Reality sets in…

Zara coat (similar)
Le Chateau sweater (c/o) (similar)
Mavi jeans (c/o)
Sezane boots (similar)
Dior handbag (similar)
Anthropologie beret
& Other Stories sunglasses
& Other Stories necklace
Delphine Pariente ring (similar)
Madewell rings
Location: Quai de Montebello – Paris, France

Dear friends,

I wonder if you’ve ever experienced the sensation of watching a happy time slip away from you like sand through an hourglass, even as you’re living it? That’s what this Monday in Paris feels like for us. The initial thrill of arrival has faded, and jetlag is nearly worn off, leaving reality space to settle in. Suddenly, we are keenly aware of how little time we have left in the city, and how quickly each hour was passing us by.

Perhaps it is the prospect of spending the next two days in Bordeaux, which effectively means that we have two less days in our favourite place on earth. Or perhaps it is just all the extra time spent taking the metro from our out-of-the-way neighbourhood to the places we want to spend our time. Either way, the reality is that we have already reached the halfway mark of our stay in Paris – day three of six – and there is so much left to do.

Before we left for Paris, I wrote a meticulous schedule for every day of our trip. I did it partly because I couldn’t help myself; even planning for Paris is almost as exciting as actually being in Paris. But I also did it because I didn’t want us to waste a second. I filled every day. Except Monday. Apart from stops at Place Dauphine and on the quais for photos, I left Monday more or less blank. The idea was to take things slowly. But how can you take things slowly when there is just so much you want to do, and you are so keenly aware of how little time there is to do it all in?

The answer, at least if you’re me, is that it’s impossible. We manage to linger, albeit briefly, over cafe au lait and croissants at Le Bar du Caveau on Place Dauphine, a charming spot we discovered almost by accident one rainy March morning in 2017. The coffee is reasonably good, and the croissants slightly above average. But it’s really the location that we love. The experience of having the terrace, and all of Place Dauphine, to ourselves early in the morning is always priceless.

But how can you really linger, when Paris awaits? Before we know it, our coffee cups are empty. Its time to dash off again. We hop on the metro to Le Bon Marche, the only one of the three beautiful department stores in the city that we will visit on this trip. Again, we dawdle, admiring all the varieties of Chinon, our favourite red wine, for sale in the Grand Epicerie before venturing to the shoe section, where I can easily lose myself for hours. But shoe purchases can wait for Avenue Montaigne later in the week. I came here with a mission. That mission, in true fashion girl style, was to purchase fancy French candles.

Like every girl who has ever been to Paris, I own a collection of Diptyque candles. A collection of the glass jars they came in. The elegant packaging appeals to my love of all things black, white and Parisian. But Diptyque candles are, in reality, little more than an adorable nineteen-sixties novelty.

If you want a true French heritage candle, it must come from Cire Trudon. The brand began making candles to light the homes and churches of Paris in 1643. I suspect, given the boutique price point, that it is a rare church that can afford their magnificent wax wares these days. The scents are unlike any you will find elsewhere and justify the cost. The relationship between the church, the French aristocracy and the brand remains evident even now. Where else could you buy a candle whose scent is described as, “the wooden floors of Versailles”? I admit that I am more or less unmoved by the historical fragrances of incense and mossy walls. Ultimately, I settle on Abd El Kadr, scented with Moroccan mint tea, and Ernesto, a leather and tobacco blend.

Later, I find a small wax cameo, in an elegant turquoise gift box with metallic red print, hidden at the bottom of my shopping bag. Yes, a wax cameo, scented with peaches and grapefruit. It is not a candle, and cannot be burned. In effect, it is utterly purposeless, a beautiful curiosity that is utterly anachronistic in this century. I suppose, if you think about it, candles are, too, except on rare occasions when the electricity goes out. But they remain, a part of our shared history, a decorative tribute to the people who came before us and used them out of necessity rather than desire.

This is part of what I love so much about Europe, and why I am always in a rush to experience as much of it as possible. In North America, we have no way to experience our country as it was in 1643. Everything that made up the nations that inhabited our country at that time has been obliterated. There is so much history we will never know that we don’t know. In Europe, so much of that history not only survives, but thrives. Seventeenth-century candles co-exist in harmony with the Apple store and Starbucks. The contrast is at once startling and completely banal. Life goes on, both as it is and as it once was. It is entirely up to you what you choose to experience and discover.

In our slow rush today – we make our way back from Le Bon Marche to peruse the bouquiniste stalls along the quais before lunch – I began to ponder why it is that I will always prefer the rundown streets of Europe to all that is shiny and relatively new in North America. It is that candles that start my train of thought this time. But the truth is, I have contemplated this time and time again, marvelling at buildings that were erected when Canada was still part of the now lost Turtle Island. The answer isn’t in old books and vintage prints sold along the riverside. It isn’t in the facade of Notre-Dame de Paris, mostly obscured by buses in the midday crush of traffic crossing from Ile de la Cite to the rive gauche.

…and it certainly isn’t in my lunch, a very North American cheeseburger and Coke at Blend on rue de l’Ancien Comedie. Which, despite being totally un-French, serves one of the best burgers I’ve ever eaten. (Ian, who is the food expert among us, agrees.) I will find it eventually. But today, I am in too much of a hurry to experience every bit of Paris that I possibly can.