Ten Years in Paris

Ten years ago, I bid farewell to the life I had known for over a decade in New York City, to the friends I knew I would hold on to, to the career I had excelled in, and to the city that had taught me so many invaluable lessons. I dove into a new life with a man I had met only months prior but trusted with all my heart. And so began my journey of love in the City of Lights, and this blog. Today I reflect on these past ten years and what I have learned by choosing to live a soul-centered life.

Most importantly, while I’m a full-fledged romantic who grew up believing that love serves as fuel, it’s up to us to find this love within ourselves. I’m forever grateful and appreciative for the adoration of my Italian, but it is self-love that truly fuels me.

This too applies to happiness. As much as I thrive on traveling and discovering new cultures or reveling in those that are close to my heart (ciao Italia!), happiness is not a place, nor is it a person. Happiness is a choice. And sometimes it’s as simple as watching the sunset over Notre Dame, or anywhere for that matter.

When I first moved to Paris I thought much like a New Yorker. How can I achieve success, how can I become something? Given the difficulty in finding work in my field, every day I would come up with a new business plan. It was when I let go of the ego and allowed my soul to soar that I discovered my path. This is how my namesake handbag business came to life and why I became a writer. I still think like a New Yorker, it’s in my composition, after all, but it’s now about becoming in my own eyes, not in those of anyone else.

Another life lesson that I’ve learned through this decade in Paris is that some people are meant to remain in our lives while others quite simply are not. As a Leo with loyalty in my core, I cherish the friendships that have grown with me through the years, both in Paris and around the world, and let go of those that haven’t.

Perhaps one of the most important lessons that I’m still learning is that of acceptance. While I may never understand the way Parisians think, or how and why they behave the way they do, which also applies when immersed in other cultures, the key is to accept them. We are all different, as my Italian often reminds me.

Lastly, this past decade in Paris has strengthened my notion that we must live by our own rules and remain strong in our intentions. Before I left New York to travel the world in 2007, would I ever have believed that years later I’d be living such a blessed life? Yes. Dreams do come true when we believe in them.

The Heart of Paris

How fortunate I am to live within such close proximity to this 12th-century 850-year-old Gothic masterpiece. In tribute to this sacred lady, rightfully the very heart of Paris set on Île de la Cité, badly damaged in yesterday’s fire but remaining miraculously intact, I share a few thoughts and images from the past nine years. Walking through Notre Dame‘s gardens, or catching a glimpse while returning home from dinner on the left bank, always fills me with a feeling of profound peace. Within her welcoming doors, I become entranced by the history, the spirituality, the sense of belonging.

My first Christmas in Paris, she graced us with midnight mass as we sat in the second row, our spirits soaring high amidst a chorus of blessings. Last year we had the good fortune to watch the annual light show on the cathedral’s facade, what a spectacular sight!

Climbing 422 steps to the top of Notre Dame’s towers, I beheld the most stunning views of Paris. Undoubtedly my favorite vantage point in which to inhale the city, along with the gargoyles.

I can’t count the number of long, leisurely picnics spent on Île Saint-Louis, the bells of Notre Dame Cathedral providing our soundtrack as we admired her glowing beneath the late summer sun.

Cherished memories. Our four-year anniversary photo shoot with Chloe Lodge was shared with this sacred lady.

Whenever I catch sight of Notre Dame Cathedral I know exactly where I am, as she represents the heart of Paris.

This view that I have seen and admired countless times, will forever symbolize Paris to me. I know and pray that the heart of the city will continue to beat, as vibrantly as ever.

To donate to the restoration of Notre Dame Cathedral, head over to Friends of Notre Dame or Fondation du Patrimoine.

New Year Intentions

A new year has begun. And with it come resolutions. Or do they? I’ve stopped resolving to do and to be (or not to do and to be), and instead I create intentions. Is this an easy way out of making (and sticking to) resolutions? Actually, I think it’s an even stronger way to resolve to do and to be. So, what are these intentions for the months and years ahead? I’m sharing them in case you too would like to partake in my intentions, or to create your own. After this I’ll be back to blogging about Paris and travels, don’t worry.

  • Eliminate negative energy. We all know what feels good, and who aids in elevating those good feelings.
  • Focus more on how you view yourself, and less on how you think the world views you.
  • Develop a spiritual practice in which to communicate with God or the universe. And speak to your hearts content.
  • Take time to simply be. To see the world around you and to enjoy what is, rather than thinking of what could or should be.
  • Know that happiness is often a choice. And choose it. And know that it’s not up to anyone or anything to provide it. Also know that it’s okay to have bad moments. That’s called life.

Any of your own intentions to share? I’d love to hear them!

