The posters are up for the Paris wedding fair. I think it’s amusing that it’s being held in Palais Brongniart which I thought was the precinct of the Paris stock exchange. One thing I’ve noticed in recent years is that wedding dresses are looking more and more like evening dresses, showing as much flesh as possible. My wedding dresses (note the plural) are definitely old hat. Not that French women are having weddings much these days, according to the statistics. It’s certainly the case of Black Cat’s friends. I asked her why. It seems that most couples don’t get married because it costs so much. Well, if you’re having your hens’ party in Madrid like one of her friends, I suppose it does!
So what are they doing instead? Well, they’re pacsing. The PACS (pacte civil de solidarité) is an agreement between two adults of the same or different sex to organise their community life. The current form dates from 2005 and is very similar to marriage except for certain rights (entitlement to a percentage of the other person’s retirement after death for example) and the fact that you don’t have to go through a divorce procedure if you want to end the contract. That in itself can be a bonus, but it hardly seems the ideal way to start your life as a couple!
You register the agreement with the court and can even have a ceremony similar to that of a registry marriage. Curiously, it is not same sex couples who are becoming pacsed the most but heterosexual couples. It seems that young people feel perfectly comfortable with just inviting their close friends along to their PACS ceremony but wouldn’t dream of not having all the second cousins and sixth-best friends to their wedding.
I don’t know if anything similar exists in the English-speaking countries.
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When Relationnel and I go for an apéritif in Paris, we like to do it in style. We’ll never stay in the Hôtel Meurice or the Hôtel du Louvre or the Lutétia (because we live here!), but we can have a taste of luxury in their beautiful bars and indoor gardens.
Nibbles on the word game table
The Hôtel du Louvre, just opposite the museum as you can imagine, has a very comfortable lounge bar, Le Defender, (but no indoor garden). The starting price for a glass of wine is 14 euros for a graves or a macon up to 23.50 for a chateauneuf du pape or 29.50 for a mersault 1er cru, accompanied by a selection of nibbles including delicious cheese sticks that you dip in guacomole or toasted bread with olive tapenade and salmon rillettes. I love the four corner tables, which each have a different word puzzle in French.
Café gourmand at Le Defender, Hôtel du Louvre
They also serve an excellent café gourmand (coffee or tea with a selection of mini pastries) for 9.50 euros. There’s a jazz band four times a week as well. Last time we went there with friends, the waiter gave us the wrong bill – for a pot of tea instead of a glass of chablis, a glass of champagne and two Americanos. We pointed out the error and when he came back with the second bill, told us that customers with our honesty were rare so one of the Americanos was on the house!
The Meurice is not far away, on Rue de Rivoli. The décor in Bar 228 is much more sophisticated and so is the wine list. Lots of cocktails, but I’m a wine drinker so I’ll tell you about that. There’s an excellent Laroche chablis, a Gitton sancerre, a haut medoc and a mercurey for 16 euros and a puligny monrachet and pessac léognan 2004 for 25 euros. Drinks are served with three sorts of nibbles. They also have a piano and bass player.
The Lutetia, on boulevard Raspail on the Left Bank, is legendary for its Belle Epoque Art Deco style. The prices are about the same as the Meurice and there are also interesting nibbles. Obviously one of the places to be seen. You’re supposed to see all sorts of famous people there but I’m afraid I never manage to recognise anyone! We went there recently with friends after seeing the somewhat disappointing Pompei exhibition at the Maillol Museum.
Have you got any to recommend?
Hôtel du Louvre, Bar Le Defendeur, Place André Malraux, 75001 Paris
Le Meurice, Bar 228, 228 rue de Rivoli, 75001 Paris
Hôtel Lutetia, 45, boulevard Raspail , 75006 Paris
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It’s grey and miserable outside, even though it’s 13°, but with winter sales starting tomorrow, the spring windows have already appeared. I thought I’d try and cheer myself up by visiting some of the clothing shops in the Palais Royal.
