Heaven in the 7th, Part II

The stars may have lined up right. I call the agent, for the 7^th Heaven apartment, and she actually answers the phone and is lovely. Yes, the apartment just came on the market today, and yes it is still available. In fact, she is just starting to take appointments.

I quickly hang up and call my buyer’s agent, who just happens to be in her car, and when I text her the pictures of the apartment, she turns around and heads right back to the 7^th. By the time she gets to the building, she is asked to wait outside because there are people visiting the apartment right now, and two groups ahead of her on the street. And of course, I am calling her every five minutes for an update.

A little while later (and an eternity in my mind), she calls me in hushed tones to give me her tour. She explains that there is a weird, funky hallway, and a new kitchen and another weird funky hallway, and lots of doors that open into little rooms, and basically I understand nothing of the layout. Should I go for it, I ask her urgently. Is it great? We’ll deal with the details later, just tell me yes or no. At first she hedges because she is cautious, and the apartment has some quirks. And she doesn’t like to be put on the spot. But then she says, “It’s beautiful. And it has lots of potential …” which is all I need to hear.

I’ve been down this route several times before, so I know the drill: Full price offer, in writing, quickly wire some money and hold your breath. The rest is a sleepless blur, but somehow I come out of it at the other end with an offer that has been accepted, pending my own visit to the apartment in the next few days. So, with the blessing of my little family and my gallery, I hop on a plane, and head to Paris for my own inspection.

My friend Adrian said it right. There is something very feng shui about this apartment. It has a nice vibe to it. You feel good when you walk in, from your first glimpse of the charming little oval window in the front hall.

Yes, the layout is very funky, with a long, narrow hallway that is typical of many Haussmann style apartments. And unfortunately, the whole place has been renovated to someone else’s standards, which is what it is. Luckily, the floors have not been touched, and they are gorgeous and original. And despite the previous renovation, the moldings are intact, and the lines and bones are good.

The realtor’ photos of the kitchen were OK

But the reality is, the cabinets are baby blue with black marble

The worst part is that the kitchen has been completely redone, and I’m not loving the modern, baby blue laminate cabinets with the black granite countertops and black floor. And the bathroom has been lined with what I think is the most hideous mosaic tile, that I am told in no uncertain terms, is one of the most expensive around. Ouch! And although there is ample storage, which is unusual in Parisian apartments, the closets are ugly and placed in the funkiest arrangement. There’s definitely a lot of work to be done, even though the apartment is in good shape.

Even the realtor’s photos can’t mask the mosaic tiled bathroom

The question is … is it worth it?

As I start to ponder this thought, the sun pours in across the floors and something catches my eye. I love the reflection of the balustrade against the warmly hued floors.

Even in the back bedrooms, there’s a wonderful light that shines through.

A friend brings over a bottle of champagne and we inelegantly sip it, sitting on the wooden floors.

As the sun sets, we watch the lights of the Eiffel tower come on.

I think I’m feeling good about this. I absolutely love the neighborhood. My husband loves the neighborhood. My whole family and my extended family all love the neighborhood and just about everybody I know loves the Rue Cler. And my dog, bless her sweet darling heart, would have the just about the best possible promenade a puppy could have. In fact, I can just see her face now, looking up at me, with those adoring eyes saying, “Please, please can we go to the Eiffel Tower again?”

As my friend and I head out the door and down the street to Les Cocottes, one of my favorite restaurants in the area, I think I see a sign.

Actually, it may be two signs.

Oh boy. I look again and see five little signs, right there on the rue Cler.

And that’s when I know that this is one is meant to be.

Tata,

A.