When I first arrived in Paris in 2003, I was young, naive and green. The city’s beauty literally floored me and I spent much of my first visit being a flâneur, silent and awestruck by the broad boulevards, les petites jardins and the grand, beautiful buildings. And stuffing myself full of pastries and baguettes.
On my recent visit almost a decade later, a more experienced and mature me was less dumbfounded but no less in awe. Even in the melancholy depths of winter, the greyness of the skies – and the pale European sunshine when it breaks through – enhances the delicate lines of the buildings and its the streets. And the city’s inhabitants? C’est chic, bien sûr. Parisian fashion is not showy or flamboyant. But the surprising colour of a scarf, the turn of a lady’s heel, the chic, tousled ‘i-haven’t-tried-too-hard’ hair, the subtle, perfect fit of a young banker’s suit… well, it’s just… quietly, fabulously chic.
Some snaps from my recent visit.
Le Tour D’Eiffel in the limpid wintry afternoon sunshine.
Bread and butter pud (à la française) in the 3ème arrondisement.
Carousel by the Seine.
Buildings in the 5ème arrondissement.
Ticket stubs from Paris.