Au Revoir!

By the time you read this, we'll be heading for the airport. 

I haven't wanted to talk about our upcoming vacation for fear of jinxing it - the last time we were supposed to go away was March, 2020, and everyone knows how that turned out. Then there were two reschedulings, with corresponding family crises that made us cancel.

But here we are. On the way to Paris. This was the trip in 2007 that made us a couple. Eighteen years later, Paris has a lot to answer for. Most of it good.

Can't say I'm not a little twitchy about traveling, for all the usual reasons and even more so for all the new ones. But it will be fabulous, and when we get back, I'll be sure to share a ton of photos.

And because I'm that person, I'm also taking a copy of French Lessons with me, so I can photograph it in all the places the story took place.

No post next week - that's the day we're coming home, but I'll try to pop in before the following Wednesday with some lovely Parisian photos.

So Pretty

Or maybe it's about the food

Okay, so maybe it's not ALL about the food, but for me, in Paris, it's close.

We've been 3 times now, and it's always like that. In 2007, for our first trip, we dumb-lucked into 2 fantastic restaurants that we've returned to on each trip. More on that as we go along here.

Friday morning, we woke up pretty well rested from our jet lag. We each had something we wanted to do in Montmartre - I, of course, had to make a pilgrimage to Reine and stroke the expensive fabrics, and Mario, a big comic art/graphic novel fan, had 2 galleries he wanted to visit that specialized in his favorite thing. We went first to the fabric district, where my feelings were hurt by the drastic price increases (though I did buy 2 pieces of fabric at one of the remnant or "coupon" stores). Then we had a lovely lunch at a restaurant recommended by a friend, and then we walked to the galleries.

From there, we walked back to our hotel, which meant we walked from the tippy-top of Montmartre, down through central Paris, across the bridge, across the Ile, across the next bridge and through the Jardins de Luxembourg to get back to our hotel by late afternoon.

We had ourselves a well deserved rest after our hike, then meandered out in the evening back to our first favorite restaurant, Au Chien qui Fume (the Smoking Dog). I had salmon quenelles in a shellfish sauce, rabbit with mustard and a potato gratin, and a glazed apple tart with vanilla sauce and fresh whipped cream. And wine, of course.

Most of the photos here are from various street markets we encountered during our wanderings around the city. It seems like we found one every day, and it really began to make me crazy that I was trapped in a city with all this glorious food and no kitchen to cook it in. A basket of fresh porcini mushrooms is enough to make me twitch, but unlike when we went to Florence, I couldn't find any dried ones at the markets to bring home. Waaaah.

On Saturday, we got up extra early to go to the flea market near the Porte de Vanves metro stop. The weather forecast had been for days in the mid-60s, nights in the mid-40s, but that Saturday it wasn't anywhere near mid-40. Even layered up, we were cold and miserable. And the price increases had struck the flea market as well, so we were cold, miserable, and thwarted by the European financial crisis. Vintage buttons for 5 euro apiece?? Really?? Who's buying them?

We stopped at a vendor cart had double espressos and crepes to warm up. It worked for a little while, but my happiest moment at the market was finding a woman who was selling scarves for 3 euro. We each bought one, and felt much better. Though I have to say I feel a little like a Jane Austen heroine - I took a chill, and spent the rest of the week, the flight home and the week after, coughing like a consumptive.

Saturday night we went to dinner at a seafood restaurant that called to us. I had fish soup with a spicy rouille and croutons, and a bucket of mussels. And I mean a bucket. They had to bring me a second bowl for all the shells, it was ridiculous. Mario finished his skate and helped me down the last of the mussels because I was running out of room. Though I did have room for the 3 scoop sorbet/glace dessert - flavors were yogurt (yogurt-flavored ice cream.  Really), blood orange and lavender. Sounds strange, but yum!

Sunday was the day that didn't work properly. We tried to go to the Beauborg, and the lines were over an hour long by 9:00 a.m. We decided we didn't want to see their art that badly when there's so much more to be had. We walked up to Les Halles, to get in from the chill at the galleries and shopping area there, and found most of it under renovation. There is apparently no shortage of construction work in Paris; many, many buildings were surrounded by green construction barricades.