But I was disappointed. Just look at this one. I’m stunned that anyone should choose to dress their window using such ugly mutts. But then I’m not really a dog lover. I used to be. When I was a kid, we had a half-corgi (the other half jumped the fence as my mother used to say) called Taffy whom I adored. I used to take him for long walks after school and talk to him in French. Unfortunately he developed heart worm, which is often the way in the tropics. One afternoon, I came home from uni. My parents were sitting under the honeysuckle trellis in the back yard looking very forlorn. “Taffy has to be put down (what a euphemism!). We’re not up to it so you and DrummerBrother have to take him to the vet.” Oh great! Ever obedient, we carried him sorrowfully to the car. I cried the whole way there and the whole way back. Funny how neither DrummerBrother or I have ever had a pet while ActorBrother (who was probably off catching snakes) has always had a dog …
Well, enough about dogs. I then walked down the other end of the gallery to see what Stella McCartney had to show. I really don’t think her windows are any better. The clothes are not even very attractive. However, I love the effect caused by the reflection of the fences along the Palais Royal. It’s not until you take the photo that you can actually see them. Seriously, would you be tempted to buy that dress on the right? And how come the dummies don’t have heads? The one in the picture above is bald. I don’t think that’s particularly seductive either!
The other window isn’t that much better. I suppose it’s a little more colourful but that’s about all. This isn’t your bottom of the range stuff. We’re looking at 700 euros for a dress and 350 for a pair of trousers. It’s not as bad as Jérôme Huillier admittedly. I didn’t even bother taking photos of their window. It all looks completely synthetic to me. I should console myself with the fact that I’m not tempted to buy anything! Except one of those little black dresses in La Petite Robe Noire, but they’re completely out of my market.
I’ll wait until the sales frenzy dies down before I go and do a bit of shopping somewhere else.
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Just power walked down to Concorde and back through the Tuileries Gardens but grossly underestimated the temperature. The thermometer says 9.5° but I forgot about the wind factor. Next time, I’ll wear my cap with ear flaps (hoping I don’t meet anyone I know, Black Cat in particular) and my inferior Australian suede gloves (because I still haven’t got my new rabbit-fur ones from Italy). Or I could just use my exercise bike and watch a movie at the same time (if I can get the technology to work).
But if I did that, I’d miss the pianist on Place du Palais Royal and the guy with the giant bubble ring that all the kids love. I wouldn’t see the glass pyramids of the Louvre or the pink marble Carrousel Arch with its gold figures and green horses. I would miss the sun setting over the Eiffel Tower and the giant Ferris wheel looking so out-of-place with the Obelisk peaking out behind, mocking my fear of heights. I wouldn’t see the kids sailing their boats on the pond and looking like an Impressionist painting (except for their jeans and anoraks) nor hoping for a ride on the Olde Worlde carousel.
Neither would I be reminded on seeing the Orangerie that I haven’t been back since renovation to visit the wonderful oval rooms with Monet’s waterlilies (shame on me). I wouldn’t see the seagulls calling and screeching over the fountain. I wouldn’t have that stunning view of the Louvre spread out before me as I power walk my way back. I’d miss the man who hires out the sail boats pushing his boat-laden trolley home at the end of the day.
I wouldn’t see the lovers kissing on benches (they don’t have cold ears) or the foreign tourists having their cheese and wine picnics (and ignoring the cold). I wouldn’t see Henry (and not the more strait-laced Thomas) Moore’s Reclining Figure at the foot of the Orangerie or the 18 Maillol statues down the other end. I would miss the open-mouthed fish at the bottom of the lamp posts next to the Decorative Arts Museum. Not to mention the giant monkey leaning out the window!
I wouldn’t be treated to the welcoming smell of roast chestnuts as I come out onto Rue de Rivoli. Neither would I go past the Comédie Française where Molière died in his chair or see the Night Revellers’ Kiosk. I wouldn’t see all the kids playing among the Buren columns and proudly wearing their crowns (they had the galette des rois today). I wouldn’t see all the people crowded into Miss Bibi’s tiny jewellery shop nor would I have the pleasure of feeling my ears get warmer as I walk up the stairs to my apartment.
But, more than anything else, I might forget just how lucky I am to actually live in the Palais Royal, right in the centre of the City of Light!
