closet with all kinds of goodies :
and this is the closet in the back of the room with all sorts of goodies too,
That is in fact a very queer pic as I peruse over it because I realize now there is round mirror on the closet and in fact, [ gasp ] one can see the Reporter in it taking the pic. Scary.
Well, once the Reporter got all her supplies in a plain plastic bag, she got out of Sennelier.
The Dear Reader has to understand : No One, can equal the grace of Audrey Hepburn having breakfast in front of Tiffany's window, but to be honest, the Reporter wouldn't mind coming each morning with a coffee cup and a croissant and have breakfast in front of Senneleir's windows. But the thing, of course, is that in france, you do not walk the street of a city with a coffee cup in hand, this is just not the proper manner to adopt in a City.
So walking on back to paint, the Reporter stumbled on an Epicerie Fine.
It is not wrirtten Epicerie Fine on the awning, but it is painted above the entrance door. Epicerie Fine doesn't mean Thin Grocery, as you do not find in france products which are there to make you thin, [ gasp ], the French do not even want to hear the word, 'diet', but of course it means Fine Grocery in opposition to the Groceries which are vile.
Check on the sidewalk, on the left side of the photo, the pile of wood for your 18th century fireplace to warm your humble abode.
Then the Reporter came upon a lovely flower girl who could be our new Eliza, if only Rex Harrison was still around to care for, and refine flower girls,
and then the Reporter came upon the venerable DeBauve & Gallais store
Now this is a venerable house and of course excellent chocolate. This is a serious matter and no one wouldn't take seriously the choosing of a sample of those delicacies.
As a matter of fact they create their own chocolate in the back yard of that venerable building, and above the driveway that takes you to an adorable yard shaded by old trees, you can see this sign:
As you can see, it says :
De Bauve & Gallais, FABRICANTS DE which means MAKERS OF, CHOCOLATS FINS ET HYGIENIQUES, which means
OF FINE CHOCOLATES [ compared to the vile ones that others make ] AND HYGIENIC. IT probably just means they are clean and healthy. Which of course they are.
So this is the end of another highly educative post on the strange mores of the Parisians.
Last but too lovely, Le Salon du Dessin, the Drawing Show,
With all love,