Breakfast of (French) Champions

Adele's preschool held a breakfast for parents the other day. A couple times a year, parents are invited into the classrooms to see what the kids are up to and chat with the teacher over petit dejeuner. We were asked in advance to bring something and everyone signed up. Standard stuff.

So, given all the praise heaped on the French for how they feed their kids, you'd expect an impressive, healthy spread, right?

Not so fast. Check this out.

See that lonely plastic container of cut fruit? Ours. Breakfast was a veritable buffet of ways not to start a day of healthy eating. Pains aux chocolat, croissants, madeleines, even chocolate cake. Then there were the hot and cold chocolate drinks. Adele was in heaven.

Was this just the rare "special occasion" breakfast? I have learned that most French kids start their days with toast liberally topped with their beloved Nutella. (What's not to love?) And I've written before about the daily 4pm snack: Chocolate-filled pastries, cookies, candy (candy!?) and my personal favorite: the hunk of baguette with a bar of chocolate wedged in the middle. A chocolate sandwich! How great is that?

It has me thinking. How do the French manage it? Their kids do eat incredibly well a table. I've seen it myself. They sit patiently at the table, eat all (or most) of what is put in front of them (no matter what it is) and manage to stay put for the duration of the meal. They have one (and only one) snack a day at 4 o'clock and otherwise don't expect to eat outside their three well-structured meals. (Except breakfast which maybe isn't..?)

Here's what I've concluded. Because the French place such great emphasis on quality meals (especially lunch) and don't snack, they feel free to indulge their kids with sweets at snack time or on other "special" occasions. One French mom explained that chocolate, candy and sweets are "un privilege de l'enfance" (childhood privilege) and argued that it's good for them to indulge in a controlled way. If they know they can expect sweets at snack time, they won't desire and ask for them at meals and throughout the day. Hmm. Pretty smart.

Of course, none of this really explained the preschool classroom spread. I guess it was deemed a special occasion? I did try to imagine the reception this bakery buffet would receive in many communities in the States. My guess is not very well, especially given what I've read recently about banning ice cream and bake sales in places like Brooklyn and Somerville, Mass.

I think it comes down to enjoying things in moderation, whether it be chocolate, wine or foie gras. As with many pleasures in life, the French seem to have this down to a fine art. 

Monday a la Mode: J'adore BHV!

A short post today to share a bit 'o love for BHV, the central Paris department store located next to Hotel de Ville. When we lived in Paris the first time (eleven years ago), our apartment was just up the street on rue Beaubourg. That meant lots of trips to BHV for things like kitchen supplies, a shopping caddy or small appliances. 

Boy, did we dread those visits. Back then, BHV was a nightmare. Finding someone to help you was tantamount to climbing Mount Kilimanjaro and departing with both your sought item and your sanity was seemingly impossible.

Writer Adam Gopnik even joked about his own BHV shopping experiences in his memoir, Paris to the Moon. (We had similar takes on the place). 

What a difference a decade makes! In the years we were away, BHV found its groove and now happily (and even somewhat efficiently) sells everything from beautiful home accessories and clothing to perfume and latex paint. Whether you're looking for a fab outfit (they carry Maje, Sandro, Kookai and many more) or a hand-sander to refinish a table, BHV has got it. They also have an incredible department devoted to art supplies and crafts. Well worth a visit. 

Check out these gorgeous home scent diffusers and faux calla lilies. 

And funky lighting!

 A seamstress's dream.

The famed sous-sol (basement) is also a treasure trove of goods for home repair and maintenance and also stocks lots of goodies for the DIY-minded. Check out this dyed leather and these fun decorative letters. Someone could get very creative with these. Enjoy!

Growing Up (a little bit) French

Last year at this time, after almost four months in Paris, our family was still finding its way. Especially little Adele, who was three-and-a-half when we moved. As I've written about before, Adele's first months at French preschool were tough. She spent many hours crying and clutching her lovey for dear life. Those were hard days.

But one year later, Adele has blossomed and is each day becoming a little bit more la petite francaise.