We walked back through the Marais, picked up lunch, and then went to the Musee de Mode du Textiles (the fashion museum attached to the Louvre). Their main exhibit was Hussein Chalayan. I wasn't thrilled - for me, sometimes when a designer has too many points he's trying to make (political or whatever they may be), the fashion gets lost. Mario thought he did great installations, but he wouldn't have known it was a fashion exhibit if I hadn't said so. 

By this time, it was later in the afternoon and we were starting to fade a little. But since we were already halfway down Rue de Rivoli, Mario suggested we walk the rest of the way down and go to L'Orangerie, to see their collection of Monet's waterlilies. Since I dragged him through the Cluny Museum on Friday morning to visit the Unicorn tapestries, I thought that was only fair. And it's not like I didn't want to see them; I was just flagging a bit.

Great art has restorative powers, however. Once we got inside the museum and into the stark white oval rooms wrapped in waterlilies (has anybody seen Midnight in Paris?) I forgot that my feet hurt and I wanted my pre-dinner nap. We circled around looking at paintings until they kicked us out at 6:00, and then we went back to put our feet up for a while.

We tried to go to Allard, our other favorite restaurant, but by the time we got there at 8:30 (okay, we put our feet up for QUITE a while), they were packed. Happy hour in Paris is from 7:00 to 9:00, not the American 5:00 - 7:00, so they were really just getting started. We made a reservation for Monday night, our last night, and walked back up the block and found a perfectly acceptable backup restaurant. By that point we were both wolfishly hungry and Allard's spectacular dinner might have been wasted on us anyway.

On our last day, we really had no specific plans. We walked a lot that day. The weather had warmed up and we just wanted to spend the last day looking at the city.

We realized over lunch that we'd bought no gifts, so we stopped at a shop and bought macarons for family and friends. They were supposed to be refrigerated, but we thought between spending the night out on the cool balcony and then being on the plane, they'd survive (and they mostly did, only a little bit squashed - and they still tasted good).

Yes, he's coated in chocolate!

After bringing our macarons back to the hotel, we rested and then walked back to Allard for dinner. Last meal in Paris: pate de maison, cassoulet and a chocolate charlotte that was absolutely obscenely good. Mario had escargot, boeuf bourguignon and the chocolate charlotte. We split a bottle of burgundy and drifted back to the hotel in a happy haze of wine and way too much good food.

And that, dear readers, was our trip to Paris. I'll post separate photos from the Orangerie; the waterlilies really do need to be seen to be believed - there's something about the scale and the size of those rooms, built to accommodate them, that made them even more impressive than I'd expected.

Pick a color, any color



At the Porte de Vanves flea market, Paris

 

 I didn't know I wanted a turquoise sewing machine, but I do.

It's all about the clothes

So of course there's more to visiting Paris than the clothes, but seeing who I am and what I do, I do tend to pay attention. A lot.

What I saw quite a bit of on the streets:

Capes, surprisingly.  The cute short ones that BWOF has been showing.  I didn't think much of them in the magazine, but seeing them on real women, moving around, I liked them.

Shorts - everything from Daisy Dukes with fishnets (on the twentysomethings on a Saturday night) to dressy wool shorts that end with a button-tab and cuff just above the knee.

Ankle boots - with pants, skirts of all lengths, and the above-mentioned dress shorts. 

As far as specific trends for women, it seems anything goes, but particularly extremes - skirts either to the ankles or barely below your underwear.  Pants skinny to the ankle or billowing wider than hip-width. 

Men wearing more - and brighter - colors than the women. As in I lost count of how many men I saw wearing red corduroy trousers. Or orange. Or yellow. Or green. It wasn't a trend Mario took to, thankfully, though he tends to notice how much sharper European men dress than American men.

And then, of course, there are the store windows.  These were my favorites.  The color-blocked dress above is going to be coming out of my workroom sooner rather than later.  Isn't it fabulous?  I might change it from tan and black to something-more-flattering-on-me and black, or I might not.  Need to see what's in the stash that will work. 


