What's Happening this Weekend?

What's Going On This Weekend?
29 March, 2013
As always there are the brochantes. A brochante is a flea market, not to be confused with the more appreciated Vide Greniere, which seem to be more popular in rural areas. A brochante features mostly professional traders, selling anything from handmade jewelry, vintage clothing, antiques, furniture and trinkets. While I appreciate the brochante, I like to discover real treasures, the things from the attic, so to speak. Previously privately held personal items and treasures.

My favorite brochante in Paris, however, is the one held at Porte Vavnes, down in the 14th and easily accessible by M13. Once arriving at the corner, just following the people with their little rolly carts! It goes on every weekend of the year, rain or shine.

This is an enchanting Marche au Puce, or brochante, as the traders are still professional, but their overheads are lower, hence the prices are much more negotiable. Don't be afraid to bargain and haggle, it's tradition! Offer a fair price and be firm, confident and polite! Keep a look out for the sellers with crates and boxes lined up filled with glorious junk. For a euro you can get a sweet dish or teapot, or random bit of housewares or kitchen gear.

This weekend there is a professional Brochante at Pont Alexandre along the Siene. It will have the professional market traders with fine, more upscale goodies, but since it's been a long, cold winter (with no end in sight, oh my!!) the traders should have plenty of fresh stock, so it's a great opportunity.

I suggest a little walk along the Seine over to La Dauphine at 237 Boulevard Saint Germain - 75007 afterwards for a lovely cheeseburger or pasta. While not an imaginative menu, the service is great, it's very relaxing and offers a respite from the usual tourists. Get a cold beer and a burger & frites and relax!

In the Kitchen

I can be very pragmatic. I like things to be just 'so', for the most part. I have serious issues about closet organization and hangers, all clothing on hangers must face left. I like silverware drawers to be perfect organized in a single, good quality set, no plastic, please! I bought one set of lovely every-day silverware nearly 20 years ago for just under 100 bucks and it's still in as-new condition. Taking care of your things mean they will last forever. When you set out to furnish your home, there are things that are disposable and have a limited time on this planet, and other things are meant to be cared for and looked after. If you buy something that is expensive and of good quality, you should only ever buy it just once. That way, you can shift all that saved money into other purchases.

La Crueset is a fine example of buying something once. To backtrack a bit, I am what My Darling Daughter calls a 'thrifter'. Since childhood I have had a penchant for thrift stores, antique shops and yard sailing. Blessed with a keen eye for top quality, this penchant has enabled me to acquire some very fine things over the years. My favorite example is a gorgeous, classic huge orange La Crueset pot, with the handles forged in, not the plastic attached bits. I found this gem nearly 20 years ago for 10 bucks at a yard sale. It's blessed me with hundreds of onion soups, roasted pork, chicken soups, boeuf bourgignons and so on. It looks as good today as the day I bought it, because I clean it thoroughly and keep it in "as-new' condition. No char marks, no build of of grease, no grunge in the crevices. Learn what the good brands are, and when to spot a real deal.

I love to cook, to having the right tool for the right job is important to me. I like the efficiency and ease that it brings to life and to the art of cooking. I don't waste money on miscellaneous appliances, when what I have in the kitchen can do the job. Kitchen essentials include a good stock pot and a chef-quality large stainless steel sauce pan. A lightweight steel pot for pasta is important since lugging out the La Crueset just to boil water is a lot of work! Smaller good quality pots with handles are essential, and a set of teflon pans for various quick meals is good. A steel dutch oven is great for covered roasting; nesting roasting pans in sizes is really helpful. There is no lack of gorgeous heavy oval and rectangle ceramic roasting dishes at virtually any yard sale or thrift shop in France, most with gorgeous patinas and glazes that look great on the table. They can be bought for pennies and last for years.

