Victor Hugo believed that a city that respects itself makes you feel a child of her own…
And even if you don’t have blood ties, you can develop οψίμως ties by marriage, to feel a kinship with the strangers who walk beside you in the street.
Διακατεχόμενη from this, possibly, distorted belief of the “point”, observing the Parisians that pass me by in the Rue Saint Honore. As in some places of New York city, it’s people who want to present the best version of themselves. Well-groomed. Without blatant faith in fashion, but definitely with a wink to the elegance. And with the treacherous inner voice that whispers in the ear: “The good things in life are right in front of your eyes. Look”. And it really is there.
To as the amazing lilliputian shop of the hotel Costes, which sells the most beautiful wheel in the world. Chosen one by one, featured in the black window, so plump and tender, you want to kiss their shoes. When you cross the threshold of the flower shop, here it comes, the blast of this fragrance, the musky smell of old roses, a blow in the nostrils.
After the heady punch, out παÏαζαλισμÎνα on the road where the torture of the smells is milder. Every so διασταυÏώνεσαι with someone who leaves behind a new λεπταίσθητο olfactory footprint. If in Athens dominated by two or three fragrances of the train, to Paris transform temporarily into a young greyhound who is tormented by a variety of stimuli. Heading to the Place Vendome, the parfums dissolve in the air and make an invisible mesh. Paris is the only city that can give the geographical position solely with the sense of smell.
And the flavor –alas!– I don’t go back. But not alone. The waiters know that, before they can get a nice steak tartare that has the tang of κάπαÏης, you first need to have been appease with a mature Bordeaux, to have placed in a theatrical way, the starters, the baguettes, the linen napkins. On a good brasserie, the staff treats you (hypocritically it? I don’t care), like to serve someone very important and we must all together to stand at the height of the rules of the rite.
I love the Vagenende in Saint Germain, for the patina of time have the walls, nice tile floor, soft art nouveau cavities that make up a little scene on the plates with the oysters. The atmosphere is pleasant, like the old houses that have been heard millions of laughs, joys, and words. The bites have compressed time. How nice it is to eat in places that have a history, as this is the restaurant that rescued the same Malraux. Without him, would be demolished to become a supermarket.
Proust and Chanel
Last taste of my discovery, is the famous Angelina, where once he used Proust (a good indication, since it was candy man) and Coco Chanel (weird, because it was impossible). The Rivoli is famous for its chocolat material which appears. Inside the place is full and the trays with the sweets and the coffee swirling in the aisles and the customers are tweeting cute, making a pleasant quiet noise.
Paris may goes hand in hand with the small everyday luxuries, but has yet to sell his soul to the tourists, although it is one of the leading travel destinations in the world. Venice, this bargain between daytime and evening classes of countries such as said Goethe, has been assigned a rather high fee to it’s guests. London to the insanely wealthy inhabitants, mostly Russians or Arabs. But the French capital belongs to all. And in this medley of people circulating in the streets, I feel a bit of my home country.
Source
The good stuff is in front of you
—