Finding Purpose in Paris

To end the year, I’m sharing a post I wrote for Urbansider, a new Paris insider’s guide that I’m proud to be a part of. As one of their first ‘Urbansiders’ I wrote about my experience of moving to Paris, already nine years ago, and how I slowly but resolutely found my way. I welcome you to read more of my Urbansider articles here. 

It was my first week in Paris. A new chapter was about to be written, and it was up to me how the pages would be filled. The late summer sun teased me with endless sunsets in hues of pink and gold. I walked along the Seine wrapped in love, the kind that resides within and often takes years to discover. My journey had taken me around the world and back again, with Paris as my new backdrop, and a soulful Italian center stage.

My thoughts were only of the present moment. What I had lived and learned years prior was now part of my rich and varied history. This life that I had often dreamt about was my present. In all truth, a gift. The future yet unknown, filled with endless possibilities, was waiting in the wings to reveal itself.

Those first weeks quickly turned into months, as leaves fell and blue skies turned gray. My mood too, changed with the seasons as I tried to understand who I was in this new life. More accurately, who did I want to become? I spent those early days coming to peace with my ego and listening more acutely to my soul. Paris was the stage on which to set my dreams in motion, this I was certain of. The question remained, how?

Little by little I found my way, a stranger in a foreign land. Courage was my guide and humility became my teacher. I began to create a name for myself, to design my namesake handbags, to write a blog, and soon afterward to publish articles; to find my place and purpose. In so doing I became my truest self. And for this, I will be forever grateful to Paris.

Father’s Day

Today would have been my father’s birthday. Very often it fell on Father’s Day, giving us even more reason to celebrate. My dad was a special man, and not because he was mine but because he possessed one of the kindest and most generous hearts, was filled with wit and humor, was immensely intelligent, and loved people, all of them. Most of all, he adored my mother and his two children. He and my mother met in London and fell in love instantly. Three months later they began their life in the Hamptons. Marrying later in life, he never suspected he’d be a father. He was one of the best.

We lost him to a terminal illness 27 years ago, yet not a day passes in which I don’t think of this sweet man and know that he is with me. My dad was American, a New Yorker, but was deeply devoted to both France and Italy. I know on an instinctual level that he has been guiding my life, watching over me as he had done since childhood. When I moved to New York City to start my adult life, he was with me. When I traveled the world for 13 months, he was with me. When I met my Italian on the street in Soho, he was with me. When I feel doubt or fear, he helps to relieve my mind. As does my beloved mother in the living, so does my father in his passing.

My father continues this journey with me now, sharing my life between Paris and the Italian Riviera, two places that were very close to his heart. I know that he is smiling from above, pleased to see his daughter living as he would have liked me to, by my heart. And sharing this life with a soulful man very much like him. I’m certain they would have adored one another.

My dad was a writer, and the joy I feel in writing is shared with him, connecting us on an even deeper level. I like to believe he sends me words when I need them. And shares in my achievements.

For all of you blessed to share this day, and all the days to follow, with your fathers, enjoy! And those whose fathers too have passed, know that they are always with you.

highs and lows

In light of all the silent suffering going on in the world, I have a few thoughts to share in hopes that those reading my blog, on which I choose to focus on the lighter side of life, and other social media platforms which appear to paint such a ‘perfect picture’, understand that we are all connected by the same thread. And this grand tapestry of life is filled with holes, some better patched than others. Some not at all obvious. Some in need of a little, or a lot of mending.

As much as I can’t accept why people who seemingly have everything (family, fame, success, relationships, fulfillment…) choose to end their lives, I can actually understand how they feel, or rather, felt. Maybe many of us can.  Personally, I’ve experienced tough moments in life where I’ve felt very much alone, disconnected from life so to speak. Desperate to feel whole. Why? Who knows where it comes from. There were nights in New York, in between those filled with friends and frivolity, that I would walk around my neighborhood, look up at the skyscrapers and think of how insignificant we all were. I’d wonder,  could no one else feel this? Some of these sad days would last for weeks and eventually I would reach out to friends or family and continue on my way.

As low as I sometimes felt, I knew life was worth fighting for, even if simply for the sake of a better day. It helps that I’m an optimist and choose to search for the beauty in the world. Even when it felt like there wasn’t any.

Now, when I walk around Paris and notice a face with downcast eyes, I offer an understanding smile, an attempt to let them know that it will be okay. If only we could all do that, smile at one another, it can’t hurt. Life is filled with highs and lows, suffering to different degrees is universal, and we must do whatever we need to fight for the highs. And most importantly, know that there are many out there who understand.

1 2 3 4 … 14