Paris never ceases to amaze me.
The architechture, the intricate details of each and every little (and large) thing constructed in this city, the lights and sounds of Champs-Elysees, the boutiques along (and off) Rue St. Honore, the glamour of Place Vendome… I’m trying to digest and absorb as much as I want but this city is just pure sensory overload!
If Paris is sensory overload to me, then I must be sensory overload to them.
I’m telling you…. I walked for about 4-5 hours and no less than a hundred of Parisian boys (and men) from all walks of life whether rich, poor, groomed, business-man suited or public works (one of them is a garbage truck driver and another one was a delivery person) waved, hissed, smiled, winked, "blown a kiss", whistled, stopped, looked, said "hi!" and screamed "where are you from?". I’m sure it’s this exotic piece of brown ass that they want to fuck.
Let them eat cake!
Boulangerie et Patisserie rather.
Beat That, Oprah!
I saw this teeny, tiny, unknown-to-most-folks, shop while strolling around along Rue St. Honore.
Most of the other shops were closed because it was rather late.
I stopped to look at the windows and saw there was 1 guy (presumably store manager/sales staff). I opened the door and being the gentleman, he let me in.
I told him I’m looking for x bag in x color. He brought it, I didn’t like it and asked for another color.
After a minute or two, I said, "I’ll take it". We chatted where I get my Goyard, I said Harvey Nicks HK.
I asked him, "what time do you usually close? I’d love to come back tomorrow."
Then he said "Normally at 7, but you’re special so I’ll open the door for you."
Tina asked the gorgeous man as to what time it was… the guy said it’s 8:20PM
I giggled like a school girl and whispered to my gal pal Tina
"Beat That, Oprah!"
Meet my latest acquisition.
It’s 6:35AM here in Paris. I’m going back to bed.