The second dress reminds me of something from one of the Japanese pattern magazines - there's a bit of origami in there somewhere, and I love it.  I don't know a lot of people who really look good in these types of garments, but I love looking at them.  The color didn't come up well (night photography with glass in between) but it's a very pale pearl gray, just a shade or two darker than the mannequin.

Look at this coat.  The first thing that caught my eye, of course, was the fur down both sleeves.  Then I actually looked at the sleeves, and the very strong shoulder that's supporting all that fur.  It wasn't until I got home that I noticed some of the finer details - the darts on the front are sewn to the outside, for example.  And it's princess-seamed.  And double-breasted.  With a lovely collar, outsized buttons and uber-outsized cargo pockets.  It's a lot of look, and one of my favorites.

I love plaid.  I love lace.  I apparently love plaid dresses appliqued with lace, even in somewhat odd places for applique.  And I wish I could have gotten a better angle so I could see what was up with those sleeves!

The black and gray outfit on the left didn't do as much for me, but it was YSL's store window, and I was in Paris, and isn't every sewist worth her thread supposed to stop and genuflect in front of YSL's store window?  There was a Christian Lacroix store right down the street, under construction.  If his windows had been filled with clothes, there would have been kneeling in worship involved.  And possibly drool on my chin.


The next dress just attracted me because of the colors, the print, the overall . . . something of it.  So many of the pieces I fall for are for the fabrics, rather than the cut; it's a weakness of mine, and one I had pointed out recently watching the lame finale of this lame season of Project Runway.  A beautiful print does not make for a great dress, nor does knowing how to use a beautiful print make for a great designer.  I need to learn to work with more solids.

The last photo, the coat, was taken at L'Orangerie, while ostensibly looking at Monet's waterlilies.  And I was looking at them, I just walked in behind this woman and her coat kept distracting me, so I finally got a photo of it while (ostensibly) taking a photo of the waterlilies.


Another thing that really gets me is patchwork or working with multiple prints.  I remember a few pieces like this coat from Florence 2 years ago.  Apparently the trend either hasn't gone away or she's taken very good care of this coat. 
You can't tell too well from the photo, but most of the coat is made up from multiple layers of multiple fabrics.  The large face on the upper back had a layer of black net or gauze over it; several of the lower pieces, in black, were overlaid with layers of black lace.  It didn't change the color much, obviously, but it added a lot of depth to the coat while walking behind it and mentally taking notes.

So these are my fashion highlights.  I wish there were more, but I was actually trying not to take as many photos this trip.  We've been several times now, so I don't need to take photos of the major sights anymore, and I get a little tired of trying not to look like I'm stalking someone who's wearing something that interests me.

Of course, when we were walking along the Seine and there was a woman several yards in front of us, wearing an absolutely phenomenal skirt made of at least 4 coordinating fabrics with bias-cut ruffles in leopard print, my camera battery crapped out and I missed her entirely.

It snowed on Saturday, shooting my weekend plans somewhat in the foot, so I finally renewed my acquaintance with my sewing machine.  The plaid jacket is still under construction; I decided to ease my way back in with something simple, and made myself a pair of annoyingly loud striped pajamas because it's cold in the house and I refuse to turn the heat on this early in the season.  Thanksgiving is my usual start date - something to be thankful for, is how I think of it.  In the meantime, a little cold builds character.  And justifies the construction of fuzzy new pajamas.

There's no place like home

Do you ever feel, when you walk through the automatic doors at the airport, that you're entering someplace akin to the Twilight Zone?  A place where time as you know it has no meaning, where things are going to occur in their own time - airport time - and you have no choice but to surrender and go with the flow, wherever you're bound, and hope that you get there?

That's me with airports, anyway.  This trip included, though it could have been worse.  I have to thank several very nice blonde ladies who work for Delta Airlines for making the experience as tolerable as it was.

We left for the airport on time, even though we discovered that the flight would be delayed. What if it got undelayed and we weren't there?  Trying to print our boarding passes at the kiosk, we got a message that there was a problem and to go to the desk to talk to a real, live human.

