Every morning we faced the same struggle: lounge around in our fabulous apartment, or drag ourselves out into the melée that is Paris? Abandoning yesterday’s croissants in anticipation of a slightly more substantial entrée, we departed our pied-à-terre with barely a glance to the stairway left behind.
Struggle number two was the tug of our empty bellies versus the necessity of admiring and photographing every detail of Parisian architecture standing between us and lunch.
It’s a good thing the balconies were so far up or we would have had to photograph them in minutia, too. The ground level décor already kept us to a snail’s pace.
At a glance, the buildings all look alike, but the details are completely unique. That explains the 3,800 photos I took.
A. Sauvage, Architecte, and your contemporary 1894 cronies, I salute you! I applaud your fol-de-rol, your petrified florals, your symbolic balconies, your disembodied heads.
Why is everything built now the same? Is it the lack of skilled labor or just a cost-saving measure? Surely people wealthy enough to build urban townhouses have pocket change for embellishment, but they invariably choose a sleek, pared down, almost austere facade. Less is more. Well, I’m glad the French didn’t have that attitude.
Wrought iron isn’t uniquely French, there is plenty in Italy, Spain, and Portugal. I don’t recall seeing so much art deco style there, though. Certainly when the iron mongers were working in New Orleans they mostly kept to a traditional floral-based theme. The Parisian workers seem to have evolved their style to the era. (Do I have any architecture historians out there who would like to comment?)
In our lovely neighborhood, even the most mundane equipment was thoughtfully designed. I’m not certain it was so thoughtful to have the downspouts end over the sidewalk, but they are very beautiful.
This ornament (Do these have a name?) sits astride a garage entrance. Inside the garage, the foundation narrows, and these ornaments warn the driver that the car might not fit if it can’t squeeze past the little entry demon.
Yes, there was shopping. Check out this beautiful window display of perfume. Window shopping in French is called “lèche-vitrine,” or “window licking.”
That term probably originated as a result of the pastry shop windows.
French food is fabulous, of course. Nothing over-rated about it, but our downfall was the desserts. No wonder the buildings were so beautifully decorated. That’s just French Mode.
It was our sworn duty to order dessert with every meal. How else would we manage to try every fantabulous offering?
Tourist shopping areas were not so fancy, and there were no windows to lick. This was near the Eiffel Tower, surely the ultimate tourist attraction. I was going to say in Paris, but anywhere, really. Is there a more identifiable monument than the Eiffel Tower anywhere in the world?
The first of many scarf vendors. I must have eventually bought half a dozen, but the cheesy one I bought for €2.5 at this stand was the one I wore most often. I swear it went with everything in my suitcase.
So, yes, here is one of our first desserts. This is at a little sidewalk cafe near our apartment. We went back there later in the visit, but we weren’t home very often at dinner time!
And this is the view of the Eiffel Tower from the end of our street, just across the Seine from home. That’s the Métro viaduct blocking our view of the base. If you want to see more Eiffel Tower photos, stay tuned!
OMG, those pastries! I was litterally drooling. I so miss the european bakeries.