Knives are really important. I nearly disowned My Darling Daughter for doing something horrid to one of my favorite knives. I'd left it at her house after the holidays and discovered it sitting in her kitchen drawer with chips in the edge, the point broken off and with rust spots. I didn't speak to her for nearly a week. But that being said, it's a fine knife that holds its edge, so I shall take it to the knife guy to have him grind out the nicks and re-hone the point. Investing another 5 bucks into a 60 buck knife that I've had for more than 10 years is worth the teeny investment and the pleasure I get in using it. It's got great weight and is well balanced and with good honing, slices razor thin.

The ceramic knives that are all the rage are pointless, so to speak. They are fragile and stain easily and don't stand up to the test of time, especially in the larger sizes. The small 4 inch blades are nice if you pay less than 5 bucks, because no matter what, it's going to break and you'll have to toss it out. A fine steel knife for the same price as the large ceramic ones will last a lifetime without shattering at the drop of a hat.

A vegetable peeler is one example of a kitchen item that really doesn't much matter. Get the classic one with the open blade for 2 bucks at the market and when it's dull, toss it out and buy another one.

I have an issue with cutting boards that may get me into trouble. I know, I know, all the trendy kitchen moms think that a huge, heavy wooden cutting board is the mark of a fine chef and master in the kitchen, but... but... no. A huge, monolithic slab of wood is a complete waste of time, space and sanitation. Aside from the huge amount of space it takes up, it's horrifically unsanitary. In a time when mass produced food is causing mass produced gastro-intestinal problems, the last thing you want in your kitchen is a wooden cutting board. You shouldn't ever, ever put raw meat on a wooden surface, as cross contamination is a serious threat. Plastic is definitely the only way to go, and cleans up instantly with hot soapy water and a good rinse. It stores out of sight and only costs a few cents. I love the cutting boards from Ikea, in all their colors. Cheap as can be, easy to clean up, and no possibility of cross contamination. When they wear out, toss them out and buy new ones.

Silicone in the kitchen may actually be a blessing from the gods. When silicone goods first appeared on the market they were very costly and hard to find. Now they are available everywhere in fun colors at good prices. I like the silicone spatulas the best, for their easy clean up. Try to avoid the plastic handles as they break easily, metal is the best. The silicone whisks are interesting, but you can't get quite the rise as you do with metal, but it's all about your own personal needs in the kitchen. I do avoid the silicone molds as they don't release as promised and you're always left with something stuck in the mold and not on your cake.

The Art of Living Well

Coats. Sometimes, it's all about coats. I like coats, I have far, far too many, yet, oddly, never enough. I leave the house several times a day for various work and errands. And it seems like I can never wear the same coat twice in a row. It may be a habit from childhood, obsessed as I was with never wearing the same outfit twice in a week. Or maybe I just like looking good.

Coats, jackets, blazers, sweaters, denim, silk, raincoats, wool coats, fur coats, it's never enough. A coat can make you elegant when you are wearing stretch pants, they cover up the sins underneath! Add a good quality scarf and it's a complete ensemble, no one is any the wiser!

If one lives in a city with seasons, you just can't have too many coats, and they don't have to be expensive. The point is to buy well, buy good quality, the very best possible in fact, and to buy classic or avante garde. The best 50 euros I ever spent was on an H & M black trench coat. I've had it just over a year, got it pre-season, and barely a week outside of summer has gone by when I haven't worn it. I've had it drycleaned several times, but it really stands the test of weather, time and functionality. My second favorite cold weather coat is one that I got at Harrods on a serious splash out. It's black of course and meant to be a rain coat, I suppose, but it's very, very long. I've had it for about 9 years now, at least, and it cost about 300 euros, I think. Lined in satin, it's down to the ankle and very full, so I tend to cinch it in with a nice wide belt. It's been all over the world in all sorts of weather. It was my life saver on a trip in winter to Beijing, I layered up underneath and was warm as could be. It's very elegant flapping around the knees and ankles, quite dramatic.