She has her "French lady walk" down pat (a seductive, hip-swinging swagger) and even does an impressive pout a la Parisienne. She liberally sprinkles French words into her English vocabulary and floats seamlessly between the two worlds. It's been amazing to watch.

Some of it can be worrisome, too. Like the time we went out for Vietnamese (the best pho in Paris is in the 13e), and we caught her "smoking" a bean sprout (albeit backwards..) "just like the teenagers do, Mommy!" Eeek.

She's hyper aware of the world around her and has absorbed certain French-isms more than the rest of us. She's learning to eat skillfully with both knife and fork in hand and has a love of French bread that borders on excessive. She has mastered the native inflection to her voice and even adds that unmistakably Gallic, "...unh?" at the tail end of her sentences. After years of speaking French, I have yet to nail that one.

And so I wonder what it will all mean as I watch her grow up a little bit French? It's a culture I appreciate in so many ways: its food, art, celebration of history and beauty and the smaller pleasures in life. The French prize intellectual debate and parsing ideas, things we hope to instill in our kids, too. And there's so much more.

But when I think about the lessons and priorities I hope to share with Adele, there are aspects about womanhood in Paris that trouble me, too. Like the obsessive focus on appearance and weight. (Not exclusive to France by any means..) And the whole befuddling (and somewhat reductive) game of seduction between French men and women. There's an element of artifice to it all that gets a bit exhausting and sometimes leaves me longing for a dose of California ease. Then there's the way women relate to one another and the (dare I say it?) subtle hostility I sometimes sense among them. Do they share the camaraderie I so value with my own friends? Or is closeness in friendship just defined differently and therefore just feels foreign? Maybe because I'm the etrangere, that's one aspect of life here that I'll never completely get.

Of course I know I'd have as many (although perhaps different) worries no matter where we live. That's just what it is to be a parent. 

As for Adele, only time will tell. For now, she's an irrepressible just-turned-five year old who may just be the funniest person I've ever met. (Except her Aunt Marla. Maybe that's where she gets it?)

So, to celebrate her birthday this year, Adele compiled a list of 14 kids to invite to her celebration. (What a difference a year makes!). Maybe it's because she didn't have a real party last year. Maybe it's because I'm a sucker for a party myself. Either way, we decided to throw her a real fete to remember complete with a French birthday party animatrice, puppet show, magic, make-up and balloon animals.

Here are some shots of my sweet Adele. Thanks for indulging me. I'm one proud maman.

 Like my hat(s)? Big bro's birthday before we move to Paris.

  I like cafes...

Bike riding on avenue de Breteuil.

I can tie my scarf just like a French lady!

 

Celebrating "Allo-een" with Jacques-o-Lantern.

My first visit to Laduree...yummy. 

Baguette...c'est bon!

"I'm a big girl now, I'm five!"

Hot Air at the Paris Hammam

A friend and I recently treated ourselves with a visit to Hammam Pascha, a Mediterranean style "spa" offering massage, steam baths, body scrubs and beauty treatments for busy Parisiennes. It bills itself as an urban "oasis of serenity" to relax, indulge and unwind. After two and half weeks of 24/7 quality time with the kids, I'm tightly wound indeed. A day spa sounded like just the thing.

With various treatment packages all promising inner peace, glowing skin and free mint tea, I opted for "Well Being" and hoped for the best. Did Pascha deliver? Well, that depends. If your relaxation ideal includes fluffy robes, Zen music and iced water-with-a-slice-of-cucumber, Pascha's probably not for you. If however, it includes a full body scrub-down by an aggressive Moroccan wearing a sarong and a lethal loofah mitt, Pascha may just fit the bill.

Because it isn't a day spa at all (silly Californian). It's an authentic hammam (Turkish bath), just like the name says. So instead of soft lighting, aromatherapy and discretion, you get colorful Moroccan tiles, a large soaking pool and treatment stalls complete with hoses and squeegees to tidy up between clients.