Our flight, it turned out, had been canceled and we were being re-routed through Atlanta. We get our new boarding passes and find the gate.  There's an Atlanta flight leaving in an hour on the board, but it's not the flight number on our passes.  I ask the nice blonde lady, and she says there are 2 flights to Atlanta, both delayed, and we're on the second one.  Which might or might not connect with the Paris flight.

WTF?  I take a deep breath and do not scream.  Instead, I tear up.  "We're on our honeymoon," I said.  "We can't spend the night in an airport."  She puts us on standby for the first flight, but says not to get my hopes up. 

An hour later, when they start boarding, I hear my name called.  There were 3 standby seats on the flight, and we got 2 of them.  I resist hugging the nice blonde lady, especially when she says that there's no way  the people on the second flight will make it to Paris - and because it's a weather delay, the airline isn't responsible for putting them up at a hotel.

We fly to Atlanta, seated separately, and another nice blonde Delta lady stows our bags in the staff area because after we get on the plane they ran out of overhead space.  I chat all the way there with the woman seated beside me, who sews, grows her own vegetables and is dying to get chickens.  My people are everywhere, I tell you.

Atlanta's airport makes Philadelphia International look tired and shabby.  Which it is.  We get yet another pair of boarding passes (keeping count?) because our seats need to be changed from the ones we got in Philly.  Since the second plane wouldn't get in on time, we were going to have to spread out on the plane to balance the load - we were flying at 1/3 full! 

All this led to us getting into Paris about 3 hours later than expected, but considering the alternative - a night in the Atlanta airport - 3 hours was fine by me.  We checked into our hotel on the edge of the Jardin de Luxembourg, and meandered around the neighborhood before going off in search of food.  We ended up on the Quai des Augustins, along the river, at the Bistro des Augustins, having several glasses of wine and a creamy, cheesy gratin and a basket of bread. 

What airport?  What frustration?  Give me wine and sufficient dairy products and I can forget almost anything.

And a little Tina Turner. When we got to the bistro, it was around 3:00 p.m. - the wasteland between lunch and dinnertime. There were no other customers, just the waiter and a few friends hanging at the bar. American music is all over Paris, and they had some good stuff going on. The highlight: when the really fast version of  Proud Mary came on, and all 3 men, very French, very white and very skinny, started dancing at the bar like Tina in her fringed dress and singing along, very loudly, to boot. None of them actually spoke English but they knew all the words.  I couldn't help but applaud.

We kept going for a while, but our policy on vacation is to try to put ourselves into the local time zone as soon as possible, go until we can't and then fall down. 

We fell down at about 8:30 p.m., woke up at 7:00 the next day to a bright blue sky and only minimal jet lag. 

Much more to come - obviously - including highlights of the clothes, the amazing food markets and our trip to the Orangerie to be surrounded by more Monet water lilies than I thought humanly possible.

Paris Bound

And I'm so excited!

I've been more than a little OCD about checking all the travel websites daily, and getting my feelings hurt daily. Roundtrip Philly to Paris has been running in the high $900s, which is appalling. I didn't want cheap - I know the days of cheap, cheap airfares are behind us - but I wanted at least a price that didn't make me gag.

The other day, I got one. Drinking my morning coffee, checked the airfares, saw Philly to Paris, roundtrip, non-stop, for $630. I had to look twice to make sure I was seeing properly, and then I clicked "buy."

Of course all this excitement will be delayed, because the belated "honeymoon" that this technically is will not happen until October, but that's all right. I'm a big believer in anticipation, and the fabulousness of going back to Paris will definitely not wear off in 8 months.

I've got a major soft spot for Paris. Aside from it being freaking Paris (and what else does it need), there's the little issue of the food, the art, the food, the wine, the food and the window shopping. Plus our first trip to Paris together in 2007 was where Mario and I definitely became a couple who would end up together, so that's best of all.

And of course, there will be Paris vacation sewing, but not for a while yet.

Paris: Fabrics (and notions)

On Monday, Trena and I went to Montmartre to go fabric shopping. We both had Reine in mind, but when we got there, it was closed. Isabelle told us later that it was Pentecost, which although it’s not even a blip on the calendar here, it’s a real live holiday in France and the stores took the day off.