Since I've been in Paris I have discovered Guarrisol, a killer 2nd hand clothing shop. There is a real art to buying in the 2nd hand shops. I've bought and sold hundreds and hundreds of pieces for over 30 years, from all over the world. From a collection of brightly colored 40's wool coats that I found in Chicago for 2 bucks each, that I later sold for between 25 & 30 bucks, to a really cool London Opera Costume coat I found in Brussels for 5 euros, I make a killing in coats, it seems. This summer I found an exquisite Italian silver, down filled puffy coat, perfect for Christmas! It's brand new, never worn, still had the tags on. I quickly found that similar models from the mark sell new for over 1200 euros, I got it for 15 bucks. I also scored several gorgeous fake fur coats this Fall as well. The secret is first the quality, then wear and tear. If it's a cheap label, Primark, H & M, just don't even bother. Why pay for 2nd hand garbage that's only meant to last a single season when it's already been worn? Ew! Buy the best labels you can find, in classic styles, contemporary colors, and they can last you for years. This past summer I also found Hugo Boss & Prada & Antonelle trousers, all for 3 bucks.

Jeans just plain piss me off. What is it with people buying jeans that look like crap? And why on earth are girls still going around with muffin top and ankle cut jeans? It makes me crazy. It's not that hard to dress well, even in you're on a super tight budget. Never ever buy jeans without trying them on, and look for jeans that don't flatten out your ass and avoid those nasty things that have those tacky bleached out spots. For that matter, try to avoid jeans if at all possible unless it's the weekend and you're not still in school. At least now the trends are to jeans in colored denims, finally, thank goodness.

As far as buying second hand clothes, yes, the coats in particular will often have the Eu du 2eme, but a good airing out, a trip to the dry cleaner and/or a good dousing with Febreeze will take care of that. Look for top condition, or in the very least minimal damage that can be quickly and easily repaired if you're good with a needle.Check the pockets, the lining, the armpits, the collars and the edges, and frankly, if it's not perfect, take a pass, it's just not worth it. You would be rather shocked at the top quality stuff that is out there, if you have the patience.

I never leave the house without a scarf. Rather like a pedicure, don't leave home without it.

Paris & Whiskey

Another night in Paris, oh what fun it is! Truthfully, most of my evenings are spent cuddled up with my heatilator bunny nuzzled up against an aching ankle, hand or back, surfing the intertubes, but as I make friends & meet people, I am going out more and more, TFG.

I met up with American George on the Champs Elysee to tour the holiday lights, but he needed a drink, so a quick yee hah at the lights and we went directly to Market, at 15 Rue Matignon. They had some lovely bourbons at the bar and that was greatly appreciated. I miss whiskey, it's not easy to enjoy in Paris or Europe for that matter, but I was a great afficianado back in the States. I had many memorable evenings enjoying good bourbon, always straight double with an ice water back. I couldn't stand American beer, the standby beverage in most bars, and when I discovered Belgian beer, I learned what real beer is all about, finally. I totally get it, the connoiseurs raging about Trappist Belgian beers made by monks. I haven't yet found a Belgian beer I don't like, even the cheap, .63c by the can stuff, Leffe. And I found I can get good beer, really cheap in the Chinatown area, and rarely pass up Tsing Tao, since it's so cheap. It's nice to keep a can or two in the fridge for those hot August in Paris days (and nights)! Don't get me wrong, I love wine; my motto is, never buy cheap French wine and never pass up cheap Italian wine. The French get it right with their expensive wines, that's an absolute, irrefutable truth. But their cheap wines are horrendous. Just don't do it. However, cheap Italian wines are sheer bliss! My favorite is Pinot Grigio from Venezia. When I was living in Cannes, I'd drive up to San Remo and buy cases of it for less than a Euro per bottle. I love that stuff!

