“It is impossible to enjoy idling thoroughly unless one has plenty of work to do.
There is no fun in doing nothing when you have nothing to do.
Wasting time is merely an occupation then, and a most exhausting one.
Idleness, like kisses, to be sweet must be stolen.” – Jerome K. Jerome, playwright
Paris is a theme park for adults.
Before dedicating ourselves to visiting known enchantments and discovering new hidden delights, we attend localizing our attitude, our energies, our deportment.
Shifting identities is footsteps from our apartment in the former royal enclave of Le Marais.
- Score a bold, tissue-thin scarf for casual, “oh-so-carefully prepared” flair from Tibetan incense shop on our street.
- At the corner, obtain “cool” sunglasses from in-n-out stylist Jimmy Fairly to refract the celebrated Light that inspires generations of Parisian artistes.
- The Bastille market on Sunday offers a modish beret curated by an African chapeau-vendor who enjoys our retail folly.
- Daily tasks of toting produits alimentaires from shops in the quarter require a properly rumpled, cotton sack with an esoteric logo.
- Rue Saint Honore yields a bright mustard leather backpack to replace our old faithful.
Finally, we are fit to attend to the primary mission – find the perfect outdoor Parisian café! Our field of play is the charming 4th arrondissement, which now embraces young families, working people, venturesome Asian and ‘merican tourists, observant Jews, and notably, international worshipers of the current fashion.
Exhaustively, we catalog every restaurant, bistrot, brasserie, cafe. We seek a perfect setting for relaxed hours of nursing café crème.
Each day, amid excursions to museums or concerts, we contrast the contenders. Qualities of taste, ambience, and esprit de service are carefully compared. Honorable mentions go to revered Carette on Place des Vosges, and comfy Bouquet au St. Paul, perched near our Metro stop. Finally, we announce le prix d’or: Le Progres, storied tabac and “hip” bar in the Haut Marais.
Prominently placed at the merger of six streets, Le Progres credibly gave birth to countless stillborn revolutions. It is easy to imagine smoke-infused, blurry-eyed political arguments overflowing from backrooms and sidewalks. Today, blasé postures of nonchalance set the tone.
We are content to observe promenades which trumpet where it’s at, and…where it’s going! Eye-candy from all directions:
- Cool trash collectors gun their truck machinery hourly at the curb, as they throw back to-go espressos and suck hand-rolled smokes.
- Fuzzy, pink slippers parade before us beneath long, plaid raincoats.
- An earbud-wearing, orange-haired diva orders a carafe of rosé, crispy frites, and smokes 5 Marlboros.
- Nonstop air-kisses appear in sharp contrast to growing local annoyance with relentless street demonstrations.
Alas, all is not play.
Each morning, we dutifully search the best offerings at fromageries, boulangeries, and atelier de chocolat along Rue Saint Antoine. Patiently, we await service behind picky ladies attending their daily shopping routines. Many are strikingly similar – stylish spectacles, sensible hair, dour countenance. That cool indifference chills our impatience watching the seemingly tedious process procuring today’s freshest fruit and most redolent cheese.
Notre Paris is an entrancing passage among the sublime, and the mundane. Life’s necessities and pleasures blend harmoniously.
Gratitude is our enduring souvenir.
All images captured on iPhoneXs. Click on any photo to ride the carousel:
