In Transit

With August and my inevitable move to Paris drawing closer and closer it dawned upon me that I have yet to compile a list of all of the wonderful Parisian places I plan on (read as: have been dreaming of) visiting upon my arrival. Granted, yes I have been to Paris before, I've seen most of the sights worth seeing, I've ogled at my favorite paintings at the Louvre, I have my obligatory photograph in front of la Tour Eiffel (though it is fair to note I never actually climbed it) and I've taken my tour of Sacré-Cœur. But now that I'm for all intents and purposes, wait for it, an adult, who will be, here it comes, living in Paris on her own I'll have days innumerable to explore the city. So without further ado, here are some of the things I plan to do.

Photo by pics.for.me on Flickr

The home of the smallest, sweetest and most elegant deserts the French ever decided to bless us with, Ladurée has been on my list since I knew of Paris's existence (which, arguably, was prenatal). Just looking at the Ladurée takes my mind back to Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette, in all it's pastel divinity. Who doesn't want to feel like a rococo queen? I've digressed, yes, but what is important is that the macarons served up at the counters of Ladurée are just that wonderful - they are beautiful to look at and delicate on the pallate, though don't quote me, I'm not speaking from experience, the only French-made macarons I've ever tasted were those from Hermé, which were just as wonderful as you might assume Hermé macarons to be*.

Photo by isogood on Flickr

As someone who considers them self to be a modern day Marie Antoinette, (we've already adressed how Sofia Coppola's movie impacted my life) Versailles is pretty much mandatory. A few years back on a family trip, me and my family visited Marie's first home in Vienna, Austria - Schönbrunn Palace, but nothing can compete with the sheer opulence of Versailles. To be quite honest, I would probably sacrifice my first born child to have been a noble during the Rococo period. As is stands, I'll have to settle for retracing the steps of nobility. In my wildest pipe-dreams, I visit Versailles for the first time and ghosts come to life and dance around me like that scene in Anastasia where Anya enters the old palace looking for Dimitri.

Photos by Fabrice Fortin.

Sweat Shop is a coutre café that opened a few years ago out of need more than anything. Because there is a tailor on every street corner, it is only a rather small percentage of the Parisian population that knows how to sew at all. You can rent a sewing station by the hour if you know your way around a machine already or, there are classes that you can attend. According to HiP Paris this is the schedule:

Atelier Ouvert (2H): From beginners to the highly advanced, anyone is welcome. All you need to do is bring your supplies to fix that winter coat lining, make a dress, or copy a pair of your favorite slacks, and your professor will guide you through your project.
Atelier Enfants (2H): Put that kid to work! This introduction course teaches children how to knit, crochet and sew by hand as well as by machine. Think of how much money and time you’ll save when your little tike knows how to hem his own pants or sew back buttons that have fallen off.
Atelier Tricot (2H): Every Tuesday night Sweat Shop turns into a knitting circle during this two hour all-level class.
Atelier Custom (4H): Ripped jeans, cut-off Ts, studded leather jackets, it all sounds so easy, but think again. Customization is the subtle art of glamorous destruction. So let the Queen of customization, Vava Dudu, guide you through the death and rebirth of your favorite frocks.
Atelier Mlle Kou (7H): Mlle Kou, aka Céline Dupuy, swings by the shop once a week to give this all-day couture workshop which starts with an original pattern, is punctuated with tea and snacks prepared by Bob’s Juice Bar next door and ends with you walking away with a fabulous handmade design.

I am of course most interested in Atelier Mlle Kou, but as the owner of a beautiful vintage black and gold Singer machine who knows nothing about how to use it, I could definitely use a trip to the Atelier Ouvert as well. The gifter of said Singer, my grandmother, a fantastic seamstress her entire life would be the first to receive an item completed at Sweat Shop, though I cannot vouch for the quality of anything I'd be producing.

This may very well be the least impressive photograph on this list, but Picard Gourmet Frozen Foods is not a place to take lightly. There are very few things I enjoy more than individually (well) packaged frozen meals and Picard has elevated the concept to a level that only a Parisian company could. Allow me to make you question the TV dinner you have microwaving at this very moment. Straight from Picard's website here are some photos that can only be described as food porn and that are (gasp) actually packaged and frozen foods:

Nougat glacé framboise

12 mini-focaccias

Mille-feuille de courgettes à l'espadon

You read that right. These are frozen foods. There goes France again making every other country look like the culinary equivalents of cavemen burning a fish, scales and all, on the fire.

The Broken Arm is a concept store slash café with the simple aesthetic I crave when entering any shopping destination. They are also reputed to have a fantastic menu of small food items like soups, salads and sandwiches which I'm dying to try considering that my favorite sandwich of all time was bought for one euro outside of Sacre Cour. Let me tell you, the French know their sandwiches.

Who does deserts better than the French? Do you have any country in mind? If you do, you're wrong. The answer is no one does. Every country kneels and bows before the might of the French pastry masters. They can do no wrong, and they make everything so darn pretty. Each shop puts it own spin on French classics, and that has to be one of my favorite things about Paris. L’Éclair de Génie on Rue Pavée in one such establishment bent on bringing the eclair to the now sky-scraping heights of the macaron. I cannot vouch for taste, though Carin Olsson at HiP Paris sure can, but the beauty of these deserts should be taken into account at least somewhere near the amount taste is. Not to worry, though, I will make sure I am somewhat of an expert on the subject within days of landing in Paris. Something that pretty is just begging to be eaten.

The words "vegetarian" and "French cuisine" don't really seem to go hand in hand, but Cafe Pinson seems to be trying to change that. With all the hippie dippy vials of oils for sale as your local vegetarian restaurant, Pinson still manages to look elegant, a feat only a French café could pull off. A recently recovered vegetarian, the idea of a veggie restaurant in Paris with good food appeals to me the way higschool nostalgically appeals to band geeks who hated the experience when they were going through it but in their later years have romanticized it. That is to say, Cafe Pinson aside, I'm not going back.

I shouldn't even have to explain this one, but cheap wine by the class and snacks involving duck prosciutto in a place who's art deco decor includes shelves of books on the walls? Josephine sounds like me if I my personality was a bar. Which it might very well be.

Shakespeare and Co. is on of my favorite places in the entire world. It has the feel of a shop that has been in the same place for centuries and is stacked wall to wall in books. It is also one of the few places in France with a large selection of English books. Most of all it's a place you go if you are a writer and you wish to, for the moment, truly feel like you're a writer. There is an ancient typewriter upstairs that you can borrow to type out something that just needs to be typed out on a typewriter and the staff are people who truly love the written word. I cannot promote this place enough. If there is a heaven, it is a corner of this bookstore, of that I am sure.

Though there are so many places I plan on visiting upon arrival to France (many of them listed here among HiP Paris's wine bar list) I'll have to cut this entry short before it delves into rambling about my deep desire to drink copious amounts of wine and pretend I'm in a Hemingway novel. Because really, anything in Paris leads back to that, doesn't it? Until next time!