Not all the shops were closed: we did find our way to Dreyfus, which was almost as good although without the cool half-size mannequins that I love at Reine. At Dreyfus, I rapidly accumulated 2 meters of brown/tan/white spotted jersey and 3 meters of dark chocolate colored lightweight cotton embroidered with tiny peachy-orange roses. Yummy! I think it wants to be the BWOF special design from April 2008, the wonderful halter dress with attached scarf.

I had promised myself I was going to stop at two cuts of fabric, so theoretically this should have been enough. But it wasn’t. I wanted Reine. I wanted Liberty print fabric – or at least the option of refusing it. When Mario considerately suggested the next day that we go back to Montmartre to make up for my sad disappointment, how could I resist? He wanted to make me happy. It wouldn't have been right to say no. So I didn't.

So . . . Reine. I made a beeline for the Liberty table, and they had a ton of stuff that I wanted. There were a few patterns I really liked but for some reason, for me Liberty has to have either a white or ivory background for it to feel right, so the fabrics with darker or brighter backgrounds just didn’t make the cut. There has to be some way to eliminate fabrics or I'd still be there, drooling on the table. They had the paisley I just used for the BWOF dress in three different colorways – so hard to resist in the rusty-orange and pink – but I ended up with these two, one with a dark orange, mossy-green, gold and ivory Art Deco-ish print (2 meters), and a blue, rust and ivory stylized floral (1.6 meters but the very cute cutter gave it to me as 1.5 meters when he saw my sad face – don’t laugh, this stuff costs 21.95 euros per yard; every fraction of an inch helps).

I can’t believe I spent that much on less than 4 yards of cotton, but I don’t regret it. I can’t wait to cut into it, I just need to cruise the pattern inventory and find something worthy.

From there, we tried a few of the other shops. There are what they call “coupon” stores – basically remnants. These stores were interesting. I don't think I really noticed them last time because the exteriors are kind of cheap-looking with tables of not-so-attractive fabrics, but inside the stores we visited were all kinds of goodies, like this gold/white/brown stripe cotton lycra shirting which is a dead ringer for the striped shirt fabric in the “Paris: Windows” entry. 3 meters, both because that's how it was cut and because there was some damage along one end and that will give me plenty to work with.

Mario was hunting enthusiastically through the bins in these stores, and by the second store, he revealed his ulterior motive: he was looking for shirting fabric that would approximate some of the men’s shirts we’d been seeing in the stores. Eventually in the third store we struck gold for both of us: for him, two fabrics: this lovely green floral striped cotton (for which he wants a plain moss green reverse for the cuffs and color band, though I'm pushing for some leftover Liberty floral from last year, and a linen blend (why does lin mélange sound better?) in dark fuchsia with striping. I love both though I could never wear the pink one, but he's dark enough to carry off vivid colors. These were each 3 yard cuts, but they don’t count against my stash totals, they weren't on my credit card, and they will eventually be moving, if not out of my house, at least out of my workroom and onto a hanger.

For myself, I found two summer weight cottons, a border-print and a heart-pattern. At 3 meters, they were only 12 euros per piece. How could I resist? As a farewell, I grabbed a 3 meter piece of brown crinkled poly taffeta with embroidery and sequins, for 22 euros. This fabric has BWOF written all over it.

On the previous Saturday, we went to the flea market at Porte de Vanves, and I indulged my button weakness at several vendors. This is the result: 6 brass antique buttons with varied animal heads. The same vendor had other metal buttons I really wanted, but one card had 10 buttons and she wanted 10 euros apiece for them, so I went for the ones I knew I could afford. Other than that, I got a card of vintage iridescent grey/silver/lavender glass buttons and 8 moss green domed buttons that are exactly what I want to match last year’s eyelet corduroy from Reine.

Fabric: 19.6 meters, $200+. Buttons: $30+. The satisfaction I will get turning my purchases into clothing: priceless.

Paris: Windows

In Paris, it’s hard not to notice clothes: on the people passing, on the mannequins in the store windows. Even the dogs are chic.

