Category Archives: Friday@Flore

Friday@Flore… Africa

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Well, folks, there is fashion here in Africa, too. It is winter in all of southern Africa, so hats are de rigeur for all Jo-berg fashionistas! As are warm, wool coats and the snazzy ankle boots that women around the world can’t seem to get enough of this year…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

While in Africa, I spoke to the guides and asked their thoughts on safari fashion. Turns out, they MUST wear khakis, because that is what visitors expect, so it is considered unprofessional to wear jeans, or anything that is not standard-issue safari wear. This is NOT how they dress when out on their own. And this is not an evil corporate plot… the self-employed agree. Sunglasses are highly recommended. The gun, being modeled by our intrepid guide July, is optional and actively discouraged.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Packing for this trip I learned that safari fashion is a tricky affair, with a few key rules and regulations. You bag can not weigh more than 20 pounds, so you must pack light, but it is winter in southern Africa right not, so you must be prepared for the cold. They told us it would go as low as 10°c at night, but we’ve had temps as low as -7° since our arrival!?!

But despite the Antarctic chill, the sun shines brightly and hats are no longer just and accessory, they are a necessity. Scarves help, too, adding warming and protecting against any flying dust, or sand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then there are the colors. NO BLACK or dark blue. It attracts tsé tsé flies!!! Whites are discouraged because it may be mistaken for light by insects in the night. Oh, and the dirt. Since you’re packing light, you won’t be changing outfits every day. The lodges offer laundry services, but you’ll still be wearing things more than once, which makes earth-tones the best option. Oh, and those laundry ladies are brutal on clothing, so packing fragile garments is at your own risk.

Of course, the fashion forward Europeans in our crowd simply could not give up their denim, or white t-shirts. Even in the wild, we need a touch of civilization!

 

Friday@Flore

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I am still at the beach, and it is time for the Fêtes de Bayonne. The fêtes officially started in the 1930s and they are related to the famous running of the bulls in Pamplona. Please don’t ask me how.

For the fêtes, everyone wears red and white, which makes it really beatuiful. Even the bullfights. Yes, I went to a bullfight. you can’t judge one until you’ve been. Now that I’ve been, I can tell you, they are horrid. The bull does not have a fighting chance. I saw one bull so hopeless that he ran full speed into the ring, right in to the stands. His suicide prevented the torador his prize, but earned him a standing ovation from me.

Today, the fêtes include bull fights, concerts, balls, the running of the calves, traditional Basque singing, with sing alongs on every corner, pelote (think Jai Alai) and a parade with floats. And beer. Copious amounts of alcohol has become ‘the thing’ at the fêtes.

The Basque love their people very much. So much that they have put together a really great transportation system of buses and trains so that the 1 million+ people who attend the fêtes each year are not tempted to drink and drive. In Hossegor their is a shuttle that runs every 45 minuets or so, doing the 20 minutes drive that leaves passengers near the train station, a short walk from downtown and all the action.

Mr French’s favorite part of the fête is the Pacquito. He does not participate, but he enjoys watching as grown men and women sit in a train, their legs around the person in front of them as they sing a traditional song (the Pacquito) and wave their hands forwards to backwards, above their heads, in unison. At some point, somebody stage dives on to the waving hands and is carried by the singers until the end of the line.

Friday@Flore

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Friday@Flore goes to Hossegor and shows you the sights from the Café de Paris. The Café de Paris is an institution around here. Set in a classic 1920’s building, at the main intersection, the lazy come here to see and be seen throughout the day, then around 19h, the active set, just back from a day catching the waves, or cycling the hills, spills in to enjoy the live music and refreshing cocktails.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am really on holidays, so I only have a few moments to take the briefest of snapshots… but sitting here for a morning coffee before a ride along the coast, I was really wishing I had the time to write more about all the fashions being sported by Parisiennes on holidays.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even on their bicycles, they are looking fairly chic, yet sportive. Hossegor is a cycling town, with the town’s center reduced to one way streets and wide cycling paths.

 

 

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Those marine stripes I mentioned when packing are still in, although I was wrong about the Wayfarers. They have been replaced by Persols this summer. Any style will do, as long as it has the signature silver at the tips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then there were the market baskets that I loved coming, and going…. Mr French even got swept away in the fun and spotted this unique little bag, that he thought was fantastic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There were even more, some sporting elegant leather trip, others boasting ethnic chic and a handful with polka dot cotton trims and bows.

