Monthly Archives: August 2013

Yuck!!!

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Maya Rose

There was no Friday Date Night. No, Mr French and I did not have a spat, although he did abandon me for the weekend on yet another one of his numerous business trips.

Instead of writing about a yet another memorable meal, I caught a virus. Or rather my blog did. And I had NO IDEA! Those nasty hackers are now infecting sites, so that even the administrators, non, especially the admins are not aware of it. FORTUNATELY this virus will NOT infect you or your computer. Its sole purpose in life is to infect blogs for Google ratings to increase (in my virus’ case) Viagra sales! so YOU ARE 100%SAFE .

Fortunately YOU are a GREAT bunch of readers and several of you sent me an email letting me know your access was blocked. MILLE MERCIS for that. Sincerely!Now that I have become something of an expert, I’d like to share a little health ed with all my blogger friends out there. 1/ 80% of all blogs get infected because the blogger (in this case moi) did not upgrade to the latest version of Blogger/WordPress or whatever platform you are using. Stay with the times, my friends and update when ever possible.
2/ What to do if you do get infected? There are tons of articles available online that teach you how to back up your blog, rout out the bugs and get it up and running again. For a pro it takes just a few hours. Knowing myself, it would have taken me a few days. Non stop, around the clock and much of it angst ridden. I needed a Plan B, aka a hired gun. This is a scary concept because you have to give a total stranger access to your blog and your ftp code. I went into research mode and found Jim from HackRepair.com. His prices are somewhere in between the bargain basement folks working from far off outposts and the more local “studios”. For a bit more confidence in his legit-itude, I found some review on him and his work, then I called and we had a little chat. Once I’d paid for his service, he started sending me emails with regular updates of what was going on. This is usually a two hour process, but I was missing a key password and the GoDaddy server went down. He kept me calm throughout it all and within fours, it was done.
I verified that everything was clean using a Google service and UnmaskParsites.com. I then reached out to the readers who had warned me in the first place. They confirmed that all was well in my little world. So thank you Jim, and to all of you for your support, and your patience…. I’ll be back tomorrow and next Friday I promise a date to remember. A date night at one of the Top Ten Best Restaurants in the World. Yum!!!

The King’s garden

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A few weeks ago I had access to a car, a rare moment for me in Paris. Reveling in the glorious summer weather, I was ready for adventure so I called my friend Mary Kay from Out and About in Paris and suggested we visit Le Potager du Roi at Versailles. Being and Out and About kind of gal, she was game and we were off… After a brief detour getting lost through Issy les Moulineaux, Vroooommmmm, we cruised through the Ile de France countryside, arriving at the royal city at a record slow pace.

I love Versailles. There is history, with a rich blend of beauty and nature. Paris in slow motion.   “Why do you want to go to the Potager?” Mary Kay asked. “I don’t know,” I shrugged, “I’ve wanted to visit for years, but have never found the time.”

A potage is a soup, a potager is a kitchen garden. Built on a parcel of land known as The Stinky Pond at the request of  Louis XIV in the 17th century, the kitchen garden is now the National School of Landscape Architecture and has been open to the public since 1991. The garden hasn’t changed much over the last 300 years. There is an inspirational collection of heirloom pear trees, splayed like Malibu sunbathers in espallier.

Parts of the gardens are an odd disappointment, like the melon gardens that are now covered by green houses and the fig gardens that are now administrative offices for the school. Others are pure magic; the secret garden we wandered into with a dwarf’s cabin, picnic table and noose hanging from a tree. The most opulent detail must be the King’s gate, which was used by Louis himself and is one of the few original gates on the entire estate. Bleeding heart Californians like moi will be thrilled to see that there is a compost site, a bee hive and an emphasis on seducing beneficial bugs. Mary Kay asked me again (and maybe even a third time) “Why did you want to come here?” I think that all my talk of YSL jackets and art exhibits must give folks the wrong idea. While I am undeniably a city gal, I’ve got the heart of a country girl and I love a good kitchen garden.