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We all know there are two types of people in the world when it comes to weight – the natural skinnies and us. The natural skinnies, including Black Cat, appear to be able to eat enormous amounts of food, and never budge a gram, while we seem to put on weight just looking at a high calorie morsel. It doesn’t really work that way of course. The natural skinnies do have a different metabolism, but they also seem to be more attracted to less fatty foods, or so I’ve noticed over the years. Black Cat wouldn’t eat meat for the first six years of her life and when she did, she’d take off all the fatty bits. She never ate the chicken skin either.
Leonardo, like me, didn’t do anything of the sort. We both have the same sort of morphology. I have chocolate junkie friends who are natural skinnies and I couldn’t work out how they did it. Black Cat is not an example because she doesn’t like chocolate of any shape or kind. But careful observation has shown that either they exercise a lot or they don’t eat fatty foods. I like good chocolates from time to time but I don’t ever crave them, unlike Relationnel.
When natural skinnies are stressed, they lose weight, and when they’re happy, they lose it too! We obviously put on weight in both cases. So keeping my weight down when I was young was always an effort and always much easier when I had control over what I ate on an everyday basis. I also had a reasonable amount of regular exercise, playing volley ball and squash and swimming.
Then I came to France and discovered a whole new way of eating. I just loved the baguettes and pastries and wine. Once I set up house, though, I switched to Asian cooking – mainly because I didn’t want to compete with the French – and kept my weight down that way until I was pregnant with Leonardo. I suddenly started craving bread and vegemite, milk and lamb cutlets. The weight piled on of course and it wasn’t until Leonardo was 8 months old and I cut out the 2 litres of milk a day that I lost weight again.
I was fine until I became pregnant with Black Cat and the same thing happened again. But life was not easy so I kept the weight on a bit longer. By the time she was 18 months old, though, I was actually slim again but unhappy so it gradually came back on because I started binging. Then, a couple of years later, when I turned 36, I had an epiphany and decided I was going to take my life (and weight) in hand. By the next year, I had lost 17 kilos. It just seemed to fall off by itself as my divorce approached.
In 2004
I maintained a weight I was very happy with until I met Relationnel. Our eating habits changed and we ate out a lot. We also started our « wine-tasting » holidays where we’d spend a week in a wine-growing area of France visiting a couple of vineyards each day. I acquired a penchant for foie gras and started eating bread with my meals, which I had never done. We’d grill large amounts of meat on the open fire or barbecue every day.
It was no surprise to discover I was putting on weight! Relationnel was too, but to a lesser extent. Although he’s not a natural skinny he still benefits from all the gymnastics he did in his youth and sporadic intensive exercise. I can remember coming home from three weeks’ holiday in Italy and not being able to fit into my clothes any more. Relationnel was amazed. Despite the fact that we had eaten virtually the same food the whole time, I was the one who had put on weight. He thought my excess weight was due to snacking between meals which I virtually never do.
So, 13 years after we first met, I was over 20 kilos heavier! Next time I’ll tell you how I lost all those kilos.
The little village of Le Mesnil Jourdain in Normandy has some wonderful half-timbered houses, both new and old, in addition to the manor house we stayed in over Christmas. Can you tell the old from the new in the ones below?
The oak structure was built first and the holes filled in with wattle-and-daub (upright branches interwoven by smaller branches and covered by a thick coat of clay mud), laths and plaster, or bricks. Nowadays, they are usually renovated with concrete and whitewashed.
The misshapen walls on these old half-timbered buildings are the result of age and not sloppy craftsmenship of course.
This one has a thatched roof. Irises are often planted on a bed of clay along the roof ridge. This is to make sure the ends of the thatch are firmly anchored in place.
From this side, you can tell it’s of recent construction but from the other side, only the regularity of the timbering gives it away.
Once the main building was finished, the towers were added to one end to take the staircase up to the upper floors.
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When I first came to France, the galette des rois was only celebrated on the feast of the Epiphany, the famous 12th day of Christmas, January 6th, the day on which the three kings reached Bethlehem. Now you see the first galettes at New Year and you can buy them right up until 31st January. A galette is a flat cake and the word is also used to describe buckwheat crêpes.