Other stories, I didn’t get on film; orange or pink neon is THE thing to wear for runners this year; shoes, shoes laces, shorts or tanks, it doesn’t matter as long as it glows. The foutas Maroccan hammam towels are becoming more and more popular this year, being favored by the young surfer dudes as well as their grandmères.

Off to the beach. Bises!!!

Friday@Flore

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Heading out to the Flore this morning, I spotted a crowd, which is rather unusual in these parts. Then I looked to my left and noticed a stunningly gorgeous woman being chatted up by our local fish monger, in his shop, with the surprisingly literary name; Moby Dick (the shop, not the monger).

 

 

Yes, that is Ms Catherine Deneuve there looking absolutely fantastic. I was thrilled. We’re practically neighbors, I’ve been part of this quartier for nearly a decade, seeing stars on a nearly weekly basis and yet I had never run into the elusive Cat. The fish monger has an even more famous name (than his shop, not Catherine).

And Gerard Depardieu (yes, he owns a poissonerie) was having a grand time flirting with his movie star client, filling her trendy new Louis Vuitton red & white polka dot bag with bottles of olive oil and boating about the fresh lobster swimming in the tank below, as a film crew recorded their repartee.

Finally at the Flore, the rain clouds had stormed in, turn the daylight into a night sky, women rushing by in a blur. Black is still de rigeur on these gloomy summer days, with sandals some how making it look ok.

And big bags, lots of them, as every one dreams of travel, prepares for travel and heads off to travel.

On the phone, perhaps making plans for a quick get away, hopefully before the weekend madness really sets in?

Everyone struggling to keep the nasty weather from making us feel down and grumpy. Occasionally forgetting that this is Paris. The sky may be behaving dastardly, but the light remains inspiring and beauty abounds.

And one terribly optimistic soul keeping things bright and her fashion colorful, providing delicious eye candy for the rest of us as we throw our heads down and our umbrellas UP.

 

Friday@Flore

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Hanging at the Café Flore, I spotted these dapper gents, wearing their formal garb on the streets. You don’t often see waiters just strolling the streets of Paris, because they change at the office. Cafés have underground lockers and these guys change just below you feet as you saunter on by. When they’re not at work, they blend in with the crowd, sporting unremarkable civilian wear. These penguins were cooling it on their break.

A week later, I spotted them again, this time having infinitely more fun, oggling the ladies as the pass. I’m not sure if this garçon* went back to serving after the lovely lady in red came his way, or if he had to got to the medecin de travail for whip lash!

But these group sightings are actually fairly uncommon. Waiters are on their feet dealing with colleagues and their customers all day, so on break, they often like to steal off on their own for a bit, enjoying a peaceful, solitary nicotine fix…

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Or calling their damsel in distress, dealing with family matters, making medical appointments, placing bets at the races, and doing just about everything else regular folk do from the office. Only they do it on their feet, with a potential crowd and cars zooming by.

It is a lot of work, requiring balance, diplomacy, a fairly decent memory. and some considerable math skills. Watching the tables and joking around helps them get through the day with their good humour and sanity in tact.

And even on their break, these quintessential Parisian gentlemen are happy to give passers by the time of day.

 

*garçon – by now pretty much the entire planet knows not to use the term garçon, although I have noticed that certain Québecois visitors find it rather amusing and use the term as a joke, which always fails to make the waiters laugh.

Friday@Flore

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Mom-esse Oblige, I need to make an announcement:

E has passed her BAC. With Mention Bien, no less. Kudos, all around. 

Really not bad for a little yankee with two anglo parents. In honor of her success, here is a look at what French teens are wearing lately.

This girl was so stylin’ I couldn’t resist. And those shoes! I simply love those shoes. So much going on, I didn’t get to a change to ask who designed them, but I did manage to get a close up…

And with those wide heels and platform sole they are infinitely more walkable than one would imagine. They’re almost downright practical.

Most girls were considerably more practical, sticking to the strappy sandals that are so popular these days. And sailor blue. From marine stripes, to polka dots, with a bit of floral thrown in, everyone had a hint of blue, even the boys in their jeans. Of course those champagne glasses are merely optional.

