Nothing is better over the holidays than a great story:

Once upon a time, in Paris there were two Parisiennes who were not quite like other Parisiennes. They did things like dye their hair blue and were perhaps called eccentric by their neighbors. The girls did not know that there was someone else out there very much like them in the world. And then one of the girl’s brothers met the other girl and knew right way that he had found one of his sister’s kindred spirits. He insisted they meet.

Over time, they began to see that he had a point, and they started collaborating together until one day, they designed a vase, the April Vase and they liked it very much. They liked it so much, they decided to make more and try and sell them. Some people loved them, too. Others were less enthusiastic, but the girls kept making their vases.

Then, one day, a man with a gallery decided he really liked those vases, too and he was going to feature them in his design shop. They were a smashing success, taking the city by storm. The girls were able to start designing other vases, and design objects, and after 20 years of collaboration, they finally opened a store together. And they did it all while traveling the world and keeping their hair blue!

Tsé&Tsé vases are a Parisian classic. They dress up wild flowers, dress down exotic blooms. You can pull out a tube, to have only a few, or line ’em up for an impressive display. And they give your partner, or yourself, the perfect inspiration to fill the house with blooms, making it a gift that keeps on giving through out the year.

Happy Holidays one and all.

I recently went to a nutritionist who heard 15 minutes of my lifestyle (the 20km de Paris, my Californian love for eating anything green), saw that I was 30% fat and declared, “Madame, you are seriously dehydrated.” He ordered me to drink 2 litres of water a day et voilà I was cured. It feels like magic.

Drinking water is important for everyone, but buying it in those plastic bottles is pretty hard on the environment and the jury is starting to debate if it’s so great for our health, so I’ve taken to drinking Eau de Seine!!!

The Mairie de Paris feels the same way about the importance of staying hydrated and keeping it local, so they have deigned these fun carafés so that visitors can feel like they’re getting a bit of Paris in their daily intake. And just last week, they made it even easier by opening their own eBoutique so that tourists who are no longer touring can still purchase some très Parisian holiday gifts for the Paris-ophiles in their life. The gifts range from Art books featuring recent exhibitions to Mariages Frères teas and include the Senat chairs from the Luxembourg gardens available in every color EXCEPT Luxembourg green. I’m guessing that’s for security reasons! And naturally, the Eau de Paris water carafés. So cheers, bottoms up and santé for a healthy, happy holiday season!

Talking about all those films yesterday had me humming to Les Parapluies de Cherbourg, the radiant smile of Catherine Deneuve like a benign Cheshire Cat in my mind. La grande dame was in another film recently, the light comedy, Les Potiches, which has he becoming the CEO of an umbrella factory. It’s a French thing, this obsession with umbrellas, probably directly related to the copious amounts of rain that fall from the heavens every year. Or perhaps its because in this style obsessed country, its just one more accessory to get excited over. One of the rare ones that men can enjoy as much as their Parisiennes.

For the ultimate in Haute Couture umbrellas, Heurault is the place to go. Each piece made with exotic handles and hand selected fabrics by artisans right here in their Paris atelier. The umbrellas are exquisite. They are also very expensive. Well beyond my mortal means, especially when the people I gift have a tendency to loose things. It would be a tragedy to loose one of these umbrellas, and nobody in my life needs that kind of stress right now.

Its hard to follow in those footsteps, but for a practical, everyday option, the folks at the Piganiol umbrella factory have been protecting the French from the rain since 1884, making solid, quality products that they stand behind. When the leash on my foldable Piganiol came undone, they told me to send it in and they’d fix it for free, which the did in a matter of weeks, sending it back to me by La Poste at their expense. Even more unbelievable… they offered to repair my umbrella when the pole was bent in the closed doors of a moving bus headed for the Ecole Militaire. 100% my fault, or rather Em’s, but certainly not theirs.

The short, wide form of the foldable version fits easily into most handbags, yet opens wide enough to cover a couple walking arm and arm along the streets, admiring the holidays lights in Paris, London, or your home town.

Make ’em laugh with a brilliant French comedy. Mon Onlce de Jaques Tati is so good its still on the shelves of the dvd department at the FNAC, while Tatie Danielle had me rolling in off the living room couch, tears rolling down me cheeks. I know that there is an amazing joke in this recommendation, what with Tati versus Tatie (granny) versus Oncle, but my mind is too dulled from the laughter to figure it out just now.