Before I moved to Europe, I took a quick trip to Venice with Doctor Heather. We found a deal we couldn't pass up, something like 500 bucks for round trip airfare and hotel, LA to Venice for 4 nights, just after Mardi Gras. I also happened to score tickets to the newly re-opened Fenice, truly one of the grandest opera halls in the world. It was a presentation of Mozart's first opera, written when he was 12.

Word of advice, never eat the veal on Air France. By the time we were crossing the Atlantic, I was quietly barfing every few minutes into a very elegant bag kindly provided by the airlines. Doctor Heather said I was the most discrete barfer she's ever known, and once again, she played Doctor as best she could. As Shrek says, better out than in, and the upside was that the air crew got us off the plane first and headed to the infirmery. We had a connection to make, and by gum, we made it and got to Venice in the early evening. We stayed in a stunning little hotel  near the Grand Canal and quite close to the big Piazza bus terminal, where we found a great little restaurant for the locals, and I even had a delicious chicken soup, restoring me to health and vigor very quickly.

It was so magical, that first night, even with some residual pains, but we were in Venice, in the middle of winter, in February. The cobbled streets were adrift with light snow fall mixed with sparkling confetti, We spent hours that night wandering those empty streets and canals, it was so quiet and the fairy dust was everywhere...

The next night was our Opera night and we went to the Fenice, only to find that the spectacle had been moved to another Opera house! So we raced through the streets with another couple, in our heels, long coats, gloves and scarves, twisting and turning through alleys and narrow passages following and trusting our new companions, to the other Opera house. I was really disappointed that it wasn't the Fenice, that was the point after all, so we enjoyed it for an hour and left to find dinner at about 10:30pm. I don't remember much about the meal, but I do remember the wine! Served by the pitcher, that house red was the most delicious red wine I'd ever, ever indulged in, so completely different from anything I'd experienced in the states. It changed everything for me, from then on in my little wine world. Since then, in my expert analysis and research, my Wine Rule has proven itself time and again. Never drink cheap French wine and always drink cheap Italian wine. Works every time.

If you know nothing about wine, just stick to that rule, you'll be fine.

Right, so dinner at Market, 15 Rue Matignon, Paris, just off the Champs Elysee. Lovely place. Modern, sleek, dark, beautiful room, discrete, quiet, very good service. The bread girl was very nice.  I had a killer calamari starter with a horse radish sauce, one of the best I've had in France. I had a pork chop glazed with something or other, and that thing was like a dinosaur bone. The French style of meat leaves a lot to be desired. Usually they remove any trace of fat or just avoid it altogether, and I think that's just wrong. Pork and beef need their fat, and I refuse to back away from that assertion. This was just a wad of meat on a stick, the bone as it were. It wasn't overcooked for what it was, it was perfectly cooked and not too dry, but it had no flavor and it just wasn't interesting. Not like the onglet of beef I'd had the day before out in Versailles.

We finished the meal with their cheesecake, which again, left a lot to be desired. It was nicely presented, but boring. A bit too gummy, and the sweet croustelant it  was sat upon was a bit rancid. It came with a portion of pretty red berries in a sauce, presented in a wrapped wafer cup, but it was too gummy and thick to be really enjoyed. Reason number 10,324 of 'why I learned how to cook'. Because I can make it better at home and make myself really, really happy. And yeah, I could definitely turn out a far better pork chop and cheesecake than Market did, that's for sure. Someday I'll tell you about my baby back ribs recipe.

If you ever want to make the very best cheesecake on the planet, simply google Cheesecake Factory copycat recipes. Honestly, yeah, it sounds cheesy, but they are the best, you can't go wrong. I tweak the flavors a bit for the base and say for lemon or lime, etc, but the technique, portions and methods are spot on and if you follow the recipes exactly, you will be very pleased!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas! I like spending Christmas holidays in beautiful places, including my own home of course. Fair enough, I just really like Christmas. Not so much when I was growing up, but as an adult I made the conscious choice to make my life exactly what I wanted it to be, instead of relying on others, therefore, I make Christmas MAGIC. And no other city on the planet does Christmas Magic better than Paris!