Back to the Flore, I spotted a trio coming my way. Lovely girls, lovely dresses, but the rubber soled shoes were a dead give away, even before I heard their yankee twang. Not that it is a problem, they look beautiful, and were incredibly happy to be exploring Paris. Just an observation.

Then along comes this pair and you simply know they’re local girls. Probably from the quartier. So yes, it is time to go and get your black leather jackets out of the storage and start wearing them again. or pass ’em on to your teens…

And, just like their Moms, teens tend to travel in packs. Walking two by two, three by three; in large groups, or intimate couples. It’s girl time !!!

When they’re alone, they are none too happy about it. Of course, mobile phones have made it possible to express this displeasure and share the moment all at the same time. Even annoyed, this young lady looks like a summer holiday.

 

more Flore

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A few weeks ago I posted photos of the elegant, rather pampered folk who are willing to stand on the boul St Germain patiently waiting for a table on the terrace of the Flore. The inside may be completely empty as posers and voyeurs like myself wait for a prime spot; a table with a view. Today, for the first time ever, I had to wait my turn.

In a very UnFrench way, people wait their turn here. In a very French way, they refuse to wait in line, but stand there dispersed, keeping an eye out for who arrives when. They are un-stereotypically civil about waiting their turn.

So I stood there waiting, completely relaxed knowing that I wouldn’t have to worry about someone pushing their way in, pleasantly chatting with the waiter Dominique and watching the crowds, when two ladies with leopard-spotted silk scarves paid their bill.

“Attend,” he warns me. “Don’t get too excited, they’re enjoying making you wait.”

So I wait, and another couple is waiting, casually leaning against a sea-foam green Renault, when a very scruffy looking, local guy shows up with his kid. He is clearly seeking a table, prowling between the place where the civilized wait and the lucky bathe in the luxury of their table with a view. My radar goes up. He is being très uncool. He starts chatting up the two ladies in their leopard scarves and suddenly, they are giving him their place.

I pop up, “Excuse me, I was waiting for this table.”
“I was waiting, too.”
“Yes, but I was waiting much longer than you”.
The leopard ladies try to help him out… “Non, non, we assure you, he was waiting.”

I don’t care about the reinforcements, I am already seated. “Listen, I was waiting. If you have your doubts, go ask Dominique, the waiter.” I am relieved to have had a witness. There is no way both of us missed this guy as we stood there watching for ten minutes. I was there first.

He yells at me and I repeat, “Ask the waiter.”

The waiter for our section simply refuses to get involved. He is not Dominique.
The man is irate, he grabs his kid’s hand, storming off as he shouts, “You know, we can’t take living in France much longer because of people like you.

At this point I start feeling badly about having deprived the sad, washed out looking kid of a place to rest his feet and enjoy a snack. Italian – Jewish mother syndrome. Then, I remember the 50 empty seats just behind me, which confirms that the kid is sad and washed out looking because he’s stuck with that for a Dad. I happily order a guilt-free kir, as I sit and ponder exactly what he means by “people like you.” Did I just deprive a xenophobe of a seat? Does he think I’m an uppity Parisienne? Either way, I’m feeling pretty content with myself as the sun breaks for the first time in days.

Friday@Flore

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This was the first Parisienne to come along my way, she looked so chic and fashionable, that I wanted to be her, and despite the soaring temperatures, she looks so cool.

The rest of us were not necessarily fairing so well, everyone looking slightly wilted thanks to a drastic temperature change. It is summer at last and I headed out the door expecting lots of summer wear.

What I say were legs. Legs everywhere. Poking out of skirts, popping out of dresses. From weekend wear to office attire, the Parisiennes were showing their gams. With lots of them having remarkably toned, tanned legs. Now how did they get those tans?

The ladies who look so relaxed and cool after a day at the office astound me and send me into reveries about where they are headed. Clearly she is all dolled about for someone. I love the mix of casual canvas heels with the taupe Birkin bag. As my friend in San Francisco says, “I want!” And she smelled fantastic as she breezed past…

Hermes not withstanding, the absolute MUST HAVE fashion accessories of the day, was, without a doubt, a large overnight bag. Parisiennes are going away for the weekend to get the most out of the summer temps, or perhaps to escape the Paris grey. And while a wheelie bag maybe practical, the vintage style Louis Vuitton almost smells like grandmère and summer weekends long ago.