I mentioned in a previous post about the menswear stores we ran across in the Marais. Apparently Frenchmen are more fashion forward than American men (now there’s a surprise!) because the shirts in the window were like a box of Crayolas run wild. The trend is for the under-cuffs and sometimes insides of collar-bands to be in contrasting fabrics; in addition, the buttonholes and button thread are in the same contrasting color, while generally the buttons match the shirt fabric: see this fabulous black shirt with leopard-print cuffs, orange buttonholes, black buttons and orange thread. Let’s say it made an impression on someone besides me.

During our wanderings prior to meeting Trena on Monday, we ran across a few other worthy moments: this silk dress at Prada, with random ruffles everywhere. Even the sleeves don’t match. I really can’t decide if I like this dress or I hate it, but it makes a statement.


This tobacco linen jacket and vest with oversized buttons struck me because they were just impeccable. Everything is right with this outfit.


This vaguely safari-ish jacket isn’t completely me - I think the sleeve length is a little odd and definitely wouldn't be flattering - but I love the topstitching, the randomly spaced buttons and almost everything about it except . . . it. Not that I’d turn it down, mind you. But I’ll use it for inspiration rather than trying to reproduce it.


Back to menswear again: this Kenzo suit. Is this immaculate or what? Nothing else to say, just gorgeous tailoring, great fabric and beautiful lines. I’d like it in my size, please.


Akris, on the Champs Elysee, had this sheer coppery coat with stripes of darker fabric. I'm not sure what I'd wear it with, but I thought it was lovely.



Last, and certainly not least, is this shirt: gold/brown/white stripes. Stripes running vertically, horizontally and diagonally. Buttons, tabs, princess seams. Perfect fit. Lots of opportunity for immaculate topstitching. Pockets (with tabs!). Sleeves, also with tabs – not so sure about those. I want this shirt. I will have this shirt. Matter of fact, I bought the perfect fabric for this shirt the very next day.

Keep checking back, folks, because I’ve also purchased the perfect basic pattern for this shirt – McCall 4922 – and it’s winging its way to me as I write. I’ll make a quick muslin before I cut into the stripe, just to check the fit, but this shirt has rapidly moved up the list, kicking longstanding projects right out of its way. Can I argue? I don’t think so. I want that shirt. Soon.

Paris: Day 5

By this point, it was hard to ignore that we were going home soon. We had breakfast at Café Benjamin on Rue de Rivoli, a place I like for their 3 euro breakfast of coffee, croissant and orange juice as much as for their encaustic tile floor.

We had a moment of complete heat-induced stupidity when we went to the Louvre and discovered that it was closed on Tuesdays. That’s why they make guidebooks, people! Oh, well – really it was too nice a day to spend inside anyway.

We walked down through the Tuileries and along the Champs Elysees until we came to the Arc de Triomphe, which neither of us visited last time. It was an adventure trying to figure out how to actually get to it – there’s an underground stairway that we didn’t see at first – and then when we got to the center, it’s just enormous. I was glad I’d photographed it from across the street, because it all wouldn’t fit in the lens once we were close up.

Once we were done there, Mario looked at the metro map and pointed out that the metro line we would have to take ran straight up to Anvers, and wasn’t it a shame that I’d been deprived of going to Reine the day before. Honestly, the man just gets better and better! Off to Montmartre we went again, and this time I didn’t hold back. Two cuts of Liberty cotton at Reine, and permission from the saleswoman to take ONE photograph of the mannequins. Of course someone jostled me and I wasn’t allowed to take a second one. One photo meant one photo. So, a blurry picture of a mannequin wearing a really fabulous red satin gown.

There are other stores there called “coupon” stores. Coupon apparently means remnant, and those stores were treasure troves if you’re willing to dig. I. Am. Willing. To. Dig. I found two wonderful summer cottons, 3 meter cuts for 12 euros each, and a brown crinkled taffeta with embroidery and sequins that is just calling out to be made into something excessive from BWOF.
An ulterior motive was revealed when Mario found a green striped/floral shirting fabric that was a really good approximation of some of the shirts he’d been admiring. Three meters for 18 euros, and I can do the contrasting bits with last year’s Liberty lawn, which will work really well, or a solid green if he objects to the pattern. (Fabric photos to come, I promise!)