Stripped of our street clothes and wrapped in wafer thin robes, our misplaced Anglo modesty quickly  became apparent. Prone Parisiennes splayed around the steam-filled space, thoroughly engaged in the act of posing, er relaxing. Some swanned about in chic floral sarongs (it is Paris after all), some in nothing at all. Either way, our body-covering swimsuits looked silly at best. My masseuse gruffly ordered me to "enleve votre haut" with a roll of the eyes that said, "Cherie, I've seen it all."

I had bravely signed on for a full body scrub (gommage) having been warned that it might seem a tad rough compared with what I'm used to. If a sanding that could resurface an oak dining table could be considered rough, then yes, this was rough indeed. The peels of epidermis I unwittingly shed on the tiles were proof enough. Ouch.

Then came the full body massage (again, modesty has no place) and unanticipated nutritional pep talk. I need to eat "much, much, much more bread," according to my masseuse who found my corps wanting in the poundage department. What's more, I needed to learn to r e l a x. When I replied that in fact, that's precisely why I was getting a massage, she sniffed and stated that wasn't sufficient. Prescription medication for relaxation was deemed necessary. Oh, and extra Vitamin B.

Ah, the French and their deep devotion to meds.

And so we emerged into the Paris sunshine, devoid of dead skin cells and polished head to toe. Was it relaxing? Mmm, not so much. Entertaining and enlightening? Ah oui, bien sur.

A Week in the French Countryside

It's day seven of our stay out in the Normandy countryside. Despite mostly gray skies and steady rainfall, this is a magical part of the country that I wanted to share with you. If you've ever spent time outside the bigger cities in France, you know the countryside is nothing like Paris. "L'hexagone" (as the French call their beloved country) is dotted with tiny, ancient towns that feel as though you've traveled back in time.

This is the restored 17th century farmhouse we've rented, l'Orgerie, located just outside the small town of Pont Farcy. The closest neighbors we've seen have been the sheep who graze behind the house several times a day.

The home is owned by a British couple who lovingly renovated it in the early 1990's. It's hard not to fantasize about buying and fixing up a little stone house of our own. Maybe someday? We found the house on this website which features holiday properties in France mostly owned by Brits. We've also used this French site that has thousands of listings all over France.

Here is a look at the house and some of its pretty details. The owners managed to keep much of what makes a house like this special: the old wide plank floors, huge chimneys, funky little windows and exposed beams everywhere.

The focus of our week has been on shopping at the marches and cooking delicious meals from goods from local, mostly organic farms. I'm not a nut when it comes it eating organic but prefer it when we can. (Of course, I have yet to find an organic croissant or pain au chocolat so I could never go all organic...). It's hard to beat the just-picked spinach, potatoes and asparagus we bought at this organic farm cooperative earlier this week. Just a handful of sellers in an old barn selling their wares once a week.

 I also bought some homemade jam and delicious, creamy goat cheese with just enough bite to perfectly complement the bread baked with love (as evidenced by his impassioned description of the process!) by this man down the road.

It's been a memorable, relaxing week but I'm excited to get back to Paris tomorrow. Can't wait to see all the new spring blooms since we've been away. Hope you've had a great weekend. A bientot!

Monday (er, mardi) à la Mode

Greetings from the French countryside! We arrived in Normandy on Saturday for a nine day stay. Despite soggy, gray skies, so far so wonderful. Later this week, I'll fill you in on the restored 17th century farmhouse where we're staying. In a word, dreamy.

For now, as promised, I wanted to share two great boutiques I discovered recently while touring the city by bike. (More on my Velib' adventure later...) Last week, I wrote about spring's vintage-inspired trend. It seems that more and more Paris boutiques are embracing the concept in the form of upscale second hand shops. We're not talking here about Goodwill style racks of malodorous cast-offs, but hand-selected items passed on by chic Parisians looking for a few extra euros in their mini-sacs.

The French resale shop (depot vente) is certainly nothing new; they can be found in every quartier. But these two shops have taken the concept and given it new life. The best news of all? Fabulous, fashionable, like-new quality items for a mere fraction of retail. What's not to love?