Red hair and leopard prints. It seemed like everyone was going out tonight to celebrate the season.

Intricate back, gladiator sandals and maxi skirts. These girls seem to symbolize the recent fashion scene, as they rest, strategize and prepare for an evening in the sweltering heat, serving the über-trendy jet-set crowd on the ultra-cozy terrace of La Societé, one of the more discreet addresses of the Costes collection.

Friday@Flore

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Thank you for tuning in. I hope you enjoyed yesterday’s musique…

We had about two hours of sunshine yesterday and it came just after a tremendously dramatic thunder shower with lightening bolts and deafening echos. As soon as the skies cleared, Parisians came scurrying downstairs the true city rats that we are (Ratatouille was no accident), gasping for light and fresh air.

All this gloomy weather has Parisiennes scrambling for a hot summer look that will keep them warm. Red is the solution; it gets the heart rate up and inspires love, like spring is supposed to do, if it ever arrives. Any shade of red, from bright fuchsias to deep rusts will do, on any garment; from jackets, to handbags, scarves to shoes.

Red pants are as IN as ever, I suspect that there are closets full of red shorts just waiting to hit the streets, if those clouds ever clear. In the meantime, it goes perfectly with that glass of Burgundy, since it is still too cool for a proper rosé.

When red is not available, every Parisienne is sure to have some summer whites in her closet. But even with long pants, despite the low temps, girls have succumbed to the comfort of open toed shoes. Damn the rains, something had to come off.

And then there are the pragmatists, accepting the weather for what it is, and looking absolutely swimmy in this fall’s coming fashion. Leather jackets, and low boots are still in, soon to be joined by the faux Chanel blazers on offer at all the fashion houses that market to the fresh and the fashionable.

And now a word from our sponsors; I would like to thank Lindsey, from Pictours Paris for reminding me to bracket my shots over drinks last Saturday. Such a “duh” moment, its embarrassing. Milles mercis!

Friday@Flore (not)

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Your regularly scheduled programming has been interrupted for La Fête de la Musique…. tune in tomorrow for a delayed viewing of Friday@Flore.

Fête de la Musique begins early, very early, for some. Around noon in the Luxembourg Gardens scheduled concerts had already began. But, I’m a working girl, so I only made it out the door around dinner time.

Heading home from a meeting, I saw café after café counting on police indulgence for the evening, having installed additional tables that sprawled well,beyond their legal limits. The places were already over flowing with Parisians absolutely thrilled to be enjoying a rare moment of blue skies. Especially after a tremendous thunder storm that had shaken windows throughout the city earlier in the day.

The entire city was ready to party. The first band I ran into was fantastic, playing original tunes that made you want to dance. 100 metres further along was a very young boy playing violin. I crossed the street to take a photo, expecting to hear a squeeky repetition of scales. Instead, I heard an impressively polished performance of some basic Mozart tunes. Wow.

Then it was off to the Grand Palais, where they were throwing a Bal Blanc to celebrate the end of Daniel Buren’s installation of Monumenta. Lots of youth trying to wear mostly white. It was infinitely less elegant than the Dîner Blanc, but just as fun, and a great way to really appreciate Buren’s piece, which was all about color and light. I was loving the scene and the intense beat of the techno music made my insides smile. I wanted to dance. Instead I lay down on the floor to photograph this original couple with the Buren couple in the background.

It was a great scene, only it felt almost criminal to be inside on this glorious evening so I headed back out to the Odeon area, where I know the performers and exactly where to head for British rock, 80’s cover songs or an old fashioned oompah band.

I have a particular soft spot for the man who stands on the rue de Seine, near the corner of the rue des Beaux Arts playing traditional French songs over a sound system as he distributes the lyrics and leads the crowd in a sing along. He once had an average day job, but thanks to his success at the Fête de la Musique, he now offers his services for corporate events, cruises and private parties, making a career of his passion. Proof positive that La Fête la Musique can change your life.

My favorite discovery of the evening, these guys played original music for at least six hours; They were amazing!!!

 

 

 

 

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