The lights, the glitter, the pomp, the markets, the delicious windows, the amazing food stalls on the Champs Elysee even in the rain like tonight, there is still a bit of magic in the air, it's the 1st of December, just 24 more days, yay!

Christmas is for kids, that's for sure, but these Parisians make it about family. I can't explain why, but it's just so much more elegant here! Suddenly, beautiful boughs of pine branches magically appear above shop doors and facades. I haven't yet seen a single string lit faux reindeer or a plastic Santa hung from a window, instead, beautiful lights, silver glitter balls, red or silver bows, it's lovely!

My last favorite Christmas was spent in Paris with my dear friend Doctor Heather from Los Angeles. It was the one holiday we spent together where I wasn't walking wounded or sick, and it was great for us to experience Paris together with the Kidlet. Meringues were involved. I haven't dared yet send her a photo of the new shop on Rue St. Dominique that has mountains of meringues in the street corner window. She'd be camped outside licking that window I think, along with the other tourists and children. It won't be one of her finest moments, but I know she'll be happy, that's all that matters.

A number of years ago Kidlet and I spent Christmas in Playa del Carmen, Mexico, in the Yucatan. We took along our Romanian Friend Ioana, aka, Iggie. Not a dignified title for a teaching Professor of Film at USC (she blames me for helping make that happen, cheerfully accepted), but a moniker of love and affection, nonetheless.

At the time Playa del Carmen was still a bit rustic, such a sweet little city, bursting with promise and great food, safe as kittens. Our favorite restaurant was 3 blocks away on the corner from the hotel. Open air, seating under the palapas at picnic tables, a grill in the front, and lots and lots of beer. Mucho Cerveza! My favorite menu item was the Grande Pescado, this HUGE whole fish, gutted fresh and tossed on the grill, cooked 5 feet away from you, served with buckets of guacamole and chips. Behind this restaurant we could see festive lights at night, and we went to have a look and found a nativity scene made by the locals, in the same tradition as what I now know as a Creche, as in, yes, (thump head) a nativity scene. I never have fathomed these Christian rituals, the logic of the stories just escapes me, always has, being kicked out of virtually every non catholic Sunday school in my small village by the age of 6 for asking too many of the wrong sorts of questions. A sceptic and and cynic at such a tender age afforded my mother even more reasons to not like me very much, the poor thing. We weren't allowed in the Catholic church at all, banned at the door, apparently.

So we appreciated this sweet, rustic home-made nativity scene, but the baby Jesus was missing, even I knew there was supposed to be one in there. We figured someone stole it or they didn't have money for it. We weren't worried, just baffled. The devil is in the details.

So every time we walked past the nativity scene, we'd stop by to see if they'd found the baby Jesus, and after 3 days of this, we were starting to get worried. It just didn't seem right. We may have discussed buying one, but none were to be had amidst the sombreros and hammocks, well intentioned as we were.

Christmas morning arrived and in our daily stroll to find breakfast, we made our pilgrimage to the creche, and lo and behold, there was the baby Jesus, nearly 5 times bigger than all the other figures in the scene, and with this HUGE head!  He immediately became dubbed 'Hydroencephalitic Baby Jesus'. All I need to do to get a huge snort out of Kidlet is say 'Hydroencephalitic Baby Jesus' in the 'Andy' voice (Little Britain). Memories and laughter are had for at least 10 minutes as we reminisce about one of our favorite Christmas's. Yes, the Baby Jesus arrived, as written in at least one version of the book, on Christmas morning, in keeping with a few traditions somewhere.

Great Expectations

I'm always surprised by the fact that I am still, even at the ripe old age of 39, surprised by the merde that people do. Surprised good, and surprised bad.

It should be noted here that I celebrate the anniversary of my 39th birthday and already we're in double digits. It's not like I had a party anyway to celebrate this year, so if there is no party the birthday shouldn't count. 

