Oh how the days fly by...

On Friday morning I checked out Paris' annual Agricultural Exposition as I had won a free pass courtesy of an IES raffle. A tradition since 1964, the salon caters mainly to the general public, but also attracts agricultural experts from all over the world. I must say I was a bit underwhelmed for several reasons. Firstly, I do not much enjoy crowds, and I should have known better than to go to a massive fair. It was much like any festival in Seattle, except people were dressed a bit nicer and generally were not as fat. There was an equal number of screaming children and pushy mothers, however. I did not see a single cow, but I did see a bit of a dog show (depressing) and pedigree cats in cramped glass aquarium-like containers (so depressing that I left immediately). The best part of the fair were the food samples (every variety of meat, cheese, macaron, wine, fois gras--ick, and jam). I am glad I got to check it out, but after about ninety minutes of shoving crowds and irritable servers, I had had enough.

That evening I had delicious Mexican food at a place called El Sol y La Luna, followed by more margaritas, followed by my first viewing of the Notre Dame. It was beautifully illuminated in the nighttime and in my drunken revelry, I could not help but force my friendles to pose for some pix. Later that night, I also ate my first crepe, a mere 45 days into my stay in Paris.

Today was a day of such laziness and luxury that I am almost too embarrassed to write about it. But then I remembered how little shame I have and decided it would be better to share with all three (five? six????) of my readers. I woke up late in my cave of a room (I can draw the special window blinds down so tight that virtually no sunlight shines through) and ate breakfast while watching some American TV (blessed internet). I showered, pranced around, looked outside, made tea. I met my friend Kate for some amazingly thick hot chocolate in the Marais district, and then Kiley and I set off to discover a new region of the 3eme arrondissement. After locating one of our new favorite places in all of Paris (bonton--most simply explained as a designer lifestyle for children and infants including furniture, decor, clothing, barbershop, and art gallery), we sashayed into Merci, another swanky ass concept shop much like "bonton" but for the grownups. I was somewhat surprised I did not run into any minor celebrities in there. It was upscale to the point that I was nearly too ashamed to ask the cashier for help. I left with a small bottle of fantastically fresh perfume "Eau de Charlotte," which can only be described as the melding of scents of lychee fruit and powdered baby bottoms.

I was conflicted. Yes, it was beyond ridiculous that people spent 33 euro on a designer salad strainer and that pencils came with erasers at the top in shades of buff, mauve, and yellow ochre, and slate. Yes, it was beyond reproachable that mothers should spend over 90 euro for their two year old's trousers which the wearer would outgrow within a matter of weeks. Yes, I realized that there was absolutely no real-world application of color-coded spoon organizers or yarn holders or chandeliers that produced no light. But what about all of this made it so deliciously appealing? My guess is that the allure lies in the simplicity of the design. The designers take the most critical elements such as color and form and do as little as possible with them, thereby creating irresistibly charming pieces that beg to be touched, picked up, and mentally placed into a picture-perfect living room/kitchen/bathroom. If there's anything you want for your home, it's for it to be a beautiful, practical space. I must therefore stay away from Merci and the likes of it until I have all of the above: a) a baby; b) tons of money.