Parisienne
posted by Diane @ 10:46 AM
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[narcissism, vanity, exhibitionism, ambition, vanity, vanity, vanity]
16.4.08
Guimauves
How Parisians love their guimauves (marshmallows)! Flavors, from left: green tea, saffron and pimiento, rose water.
Labels: paris
posted by Diane @ 10:45 AM
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Menkes
For all your cross-dressing and flamenco dancing needs. Which are apparently substantial enough to support a nice little shop right here in the 3rd. Oh, Paris!
Labels: paris
posted by Diane @ 10:43 AM
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I Can't Believe It's Midnight
posted by Diane @ 10:40 AM
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The Luckless Mouton
posted by Diane @ 10:38 AM
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Interior Designer Goes Crazy
posted by Diane @ 10:37 AM
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Waiting Is the Hardest Part
Jane waits for her pot of insanely thick and rich hot chocolate (served with a bowl of butter, I mean whipped cream) at Angelina's. We also ordered macaroons and ice cream. It is probably no coincidence that this is the only place Jane deigned to speak French during her visit. If there's no hot chocolate, no macaroons, no ice cream -- what's the point?
Labels: paris
posted by Diane @ 10:36 AM
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Un Philosophe dans Les Philosophes
MJ philosophizes at Les Philosophes. I forget what he is talking about. Mais, pas de quoi!
MJ hearts Paris.
Labels: paris
posted by Diane @ 10:32 AM
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This Is the Small Bottle
posted by Diane @ 10:29 AM
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So Many Wines, So Little Time
You know how, in American grocery stories, there are whole aisles devoted to salty snacks? Same thing in Paris, only it's wine on the shelf, not Fritos. This is a tiny grocery store in our neighborhood.
Labels: paris
posted by Diane @ 10:26 AM
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Pyramide des Macarons
posted by Diane @ 10:24 AM
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A Quiet Moment
...In the Tuilieres. Afterward, she bounced for fifteen straight minutes on the trampoline, drank a big cup of hot chocolate, and fell asleep in the cab on the way home.
Labels: paris
posted by Diane @ 10:23 AM
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Another Guiding Spirit.
This is the guiding spirit who shows up after the, uh, spirits and makes you fall off the banquette. Not that I would know anything about it.
Labels: paris
posted by Diane @ 10:21 AM
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15.4.08
Working on Her SAT Vocabulary
In the rue de Vieille Temple, as I am gawping at the merchandise at the Marvelous Shoe Store, Jane says, "I bet you don't know what bats eat."
"No," I say absently, because I am converting euros to dollars and the result is incroyable. "What do they eat?"
"Mosquitoes, and other assorted insects."
"Oh! How useful. I love how you use the word 'assorted,' by the way."
"Thanks," Jane says. "I've been working on it for a while."
posted by Diane @ 8:49 AM
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Only in the Marais
As if this striped armchair were not enough to induce a headache, in place of a throw pillow it had been adorned with a stuffed squirrel -- and I don't mean en peluche. Has Little My left Moomin Valley, and gotten herself a job as a Paris shopgirl?
The rest of the display was relentlessly normal.
Labels: paris
posted by Diane @ 3:46 AM
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13.4.08
Ma fille, avec biro.
posted by Diane @ 7:58 AM
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A Different Time
posted by Diane @ 7:57 AM
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Tucked in an Alcove at the Hôtel de Ville
The historian Jules Michelet, a guiding spirit. "There I walked, from age to age..."
Labels: jane, paris, travels with jane
posted by Diane @ 7:52 AM
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10.4.08
April in Paris, Not a Moment Too Soon
I wonder if there are any more romantic words in the English language than the ones I am about to say.
I am off to Paris for a while.
Not taking much -- a notebook, pens, a camera, a few euros.
Il suffisait de te parler ...
Labels: paris
posted by Diane @ 1:40 PM
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WHO'S RESPONSIBLE
Hi! I'm Diane Greco, and you are looking at my seven year-old exercise in narcissism, vanity, exhibitionism, ambition, vanity, vanity, and, of course, vanity.More specifically, here is where I stash links, funny ideas, stories about my kid, notes on what I'm reading, practical reflections, reports from other places, e.g., Russia, Japan, China, Paris, and Iceland, and other miscellaneous junk.
I am a writer. That's me, right there, writing in a restaurant. I've just finished a novel, EASY JOURNEYS TO OTHER PLANETS, about a group of friends hailing from the deceptive, complicated fastnesses of middle America, who struggle to come of age during 1967's Summer of Love. I've also got a collection of short stories concerning generally unreliable DICTATION (is there any other kind?), and a nonfiction book about the fortunes of an Egyptian antiquity smuggled into 19th-century Paris. Caveat lector: this blog's free, including free of advertising. Comments are open; we'll see how this goes. Email at ping DOT diane AT gmail DOT com.
Previous Posts
- RIP, Rocco Carbone
- It's the Little Things
- Mostly Fits
- RIP, Tom Disch
- NYC-LHR via Telectroscope
- Greener Electricity
- My Life Expectancy is 102
- RIP, Esmin Green
- Rain!
- My Deficiencies
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