I had an indecent proposal yesterday by a lovely German chap who took me to an excellent, lovely and so delicious it was nearly scandalous lunch yesterday. The meal itself took place at Gaya on Rue Bac, and it really was a brilliant fete. Ambiance, a perfect 10, presentation, service, flavours, composition were all off the charts. The waiter even knew how to properly assist me with my coat, and he was under the age of 30. 

Were it not for one small niggling little detail, notwithstanding the indecent proposal, the meal would have been sheer perfection. Ok, there were two things, but the main issue of contention was the silverware. I've seen the style before. It's flat, short tines on the fork, shallow spoon and horrifically balanced knives. I know it's supposed to be modern and trendy and fashionable, but if I can't get my food to balance on my fork, then it's not working. There are worse things in life, but in that moment I felt like a clumsy fool and I don't like feeling like a clumsy fool in a posh restaurant with my silverware clattering and bouncing all over the place. I would far rather attract attention in more subtle manner, such as a glimpse of my magnificent cleavage.

So whilst the waiter knew how to assist me with my coat, on and off (shame he was so young, and a waiter) .... my date for the fete was not quite so gallant. He had met me at the house wherein lies my Very Teeny Apartment at my suggestion, as I do like intimidating people with the armed guards posted just outside the door. Perhaps it was the sight of all those armed guards, but after our hasty greeting, he dashed off down the street with me trailing behind in a cloud of cobblestones and dust. I had to insist several times that I don't walk quickly, rushing off after him as we are trying to get acquainted with him muttering softly into the wind in front. Kandinsky was invoked, I couldn't hear a thing he was saying and I missed it. I felt a bit like I was wearing a burka and chasing my husband down the street actually. Not pleasant.

He ordered for me appropriately, and it didn't matter what I was eating off that menu, I knew it was all bound to be all right, so that was fine. I like my date to order for me, it's only appropriate. Conversation was of course, all about him. One of the things I hate about being 39 is that I have to wear my reading glasses to see my food. I was wrestling with the sardines starter trying to see if there were any bits I needed to set aside, and finally just gave up and ate the whole thing. It was fine of course. But reading glasses to eat? It's not right. It's not fair either.

Lunch continued with my German extolling the virtues of French traditions, particularly the ones involving mistresses. He subtly revealed that he has a partner of some 15 years and a 2 year old daughter. I always come in late to the game, else I would have revealed that a mistress needs to be properly kept, including an apartment and monthly allowance. Given his stress over the size of the bill at lunch's end, I'm not so sure he's up to that challenge. 

He was very pleasant and conversation was quite nice, but again, the gallantry thing left me dry. We were seated upstairs and upon leaving I insisted that he go in front of me down the stairs so that if I fell down, I could land on top of him. He rushed ahead so I couldn't even use his shoulder, and didn't hear me ask for his hand for the last several stairs which had no rail to cling to. I hate that.

And whilst we were going down the street, he didn't offer me his arm and when I did grab it, had no clue how to hold it. Clearly not a fellow used to having a delicate damsel dangling on his arm. How on earth does a man of such culture and accomplishment thus far advanced in life have no clue about how to treat a lady properly? G has always been perfect in these matters... flawless, effortless. Doors, coats, scarves, panties. Off and on, open and closed, arm proferred, hand extended, chairs out and in, ordered for, pampered and properly attended to.

