I finally left the apartment around noon on Saturday as I already mentioned. The plan was to go to the outlet stores and then Galarie Impaire, the Parisien branch of Creative Growth. I checked their website for location and hours. I remembered where the Kookai outlet was and hoped I could find et vous. Kookai was not exactly where I’d left it, tho it hadn’t moved, but we were reunited eventually. I bought a dress, pants and jacket with much happiness. et vous remained hidden from me – I still need to look them up on the internet. Then I wandered over to GI only to find it is closed for the month of August (tho I double checked, and their website said nothing about it).
I went home and went to bed setting the alarm on my phone for one hour later.
Yeah, that didn’t work. When it went off an hour later, my body was still encased in led, and the men beating it with railroad ties were just hitting their stride. I reset the alarm giving myself another hour, and 30 minute after that I finally got up. I had had terrible nightmares about G and work (not combined). It was 7:30 pm.
Mose had invited me to come to a dinner party that night. Not sure if I had already missed its beginning, I called him set to decline, stay home and maybe watch a French movie I’d brought. But he seemed so chipper (if a bit annoyed by my indecision); the party was at someone’s house and another party on a barge, I changed my mind and met him at 9 at Convention on Metro ligne 12.
A Catalan woman living here doing her post doc in pharmaceuticals celebrated her home for 3 friends who had come to visit her. Everyone spoke some combination of French, Catalan, Spanish or English, and I was surprised by our lingual fluidity and grace.
After the dinner there was some dissent about the next venue. Our Parisen (we had just one) suggested we go to a white party on a barge. You get in free if you are wearing white, but you have to pay 10 euros if not, and everything is white inside. (On a brief side note: white is in fashion as are very baggy clothes. I will pass on both, thanks.) As we walked from the metro on our way to Mose’s party (which finally won out), the same gentleman noted that it isn’t important that we take the fastest way; it is important that we get to the Seine as quickly as possible because we have women with us and they must experience a romantic walk.
He says that French women are very difficult to impress, and they never smile. He prefers foreign women. Mose said because they are easier to get into bed. Our Parisien said: well, just to get them to smile. I shared how difficult it can be to shake the strange men who start following me bc I respond when they speak to me probably because they are used to Parisien women for whom ignoring them isn’t necessarily a rejection.
I loved the barge party. I took photos, drank French white wine, danced and chatted with my new best friends. We left at 3, and I came home and went to bed. The next day, I was up again at 3 pm. I should have set an alarm. Or maybe I was just tired.
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