Sometimes it’s important to disconnect and to live in the actual world. Versus the virtual. Those who are social media savvy know exactly what I mean! Feeling the need to connect myself with the living, in the form of my friends and family, I took off a few weeks and flew to New York.
First stop, my favorite place of carousing and chaos… Soho! Freedom tower in the distance.
Many of our days in New York City, with my Italian in tow, were spent in central park, beneath the sun, picnicing with friends or lost within a heavenly gray mist.
I could not wait to explore my old neighborhood, the Lower East Side, bustling with creative energy on every corner. Once a downtown girl… always.
These last few weeks were filled with memories. Precious time spent with my mom, both in the countryside where I was raised and in the city. Copious amounts of culture in the form of ballet, theatre, art, food… THIS is the New York I miss. But in the end, when I ran from one rendezvous to the next, catching up on lives from across the sea, wondering how I had managed to live for so long is this frenetic city, it dawned on me. A city is indeed a composition of it’s offerings but, most importantly, it’s people. And many of these people remain very dear to me.
Already, I look forward to the next visit. While happy to call Paris home.
Last week London called. I answered. A quick two hour jaunt via the Eurostar, and there I was.
This city that has always felt like home. Perhaps it’s the dynamic energy felt amidst the international air, much like NYC and certainly something I miss living within the calm and frenchness of Paris. The trip was one of business, as I’m currently working on a new hand-printed London Collection of handbags (where better to conduct market research?), had several shops and showrooms to meet, and equally one of pleasure. Many friends to catch up, exchanging a bottle of red for a pint of cider.
Home became close to Baker Street with a dear friend, Regents Park just minutes away.
I could not avoid central London…
What clever advertising! (Love the classic London cabs, preferably black.)
A walk around Sloane Square and into the world of eggs & Saatchi…
On my last morning I was given a tour of the colorfully posh Primrose Hill.
A walk along the canal beneath London skies, to Camden…
And back again from one world into another.
My trip happily ended in London’s evolving East, Shoreditch.
Since I was a little girl I always appreciated (and often preferred) the company of elders. If given the choice whether to play with kids my own age or accompany my mom to a friend’s, I usually chose the latter. Perhaps I knew early on how much more you can learn from those older and wiser.
During my colorful New York chapter there was one particular uniquely wise and eccentric woman I often encountered, also perhaps the oldest fashionista to grace the New York nightlife. I first met Zelda Kaplan during my film debut. Aren’t we all entitled to 15 minutes of fame? Along with many other young women we starred in a film directed by Elise Bennett, Beyond the Ladies Room Door. Incidentally, the screening took place close to home at the Hamptons Film Festival. It was a bonding experience, spending time getting to know so many woman, filming for days in a bathroom… Zelda being the wise sage we all sought advice from. A role well suited her.
I write this now in tribute to Zelda Kaplan who passed away last Wednesday, very fittingly in the front row of a fashion show, 95 years young, and filled with life. An example of how aging does not mean living any less vibrantly. Zelda always made a statement in remaining an individual. After all, she designed all her own clothes, very beautiful fabrics might I add, and lived by her own rules. And her advice was always worth listening to. “One must be interested in the world, not in one’s self.” Rest in peace, Zelda.
“Fantasies do come true. Despite my moments of uncertainty and pangs of loneliness, I was loving life in Paris. I was so smitten with the Gallic city’s grand, plane-tree-lined boulevards and ever-so-slightly crooked side streets, its countless café terraces and the ritual of lingering on them with a single café crème or coupe de champagne.” – Amy Thomas in Paris, My Sweet
photo by Lindsey Tramuta
Amy Thomas. A writer, ad girl and francophile from New York City with a highly refined palate (and appetite) for sweets. A woman after my own heart! As fate would have it, our paths were meant to cross in Paris, where she auspiciously found herself writing ad copy for prestigious client Louis Vuitton. Pas mal! Upon meeting Amy, I immediately sensed an authenticity in her character, natural warmth, and a passion for life. Yes, we would have been friends in New York. Getting to know Amy through our shared experience of Paris, only proved that my instincts were correct. On one of these occasions, during her Croissant Smackdown (a tasting of Paris’ best buttery delicacies), Amy mentioned that she was just awarded a book deal on a project she had been working on. Sweet! I couldn’t wait to read her memoir, as only a true New Yorker in Paris could tell it.
Needless to say, I inhaled the book, much like I would a box of macarons. Pierre Hermé or Laduree. It felt as though Amy were telling me her story in person, over a chocolat chaud. From nesting in her ‘tree house’ near rue Montorgueil to her many adventures sampling the best of Paris’ pâtisseries, via vélib’ bien sûr, to her endless attempts at finding her way into the core of a fascinating (and often challenging) city and the mind of its people. The tales are both sweet and savory, and worthy of being told, in a language and manner uniquely Amy. A lot of English, a bit of French, and all heart.
Though her experiences of Paris and New York, and often finding herself torn between the two (something I well understand) Amy has proven that you need not choose pleasure or success, beauty or energy, the macaron or the cupcake. You can indeed have it all, or at least taste it all, on either side of the Atlantic. Now then, where to find the best cupcake in Paris and macaron in New York? I believe the answer lies somewhere between chapters two and five…
A dinner organized by a host you don’t know, accompanied by guests who have never met, held at a mystery location somewhere in Paris. This sounds like my kind of dinner party.
An old friend recently mentioned the New Friends Table, a secret eating and meeting club new on the Paris scene. I had also read about it on the reputable HiP Paris blog. When two seats became available, I didn’t think twice. Somehow I knew I was in for a treat, without knowing much at all. The dining adventure began. My unassuming Italian and I were warmly welcomed by our gracious English hostess, the scene decoratively set. We immediately felt at home. The mingling began and toasts were made, as the guests continued to arrive. Each one of us a pawn in this mystery dinner game, creating a uniquely diverse yet equally open-minded dynamic. A table set by destiny.
The curious cast of characters spanned the globe including London, New York, Los Angeles and of course Paris. The hostess seated us according to her intuitive whim and the dinner began. The four hours to follow included divine compositions of the freshest cheeses, meats and seafood… each plate complimented not only by a glass of wine, but with a story from the engaging (and very witty) hostess and cuisinier. With each course we became better acquainted and shared stories of our own. And in this way, over a perfectly set table for ten, new friends were made. I’ve had many a mystery dinner thus far in my Paris life, this one by far being the most memorable.
For a seat at the table contact: newfriendstable@gmail.com and make sure to book well in advance… the secret is out!
Art has always provided a source of inspiration, particularly modern and contemporary. Where better to lose yourself but in the mind of an eccentric artist? Lucky for me, I have several friends who moonlight as art connoisseurs, not to mention the artists I have also come to know and collect. One such friend from the early days of New York’s GenArt, invited me to the preview of FIAC, Paris’s grand international contemporary art fair. A reunion at the Grand Palais, parfait!
What contemporary masterpieces did we find within this historic setting? Many.