They are two types of galettes des rois: fourrée and non fourrée, meaning that they contain almond cream or are plain. Leonardo disliked almond cream up until recent years so we always bought the plain one, which caused problems among adepts. I can remember one friend actually buying a second galette when I said I’d bring the galette to her house, just in case I only bought the plain sort! Our friendship was short-lived.
The quality of the galette depends on the bakery or pâtisserie you buy it from. It’s basically flaky pastry with a thick pasty almond cream (called “frangipane“) containing a fève or broad bean and is sold with a cardboard crown. Today, the fève is a small plaster or porcelain figurine that can represent anything from a traditional baker to a Disney character. The crowns can be anything from a basic gold affair to something more elaborate and colourful. Usually the more expensive the galette, the more original the fève and crown will be. When the kids were little, they used to make their own.
Traditionally, the youngest child gets under the table. The galette is cut into as many pieces as there are guests. The person under the table then indicates who should get each piece. This was Black Cat’s prerogative before I met Relationnel. After that, it was Thoughtful, as the second twin to be born, who would go under the table. This year, we had our first galette (a little early) with my Australian cousin who is a few months younger. When Brainy Pianist comes back from holidays, it will be his turn. It’s very amusing to see these tall teenagers disappearing under the table!
Whoever gets the fève then chooses a king or queen. When the galette is shared among friends, the person with the fève has to buy the next galette so you can see why it could go on forever. The galette is better when you can warm it in the oven. I’ve tried making my own, but flaky pastry is a tedious affair and even if you buy the pastry ready made, I still prefer the almond paste in the ones from the bakery.
Sharing a galette des rois is popularly known as tirer les rois, where tirer means to draw stakes. We usually accompany it with apple juice and cider but that may just be our own tradition.
Not sure how wise it was to have thick delicious hot chocolate PLUS a mille-feuille à la vanille Bourbon (vanilla slice) after two soft-boiled eggs with brioche toast at Angelina’s in rue de Rivoli this morning. I didn’t add any fresh cream to the chocolate though.
Perhaps I should have stuck to the basic breakfast of hot beverage (I could have sensibly chosen tea), mini pâtisseries, toast and jam that I had last time. But I felt duty bound to accompany my 22-year old cousin from Australia who’s living and working in London at the moment and assuage her guilt feelings about eating something so sweet for breakfast. She had the same except for a mouth-melting all-chocolate concoction called Choc-Africain (dense chocolate cake, rich chocolate mousse, 100% African dark chocolate glaze) instead of the (plain) mille-feuille which made me feel slightly more virtuous.
Mille-feuille is my favourite French pâtisserie and they’re particularly good at Angelina’s. The décor is pure 1900s and very popular with tourists, though I did see a few French businessmen just finishing breakfast when we arrived. It was founded in 1903 by Austrian confectioner Antoine Rumpelmayer and named after his daughter-in-law. It’s a wonderful afternoon tea spot as well. There’s often a queue but it usually goes quite fast. You can sit in their comfortable armchairs and be served by waitresses in black dresses and little white lace aprons and imagine Proust and Coco Chanel walking by and greeting their friends. There’s also a shop where you can buy all the goodies.
And don’t forget to check out the ladies and gents upstairs!
Jean Michel and I were pleasantly surprised to discover a little alfresco version of Angelina’s at the Petit Trianon in the gardens of Versailles last summer – a just reward for our hours of cycling! I’ve learnt since that there are others in the Louvre Museum, the Luxembourg Museum, the Galeries Lafayette, the Palais des Congrès and the Jardin d’Acclimatation.
Angelina
226 rue de Rivoli
Open every day from 7.30 am till 7pm
Open weekend from 8.30 am till 7pm
Breakfast time
Everyday until 11 :30 a.m.