Other great French comedies include Rabbi Jacob, Bienvenue Chez le Chtis, and The Closet. I once had the honor of living a real life version of a French comedy, The Diner des Cons in which a group of sophisticated Parisians holds a monthly contest to see who can invite the biggest looser to dinner. And no, I was not the sophisticated Parisian doing the inviting. I was the invitee and I guess our hostess thought I was some kind of uneducated mouton from a distant back water that it would entertaining to have me around. I sat at the over stuffed, formal dinner table that evening, looking at the dozens of 19th century oil paintings of curvy nudes feeling like my spaceship had taken a wrong turn some time after Saturn. I was definitely on the wrong planet! I walked home that night, laughing at French humor, a great feeling and even better when you can share it someone for the holidays.

Do you have a favorite French comedy I have forgotten from the list? I’m looking for suggestions to get me through the holidays with a smile!!!

I have no idea how it is in the rest of the world, but growing up in California involves a great deal of time spent in one’s bare feet. In my world slippers were for pipe smoking Dads on the television. Guys with names like Ward or Darren. So it came something as a total shock to me when I moved to Montréal and discovered the sensation of cold feet. It was a traumatising thing for me, that bone chilling cold and it took me ages to discover that bare feet were no longer a option. I’d have to cover my rather sensitive, allergic to anything but Birkenstocks feet, or turn blue. It was a tough call. Eventually, I caved and started wearing socks around the house.

It was the perfect solution for a foot loose career girl who rarely spent more than an hour or two a day in her own home. That was 20 years ago. I now find myself spending entire days without being properly shod and after last winter spent eating holes into one pair of socks after the other, I realized it was time to go retro and get some proper slippers.

Cruising the web, I ran into this fun pair from Le Slip Français. “Slip” is French for underwear, and this place has lots of cute cotton stuff in the traditional French sailor stripes. At some point they started selling espadrilles, which must have led to these slippers, or perhaps the slippers came first. Who knows? What I do know is that the style is fresh, and fun and easy to wear and I can’t wait until my slippers show up at my door next week. Hopefully delivered by the extremely attractive model showing off the underwear on the home page. Its all reasonably priced and Made In France, well, except for the model. I have no idea where he was made.

Well, it’s really the 6th night tonight, but in the virtual world we can stop time like that. For the 3rd Perfectly Parisian Present, I’ve recently fallen under the spell of the shop selling figurines are the Palais Royale. Mr French and I have strolled by there a 100 times, on our way to the Comédie Française or for a stroll in the gardens of for little lèche vitrine activity at Didier Ludot’s Little Black Dress shop. When we’d pass by Les Drapeaux de France boutique and Mr French would slow down to look at all the figurines as I’d rush him along muttering “dust collectors” and “tourist trap” with him replying, “You’re a woman, you wouldn’t understand.”

The last time we walked past it was bitterly cold outside and I could tell there would be no hurrying Mr French, so I popped inside for some warmth. As I opened the glass door a man rushed out of a side door, nearly knocking me over. He immediately struck me as the Absent Minded Professor type. A man so passionate about what he does, he sometimes forgets about the rest of the world. The warm wooden floor was worn from decades of people lingering to admire the cluttered glass cases filled with familiar comic book characters, Christmas scenes, African safari animals and tin soldiers representing the armys of Europe. The boutique went from Tourist Trap to Sanctuary in my imagination and I started thinking in hushed tones.

And then I saw her. Alice, dueling it out with the Jabberwocky. And yelling at the Queen. There was the Mad Hatter, the Caterpillar, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, and a whole host of other characters from Wonderland, each one so beautifully painted I wanted to reach out and touch them. Mme Absent Minded was standing just behind me in the narrow space. I turned and started to ask about these flat tin (plat d’etain) objects in my best art gallery voice.

Mme turned to me brusquely, replying in a loud, exuberant voice that brought me back to reality reminding me that these are toys, meant to bring joy to children of all ages. I learned that most of what they have is made in Europe and almost all of it painted in France by a handful of artists, each with their own specialty. There is a Christmas lady, and several who only work on the soldiers. The shop also carries some more mass market products, but they are slowly phasing out their commercial “made in China” stock. Mme is just as passionate as Monsieur, who had met Mr French and the two of them were in a corner going into ecstasies over a series of trees.

I left with a small package in my hand, a new appreciation for tin soldiers and a bit of childish delight in my heart. I can’t imagine a better holiday gift than a bit of the youthful joy that surges up when looking at one of their unique miniatures.