lit up

The lights are on at the new Madison Street Lanvin boutique. Until now, rich ladies were spending loads on lovely things, but had to shopping by candlelight. Who said being wealthy was easy?

If only, right. The shoes alone are enough to make your heart swoon and your pocket book swell. The new shop is fully loaded with bridal, bag, clothes, and shoes.

Lanvin, 815 Madison Ave, NY

pretty in pink

On my first trip to Paris I didn’t go into one clothing boutique, seriously, not one. What the hell was I thinking? I know! This time I made a must-do list of boutiques. I google-mapped directions, and studied each location; I was so ready, by the time I hit the streets I could provide locals with directions. Slightly compulsive, but I like to think of myself as prepared.

One of my favorite boutiques was Isabel Marant. The small black building was tucked away on rue Saintonge. I had the whole place to myself. Walking slowly from rack to rack, I made sure to exam every single article that hung from those wooden hangers. I didn’t want to miss a thing. I knew enough French to ask for my size, and once I had settled on the pieces I wanted to try on, I slipped around the corner, behind the large wooden doors to model for myself my soon-to-be purchases.

Believe it or not, what was purchased doesn’t matter, that is not the point of my story. Down to what matters…

So I approach the counter, and the tall, slim, 35-year-old reaches her hand out to take my clothes. Her slender fingers extend and I glance down to see…oh my! No she wasn’t missing a figure, and her hand did not fall off. She has florescent nail polish. Florescent pink to be exact.

In that moment all I could think was, “People actually wear that!” Garance Dore talked about her summer love for florescent polish, but Garance lives in a dream world where maybe Kate Moss and Karl Lagerfeld have florescent nails, but not the rest of us. But oh was I wrong, apparently the coolness of florescent polish has trickled down to the woman behind the counter. Maybe she reads Garance’s blog, maybe she’s just as cool as Kate and Karl, obviously I don’t know.

I had a minor moment of worldly awareness, thanks to nail polish. This story is stupid, I know. Whatever. No matter what, I won’t be painting my nails florescent pink anytime soon.

Back to life, back to reality

My husband and I just got back from Paris on Sunday. We have friends over there, he dj’s, and I like to think I am more French that I am, kind-of like those Irish that only come out on St. Patrick’s Day to drink. I’m not that bad, I promise.

This isn’t our first trip to Paris, but knowing that we wanted to travel elsewhere in the coming years, we planned ahead to make sure this trip would be fantastically-fabulous. We wandered the streets, TJ went from record store to record store, and I strolled from Isabel Marant to Vanessa Bruno, with a day trip spent at the Bon Marche. In the evenings we spent our time eating and drinking with the best of friends - stayed up till early morning, and slept in until late afternoon. It was what every Paris vacation should be; extravagant yet simple.

There is something unreal that happens to your brain when you are not checking an email for a week; not a personal email, not a work email. A true vacation, wherein you transport yourself to another lifestyle, where money doesn’t matter, everyday stresses don’t exist, and the biggest dilemma is which Celine bag to purchase…oh life is good in that moment.

But it’s back to work. Back to bills to pay, dishes to do, deadlines and dilemmas. Back to everyday life. Oh, if only every day could be like a Paris vacation.

A girl can dream right?