We stopped at a café near the metro stop for lunch and got to experience something I didn’t know existed anymore – one of those Turkish toilets that’s basically just two footrests and a hole in the floor. Interesting. Almost sorry I didn’t have my camera, but not quite.

After resting up a bit and coming to the shameful realization that I’d acquired something like 20 meters of fabric in two days, we headed out for our final dinner. Allard, on Rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts, was our favorite restaurant last year, and we decided to go back. We got there at about 8:30 p.m., and while it wasn’t packed, it was pretty crowded. Without a reservation we got put into the less attractive, still very nice back dining room. There was a Canadian couple at the next table and we compared vacation experiences and admired each others’ food – they got the roast chicken with mushrooms and we got the roast duck with olives, both highly recommended.

The duck took up so much space that we passed on dessert at the restaurant and took another walk instead. Even though it was almost 10:00 p.m., we managed to catch a great sunset as we crossed the bridge. That inspired us to walk back to Berthillon for a final sorbet – pomme vert (green apple) and groseille (red currant). Yum.

Packing took some time. The wine got wrapped securely in my dirty laundry to be checked at the airport. The fabric and the few ceramic bits I picked up at the flea market took up my entire carry-on bag, which I only brought on the off-chance I bought anything.

How do you say, “I’ve been a bad, bad girl?” in French?

Paris: Day 4

This was one of the days I looked forward to the most – getting to meet sewing friends, both real and virtual – in Paris. I already had plans with Trena to meet at Notre Dame at 1:00 p.m., and when I got up in the morning, I called Isabelle to confirm that she would meet us at 5:00 p.m.

After breakfast at the Fontaine de Sully across the street, we spent the morning aimlessly wandering the streets, one of my favorite activities. I saw a lot of intriguing things in store windows (separate post about that later), but most of the stores weren’t open so I couldn’t try things on. Just as well – I’d rather make it than buy it, even in Paris.

Trena was right where she said she’d be, and after meeting her friends and sending them off to Berthillon, she and Mario and I had lunch. Then she and I took the metro up to Anvers to Sacre Coeur and the fabric stores, where we weresurprised to discover that Reine was closed! So were a lot of the other shops, but we went to Dreyfus and managed to find a few things there. Women who want fabric will find it, if it exists. And sometimes even if it doesn't. After a café stop, and more conversation, we made it back to my hotel by 5:00 p.m. to meet Isabelle, who is even more petite adorable than she appears in her blog.

Isabelle explained to us that the reason the fabric stores were closed was because it was Pentecost. I knew something was up – the vestments on the priest at the local church had changed from red to green, and even to non-Catholic that’s a head-up of something big – but my loveable lapsed Catholic couldn’t remember what it meant.

We walked together down toward the Bastille to Dalloyeau for pastry. It was worse than being kids in a candy store – imagine being kids in a candy store where the candy is stuff you never imagined could exist, and it was all too pretty to think about eating. Except of course we did eventually choose something, and we certainly ate it right down to the crumbs, all the while talking about sewing and our lives and all the fun things you find to talk about with people you know without ever having met before (or in Trena’s case, twice briefly at PR Weekends, but this was our longest conversation). We had a handsome waiter take our picture sitting outside.

By 6:30 p.m. we split up, Isabelle to go back to her dissertation, Trena to do some food shopping – lucky woman has an apartment with a kitchen! – and me to collect Mario and discuss where we would have dinner later.

We walked over to Rue Saint-Severin to eat. The area is a little touristy, but there are some restaurants which weren’t packed with Americans and we chose one called Le Tango de Chat, which of course I liked because of the name. The meal – warm goat cheese salad and roast pork with sautéed prunes – was very good. The only giveaways that it was a restaurant aimed at tourists was the default side vegetable was French fries, though good ones, and the chocolate mousse was a little over-refrigerated. But the food was still good and it was a definite break for the budget, which was feeling a little tight and we wanted to save up a bit to treat ourselves on our last night in Paris.