2 posts tagged “soldes”
Today was an excellent day. While I still have some serious jet-lag, I was able to wake up only 2.5 hours after my alarm went off. And then I trotted off to Mike and Rion's old house, to pick up my new bike! Mike and Rion, and most importantly, Dante, just moved to London on Sunday. While I'm happy for them that they're starting a new adventure, and a new job for Mike, I'm definitely sad that they're gone.
Okay, so I only *really* care about Dante, but it can't hurt to let Mike and Rion think they're part of it too, right? Seriously, who could compete with this face:
But in the midst of the craziness, Mike forgot to tell the movers to pick up their three bikes in the shed. Off all their belongings went to London, leaving three lonely bikes behind. And, lo! Sophie saw that it was good.
So I got my lazy butt over to the 6th, to get one of the bikes from the gardien. Only he had already left for the day by the time I got there. I knocked on someone's door, asking if they would let me into the bike shed. The woman was very nice, but said she didn't have a key. She suggested I go try directly above her. So up I go.
There, the woman who answers the door is on the phone. She beckons me into her apartment and signals me to hold on while she finishes her call. When I explain the situation, referring to Dante's adorableness as a mental cue, she says she'd be happy to help, but her husband has the key and won't be home till later. She suggests I try the man upstairs. I tell her I don't want to bother any more people, but she insists that it's no bother. So up I go.
The man who answers the door is a bit grumpy, but willing to help. We head down to the bike shed, and I make small talk on the way. Did he know Mike and Rion? The did live in the building for three years, so it's not a silly question. He tells me that he knew who they were, but since they didn't speak very good French they never talked. Hm. Okay. Mike's French definitely improved this last year, but whatevs.
He then adds that they kept their baby stroller in the lobby with a padlock on it, "comme si c'etait le Bronx ici! On n'est pas dans le Bronx!/As if this were the Bronx! We're not in the Bronx!" I thought this was particularly amusing, since he was, for all intents and purposes, helping me take a bike that he had NO IDEA was actually mine for the taking. Not to mention the fact that I'm sure the padlock was not intended for the building residents, as it's a very nice building in a very nice neighborhood, but rather for the delivery and service people who come and go. Dante's stroller is pretty snazzy, and I could imagine a pizza man (were there any pizza men in Paris) getting the wrong idea.
I did not relay any of this to the grumpy man who was helping me, however. He was trying to adjust the seat to the right height for me, but since it's a folding bike, he kept flipping the wrong switches and it was just a disaster. I told him not to bother, that I wouldn't ride it home anyway, since I don't have a helmet yet. To which he replied, "T'as pas besoin d'une casque! On n'est pas à Los Angeles!/You don't need a helmet! We're not in Los Angeles!"
There are several flaws in this argument: 1. What the fuck is up with this guy's pointing out what American places we are NOT in? 2. One should always wear a helmet. 3. The streets are currently completely covered in black ice, due to the utter lack of post-snow clean-up in this city, making a helmet even more necessary. 4. Who the hell rides a bike in LA, anyway?
I just thanked him again, said happy new year, and walked the bike about a mile home.
After a fun hour tutoring Prune, an adorable six year-old, I told her that it was time for me to go. "Déjà?/Already?" she asked. Aw. Makes me feel all warm inside. But I had places to go, and shopping to do! For today was the first day of the almighty winter soldes, or twice-yearly government sanctioned SALES. Whoop!
This year, unofficial sales started back in December, due to the shit-fest that is the global economy. But all the good stuff didn't get marked down till today. I had a very specific shopping list in mind, and stuck to it. I got the goods for 30-50% off, and am so psyched. I now would like the bonus of finding a new winter coat, a pair of low grey boots, and a new going-out top, since I'm so sick of all of mine. But even if I find nothing else, I've gotten the essentials: 3 new turtlenecks (heather grey, brown, and a color called "caviar,"), a very pretty grey silk dress for any wedding that doesn't permit cleavage, and a pair of black lace-up shoes.
And THEN! Anna's horoscope (I know, I make fun of her for this, too) told her that tonight is a good night for drinks with the girls, so she decided to organize drinks with the girls! I'm so glad she did. Anna, Lauren, Julie, Pauline and I got together at Le Pantalon for kirs and beers.
It was really good to see everyone together. The five of us, while all friends, have actually never hung out as a group. Normally it's any combination of 2-4 at a given time, but since we all split our lives between at least two cities, it's very rare that we're all in Paris at once. Here's to more apèros!
Monday I went to register for my French social security. Now that I've applied (I had to wait until I got the approval to apply, and that took four months) I have to wait a month to six weeks to get my temporary social security number. Then I wait a month to six weeks after that to get my permanent number. This means that I'll get my permanent number about a month before returning to the States!
I also went to the osteopath, and found out my right arm was hurting so much because I had jammed my wrist and elbow, and had a bone out of place. She popped it back in, but a week later it's still hurting. Advice?
Anna and I saw "Hollywoodland" which had the lamest ending ever. It was beautifully shot though, and I thought Ben Affleck did a surprisingly good job.
On Wednesday Lisa took me out to a delicious dinner at Georges, the restaurant on top of the Pompidou Center. You can read all about it this week on Parisist. I'm going to be blogging for them every Thursday, starting this week. Parisist is the Paris version of Gothamist. I'll have an author bio and picture and everything, and anyone can post comments on my brilliant insights.
Wednesday was also the first day of the French Soldes, or sales. All sales are government-controlled (of course), which is why you won't find random sales the way you do in the States. Instead the whole country has six weeks of massive sales twice a year: once in January/February and once in the summer, usually July. The first day is notoriously crazy, since lots of people take off work to shop. That may sound ridiculous, until you realize that most things are at least 50% off, and they go fast. As in, luxury handbags, designer jeans and shoes, all clothing and electronics, etc etc. I was looking forward to blowing my bank account at the Grands Magasins, or department stores. There are three big ones here: Galeries Lafayette, Printemps, and Bon Marche. Galeries Lafayette and Printemps are right next to each other, and both offer 10% off to all foreign shoppers. Plus, if you buy more than 170 euros in one store in one day you get an additional 12% off when you leave the EU. Not bad. Unfortunately, the staff at all the Grands Magasins decided to strike Wednesday, to protest the longer working hours they have to work during the sales. I find this genius.
I did my major damage on Friday, spending an absolute fortune on a new handbag, pretty undies, a sweater, dress, and tops. Everything was at least 50% off, if not more. I was in such a good mood afterwards, and will be in an even better mood when I get the tax refund.
Brittany was back in town, shooting the look book for Nina Ricci. We had dinner Thursday night and hung out all day Saturday with Anna. Then today I helped Anna settle in to her new apartment. She's babysitting twelve to sixteen hours a week in exchange for a maid's room in the 5th. She has twelve square meters on the seventh floor, with a view of the Eiffel Tower. It's really nice and new and clean, and I'm jealous. We celebrated by going shopping (eep!) and then having a pizza and champagne dinner with Daniel and her friend, Maria.
I have a cashmere sweater addiction. It can't be stopped. I must feed it!
