Today was our first day back in Paris, delicious Paris, the first in 11 years. After a light breakfast, petit dejeuner, of toast, jam and cafe au lait I waited for the hotel elevator to return to our room to brush my teeth and collect my stuff for the day…Ipad, reading glasses, sunnies, lip gloss…you know the drill. And you gotta have your stuff! Anyway, the lift door opened and my eyes connected with a most exquisitely appointed Parisian young lady. In a split second I sized her up and she me. Her skin was flawless. FLAWLESS. Peaches and cream alabaster, no pores, no fine lines, no spots. Eye make-up? Less than minimal; she just looked as though she had lovely brown eyes. And her ensemble! Black from head to toe. Yves St. Laurent. Impeccable. A little sniff from her upturned nose as she looked at me told all. No, no, no, no, no!!! As I raced back to the room I thought, “Oh, hell no! Nobody’s going to make me feel like the Country Mouse!” By the time I had finished brushing my teeth I had a complete outfit transformation thought out. I changed clothes, brushed my hair, quick brush of powder and was off to take the city in! Jimmy had learned of a huge open air market which runs along the Seine for blocks, it just goes on forever, and I couldn’t wait to get there. Many of you know that every Saturday morning my dad and I go to a local farmer’s market and spend a good two to three hours checking out the new products as well as stocking up on our staples. We knew we were getting closer when we saw more and more well-heeled and well-dressed Parisians briskly walking with their little carts behind them. Once again, I was in awe.
This was farmer’s market heaven. This was a farmer’s market on good-looking steroids. What can I say? They had it all. Let me share a few of this morning’s glories!
Now that’s a farmer’s market. Merci!