Violette et Leoni (27, rue de Poitue and 1, rue de Saintonge, 75003) in the upper Marais bills itself as a resale "concept store" and sells only current styles and great brands like Parisian favorites Maje, Sandro and APC plus a meticulously curated vintage selection. It's actually two shops located around the corner from one another both carrying a similar selection of women's clothing and accessories. (The rue de Saintonge outpost also has some menswear.) It's not the place to score Chanel or Vuitton but the perfect place for current, seasonal styles to update your wardrobe at seriously great prices. I spotted a Paul & Joe top for 40 euros and a Zadig & Voltaire sundress for 55. Both steals in like-new condition. Prepare to ignore a bit of attitude from the salespeople and focus instead on the great goodies. You can even shop online - they ship internationally! Here are some tempting items I'm coveting on their website.

Cute, huh? And really good prices, too. 

Now imagine shopping in the home of your most stylish friend. That's what it feels like to enter Les Gignettes (4, rue du Sabot, 75006) and browse the hand-picked items that include labels like Isabel Marant, Vanessa Bruno and Balenciaga alongside the very best of Zara and H&M. Housed in a super charming 17th century building, you'll also find framed art, home decor and some unopened cosmetics and perfumes at half price. (I scored a NARS lip gloss for 11 euros). Stop by on Saturdays and linger over mint tea or attend one of the regularly scheduled art openings. Details (and tempting photos) at LesGignettes.net.

The downside of these shops of course, is the limited selection of sizes. With just one of everything, either it fits or it doesn't. Great bags, scarves and carefully selected jewelry however, offer ample consolation if you don't "trouvez votre bonheur" ("find your happiness," as the French shopping saying goes). But when you do score that coveted item in the perfect style and size, quel bonheur! Happy shopping.

Monday à la Mode: Vintage Inspired

Everything old is new again, or so it would seem in many of the styles I'm seeing around Paris. It's not that more women are actually wearing vintage -- they're wearing new items with a distinctly vintage-y look and feel (without the unpleasant odor and bad fabric.)

Vanessa Bruno, one of my favorite Parisian designers who I wrote about last week, nails the look best with floaty, feminine tops (that are never too cutesy) and 70ish slouchy shoulder bags worn across the body. Add some fringe for extra style points.

Photo By Alice Pfeiffer

Here's Bruno's 14-year-old daughter (yes, 14), Lune, in what she describes as a "vintage" Vanessa Bruno top and bag. Of course, she's 14 so "vintage" to her is probably 2008. Anyway, the vest (or as they call it here, sleeveless jacket) looks pretty vintage too, no?

We all know that when it comes to fashion, if you hang around long enough, everything comes full circle. I had that thought in a shop recently when I found myself considering buying a denim shirt. A denim shirt!? I couldn't help but wonder how many denim shirts I've owned over the years. But here they are again, even being worn with jeans. (Too much of a good thing is sometimes not good at all).

But, they do look pretty great paired with white jeans (a personal favorite any time of year but especially now) and worn-in leather accessories. Like this.

Photo By Frankies on the Park

Okay, so she's in New York but this looks fab (and very Parisian, if you skip the preppy belt.) P.S. Rolling back your sleeves is a definite Parisian style thing.

For more tips on how to dress like a Parisienne, check out Ines de la Fressange's book, the unambiguously named Parisian Chic, out last year. The former Chanel model-turned-muse is widely regarded as the French style guru and the book contains all her not-so-secret-anymore "style secrets," like shopping in kids' stores and wearing a leather jacket over a sundress.

Next week on Monday a la Mode, I'll share two amazing boutiques I found recently while touring the city by bike. One in the Marais, one in St. Germain des Pres. A bientot!

I also blog over at HipParis. Here are a couple recent posts you might enjoy. (And if you're looking for a fabulous vacation rental for your next visit to Paris or London, their places are gorgeous!)

French Lessons: An American Family Goes to School in Paris
Les Hommes Parisian are Seductive, Sexy, Cool