The boutique is great, too. Fresh fruits and vegetables directly from the garden are put out every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. There are packets of dried herbs, rhubarb nectar and Marie’s favorite tea. Everything homegrown and healthy to enjoy!

After our adventurous morning, Mary Kay and I had developed something of an appetite. we asked the cashier at the boutique for a recommendation and he sent us to the  Monument Café across the street. The café hich features produce from the gardens, presenting everything in a appetizingly displayed all you can eat buffet. This is as rare as the sun in France, so we made a feast of it, savouring all their specialties, which included confit de canard, gaspacho and an exotic fruit panna cotta. If the great food is not enough, tourists can organize private tours of the neighborhood, running tours and even purchase advance tickets for Chateau tours through the café. We left quoting Arnold, “We’ll be back…”

Le Smoking

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Just before the holidays Mr French came home from a business trip, a page of Le Figaro grasped tightly in his hand. I offered him only the briefest of kisses, mostly because he smelled of canned air, but also because I was mad with curiosity. What had he seen in print? Was it the latest dream hotel? Had my blog been “discovered” and I was at last famous (lol)?

Coming back to reality, the article was infinitely more interesting than I had imagined; an entire page dedicated to Yves Saint Laurent, Catherine Deneuve and Le Smoking, aka the tuxedo jacket. Mr French recently survived a petit ordeal with me and Le Smoking so he was aware that it is something of an obsession of mine…

The article reminds the reader of how Monsieur Saint Laurent revolutionized the fashion world when he introduced Le Smoking for women in 1966. It features a photo by Helmut Newton of YSL with Madame Deneuve when they posed for a cover of ELLE magazine to celebrate the 20 year anniversary of YSL Haute Couture.

I had been so obsessed with the insanely sexy, subtly elegant jacket that over the last decade that I would secretly pop into the YSL boutique once or twice a year just to try it on. Which was a bit nutty, because I do not have that kind of budget. But the staff never seemed to mind and would agree with me as I’d appreciate the master tailoring, the luxurious wool, the perfect fit. When I was down, or tired, the vision of me in the shop mirror wearing The Jacket would boost my spirits, give me confidence.

And then we were invited to a party in Venice and I thought that at last, I had an excuse for Le Smoking, so I headed to the Place Saint Sulpice to see what was available. Turns out that while I’d been out living my life, YSL had hired a new creative director, Hedi Slimane who had changed the label’s name and the cut of the tuxedo jacket! It was no longer fitted at the waist, the shoulder pads had disappeared and the fabric was just not the same. It looked schlubby on me. I was flabbergasted, distraught and slightly dismayed.

Several weeks later I was in their men’s shop running an errand. As I waited for the clerk to prepare a package, I started complaining to the manager. I was unhappy about the name change, I was upset about Le Smoking. Saint Laurent employees are extremely proud of their brand and Monsieur le manager was no exception. He kindly took the time to explain that Hedi Slimane had not committed a sacrilegious act by offing the Yves from Yves Saint Laurent. Au contraire, he was paying hommage to the legendary designer by using the original name and logo designed for the Haute Couture house before it gained international acclaim.

I was enjoying the conversation. I started asking about Le Smoking. Did monsieur know of anyone specializing in the resale of vintage YSL? Non, madame. Was there any chance an older model could be found abandoned in some stockroom in Paris? Je suis désolé Madame. Perhaps their China store would have it? Maybe the foreign addresses get the older stock?

Oh, does Madame travel? Well, yes, as a matter of fact, she does. Which is when the manager told me about a Saint Laurent outlet in the UK and another in Italy. Oh, and by the way, he had shipped off the very last of anything with a YSL label their way just last week. Hopeful excitement bubbled up through me, as a goofy grin spread across my face.

The next day I called the Italy store. Not only did they have the jacket in my size, but  the price had just been marked down an additional 40% off the 40% of the 40% discount, so I could afford it. It was time to ‘fess up to Mr French before hitting the SEND button. “You’re nuts,” he stated in utter dismay. “You can’t be sure it will fit and you have no idea what it looks like on you.” Which is when I had to come clean about those quirky little visits of mine. Fortunately, he is La Fashionista’s dad, so he has had enough fashion adventures that he didn’t suggest a psychiatric review. At least not immediately.