Over lunch I related a story about a recent encounter I had in the Metro and he was rather impressed. I was riding the line 8 to Assemblie Nationale around 10:30 in the evening. There were very few of us on the train. There was a young woman buried in a book, and another non-descript man wearing casual clothes, late 40's or so, carrying a grocery sack. He watched her for a few moments, then sat across staring intently at her while she was either blissfully unaware or studiously ignoring him. And when I say stared, he leaned right into her, just a few inches away. At the next stop he then leapt up and quickly went into the next train car, riding there until I got up and exited the train. He got out and loitered on the platform until I passed him, then fell in behind me. The platform was empty but for me and the creepy guy and he was speeding up to me. I strode along and looked over my shoulder at him, catching him right in the eye and loudly said 'do you want to die now?'  He stopped dead in his tracks while I kept rolling up the stairs and out the door, very, very happy that I got away with that one. It's always worrisome to call the bluff on creeps but so far, knock wood, I've always pulled it off. Having a very loud, very big voice helps. Thanks mom for 12 years of opera lessons.

It's entirely possible that all of his actions were entirely innocent and that he thought I was going to mug him... but I wasn't the one acting creepy.

Day 3 of no smoking, money saved so far, 20.70 euros.

Blame it on George

I have a very dear friend George. He's a very smart fellow, lives in Monaco. He travels a lot. George likes my writing, and he said I should make a blog and write about my experiences in Paris.

So I've thought about that for a while. There are many bloggers in Paris, it seems to be a blogger's paradise, at least for a few weeks. Then they get bored with the process and flutter away although surely they must continue to eat all the cheese they were blogging about. We'll see. This blog is a bit like quitting smoking. I'm not really going to tell anyone about it, and perhaps, eventually, if I behave I'll start telling people.

We had a lovely, miserably wet morning that gave way to sunshine. There is no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes. I have coats. Dozens and dozens of coats. I like coats... I am thinking a lot about hats lately, and I want a top hat, not a tall top hat, but a medium tall one. Should be hard to find, but it's on the list.

Today I went to Guerrisol for a moment. I was on my way to get fried chicken. There is indeed a fried chicken shop in Paris, and just wow. Genuine, American style, deep south satisfaction fried chicken. http://www.allchicken.fr/restaurants/1/1/paris/#.UG3gApjMgqI
I would like to pair it up with waffles and see how that flies. A Los Angeles tradition, fried chicken & waffles. Parisiennes would dig it. Well, I would dig it, and that's all that matters.

At Guerrisol I found a fake fur coat in very good condition. I didn't buy it for the coat though. I thought it was 10 euros, but at the register the lady tried to charge me 30 euros. I sweet talked the manager into giving it to me for 20 euros, such a deal! I want one of those big fluffy cossack type hats, but I don't want real animal fur. Now the fake fur in the wholesale shops is hideously expensive, 70 euros for a meter, rather outrageous, it's not downtown LA, that's for sure!

So after de-constructing, measuring and cutting and sewing my fluffy hat is nearly complete. I shall also get a muff out of this fabric, which I think shall be quite efficient here in the Paris weather. A muff with a pocket inside for goodies... It'll be the new style, you just wait and see.

I shall post a picture of the hat & muff ensemble when it's finished.

I like sewing. I have a killer sewing machine in storage in Nanterre, but no room in my Very Teeny Apartment to set it up, really. When I lived in Chicago back in the early 80's, I was so poor I couldn't afford a coat, so I made one, sewing it by hand. It cost me 5 bucks I think, it was pretty cool. But then I discovered a treasure trove of vintage coats in the thrift shops, and bought up about 10 of them. All colors, shapes and cuts in wool with gorgeous, elegant collars, huge cuffs, grand embellishments, really classic 50's and 60's stuff that no one wanted. I paid about 2 bucks for each coat. I hung on to them for a few years, dragging them to San Francisco and LA, and sold them for about 20 bucks each, quite a nice profit. Around the same time I found a vintage lace, bias cut, floor length dress... Just exquisite. Later on in LA I sold that to Souxie of Souxie & the Banshees and she wore it as her wedding dress. True story.

So this is my first full day without a cigarette in 2 years and 11 months, since the Very Bad Thing happened. It feels pretty good, doing a hypnosis thing, it should be ok. So far, money not spent on cigarettes, 6.90e. ka-ching.

love,

t