Parisian breakfast 20 euro
Tea, coffee or Angelina hot chocolate
Fresh juice – Orange, grapefruit or lemon
Mini viennese pastries – Croissant, pain au chocolat, pain aux raisins
Moisan organic bread roll with butter, Angelina honey & jam
Angelina breakfast 32 euro
Tea, coffee or Angelina hot chocolate
Fresh juice – Orange, grapefruit or lemon
Mini viennese pastries – Croissant, pain au chocolat, pain aux raisins
Moisan organic bread roll with butter, Angelina honey & jam
Seasonal fresh fruit salad
Now this is another “sculpture” near the Palais Royal that I’m not keen on, because I find it somewhat garish, but I have some (perfectly normal French) friends who think it’s wonderful. It’s the entrance to the Palais Royal metro on Place Colette and it’s called “Le Kiosque des Noctambules” (The Night Revellers’ Kiosk) and was designed and built in 2000 by Jean-Michel Othoniel.
There are two domes made of multicoloured glass balls, one in warm colours with a blown glass figure on top (the sun?) and the other in cold colours with a purple figure on top (the moon?). I checked out the symbolism on my favourite Paris architectural information blog,archeologue.over-blog. It says that the two domes are placed on top of a frame forming an eight (not immediately obvious), which is the symbol of eternity. A little bench at one end is there to welcome night revellers (I must check next time if there are any). The little fence around the bench consists of a series of hammered metal rings incrusted with coloured glass.
When you go down the steps to the metro, you come to the second part of the installation. There are two large circles embedded in the brick wall with coloured beads inside an Art Nouveau surround. The “jewels” apparently blink out at you in the dark corridor. Mystery downstairs, brightness upstairs is the idea it seems. I’ve always found them a little strange personally. I didn’t realise there was any connection with the other part.
I personally prefer Hector Guimardt’s traditional metro entrance in front of the Louvre, built in 1900, but that’s not surprising because I’m a great fan of Art Nouveau.
Imagine my surprise when I looked out the window on 2nd January 2008 to see a pack of wolves in the Palais Royal gardens, made even more realistic by a blanket of snow! Even up close they were pretty convincing. The sculpteur, Olivier Estoppey, had managed to make them look as though they were running. They disappeared after a while and, to my great surprise, turned up again in a French detective film called Le Crime est notre affaire.
It’s because we’re next to the French Ministry of Culture that the Palais Royal gardens are often the site of temporary exhibitions sponsored by an association called Sculptures au Palais Royal. Some, like the wolves, are truly artistic, but most of them are modern sculptures that I personally think are awful. Maybe it’s a question of generation because Thoughtful, who’s 22, thinks they’re wonderful. He likes the contrast between the old and new. Being Australian, I just like the old!
Of course, the Palais Royal’s most famous “sculpture” is Les Deux Plateaux, better known as the Buren columns. These “stripey” black and white columns of different sizes are very popular with tourists but they are also a wonderful playground for the local kids who come up with all sorts of inventive games. They climb on them, slalom around them on their little scooters and bikes and put their dolls on top.
When work first began on the columns in 1985 on the site of a parking lot, it caused a furore. The objectors eventually managed to find a legal loophole and have the work stopped. By then it had escalated from a discussion on the appropriateness of modern art in an historical context to a major political debate.
Every day after work, Relationnel used to stop by and read the day’s graffiti, slogans and caricatures on the boardings around the worksite. Everyone seemed to have joined the debate. It became increasingly heated and venemous with insults and slander on every side. The French daily Le Figaro launched a major offensive which ultimately won the day and the work was finally resumed in 1986. Major renovations were carried out and completed in 2011 so the columns are all looking very spruce.
When I first saw them, I didn’t like them at all because I couldn’t see any connection between the so-called “sculpture” and the Palais Royal but when I realised that the stripes were actually a reflection of the regulatory grey and white striped blinds on my windows, I adopted them!
The posters are up for the Paris wedding fair. I think it’s amusing that it’s being held in Palais Brongniart which I thought was the precinct of the Paris stock exchange. One thing I’ve noticed in recent years is that wedding dresses are looking more and more like evening dresses, showing as much flesh as possible. My wedding dresses (note the plural) are definitely old hat. Not that French women are having weddings much these days, according to the statistics. It’s certainly the case of Black Cat’s friends. I asked her why. It seems that most couples don’t get married because it costs so much. Well, if you’re having your hens’ party in Madrid like one of her friends, I suppose it does!