Then, like magic, several days later Le Smoking arrived chez moi and it is perfect.

As a side note, Le Smoking is very in this fall, but there is no reason it should be signed YSL. I’ve seen some gorgeous ones at every price point, from Zara to Zadig & Voltaire. Looks great worn with jeans and a white tank top!

Date Night – Pâtisserie des Rêves

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If there is anything that Mr French loves nearly as much as me and his family, it would have to be ice cream. Every night after dinner he asks what flavours ice cream are in the house. And almost every night I have to inform him that there is an ice cream shortage chez nous, I’ve prepared strawberries. Or watermelon, or any other fruit that happens to be in season.

Not that I’m a mean control freak, or anything. Ok, well, I kind of am. But the reason I never buy ice cream is that once its in the house, I eat it. All of it. I simply can’t resist. It has become my out of the house treat. By necessity. Which make Mr French something of an avid collector.

This Saturday, he noticed that La Pâtisserie des Rêves on the rue du Bac now serves ice cream. I am not sure how he figured it out. There is just a small sign in a corner window. But he saw it and was in Philippe Conticini’s swanky little pastry shop before I could tempt him away with promises of my own sweet nothings.

Usually I avoid this pastry shop. The chef is a genius but waiting in line with a crowd of Japanese tourists puts me off and the desserts are individually displayed under glass bells, as if they were jewels instead of cakes, which kills the childhood delight of it for me. But even I have to admit, everything he makes it stupendous.

The ice creams are soft serve and available in three flavours. Tarte au citron, Paris-Brest or St Honoré. What makes them so special and maybe even worth a special trip are the extra touches. I ordered the Tarte au Citron and was surprised to see the sales lady scoop a bit of graham cracker-y crumble into the bottom of the cup, we were both drawn in as she swirled the tart, lemony ice cream on top and by the time she added the lemon sauce we were bouncing on our heels in anticipation.

It was perfect; a gingery crunch with a hint of salt, an ice cream so light it felt like a sorbet and a marvelously zesty lemon flavour through it all. And on that sweet note, I leave you for a summer break with the family. Wishing you all plenty of sunshine and lots of ice cream!!!

La Vie Romantique…

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I can’t speak for every French man, I’ve only dated a few, but living with my French man has been somewhat, dare I say très, romantique….. Not that he should get all the credit for it. I mean, how hard can it be to make a girl’s heart swoon when the stage set is on a café terasse, a flûte of champagne on the table, cobbled stones lay below and a church is lit in the background? And if he’s really luck a jazz band will set up, providing the perfect sound track, leaving very little work for him to do in the wooing department. Occasionally he goes a little bit further, offering me romantic cards calling me his dear, his bunny, his cabbage and his flea. Or coming home with a blue heart shape album of Elvis Presley songs that you can listen to on my Facebook page.

It’s a lovely rêverie, but the Musée de la Vie Romantique isn’t about that kind of romantic, its about the Romanticism cultural movement of the 19th century. It is the movement that brought us artistic geniuses like Beethoven, Liszt, Turner and Constable. In France, Géricault, Delacroix, Chopin, de Musset and George Sand were all part of this era, and the museum is dedicated to them. Particularly to Madame George Sand who wrote over thirty novels and whose collection of art and artifacts fills two rooms.

As an idea, Romanticism was a revolt against Industiralization and confining social norms, in practice it inspired everything from politics to the arts to the sciences. As far as home decor was concerned, this was a very dark period, with rich, deep colors in a conflicting patterns filling rooms to suffocation. And they had odd habits, like making jewelery out of human hair. It is all very normal with a slight tinge of the horrific. It is not surprising that this period inspired works like Dracula and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

Outside the museum guests can enjoy tea or a light snack under white parasols in the rose encircled gardens, reminding one of the more contemporary definition of Romantic….

ps, Impromptu is a great movie about George Sand and her torrid relationship with Chopin.

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