One impression I had of the French was that the women always dressed tres elegante. I felt inferior packing Tevas and a bright blue gap tee, knowing I’d not stand a chance fashion-wise against those slim women in their black and heels.
On the contrary, the women here dress refreshingly down to earth. The typical look is unstyled hair, little makeup, skinny jeans, and flats. The men on the other hand, ooh la la! They are the peacocks of Paris. Here’s one peacock’s feet on the metro.
Yesterday, we visited a museum, which was actually a grand mansion. The owners, a couple named Nelle and Andre, spent their lives creating the opulent home and collecting works of art which they bequeathed to the national trust. With the audio tour, I felt taken back in time, fully aware of the luxury of being able to sit and stare at art. Here’s Tasha at the museum cafe looking appropriately contemplative as we await our salad and pastries.
We saw the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, and walked the Champs de Elysee. At the end of the night, we ate dinner at a restaurant that my grandparents had eaten at 50 years before. Tasha tried pig’s head stew. Go girl.
Also, we ate gelato and the spoons for some reason glowed in the dark.
Here’s me trying to casually French.