How We’re Really All Just Alike…

We just got back from another one of our little Paradise in Provence trips to that little slice of French heaven, Les Murets. These are wonderful trips that fully immerse one in the culture, food, wine and overall ambiance of the Luberon, along with a healthy dose of renewing friendships or creating new ones.

The inviting terrace at Les Murets where hundreds of friendships have been formed.

This last trip consisted of three lovely ladies from Chicago who found out about our trip from our website; and four lively and fun girls from Atlanta, who are personal friends and clients at the gallery.

As we planned the trip, Ann and I wondered just a little uneasily about the mix. It’s a little like going to camp: you know you’re going to have a wonderful time, but you’re not sure who your bunkmates will be. However, we reassured ourselves that everyone would be grown-up, beautifully mannered and if there were any oil/water situations, they would be resolved in a quiet and respectful way.

Well, of course we didn’t have to worry: Chicago met Atlanta and Atlanta met Chicago and it was love at first sight. It started that first night with general introductions over perfectly chilled rose and a delicious dinner on Les Muret’s magical terrace. And, as the week wore on, it was refreshing to watch new friendships being formed and lasting relationships being cemented through shared experiences: children, husbands, careers and passions.

The Chicago ladies (who mostly have younger children) were thrilled to have downtime with each other away from their constant demands and pressures. And, the Atlanta ladies re-kindled strong friendships that maybe had drifted over the years.

Here's Atlanta & Chicago meeting for the first time.

We’re not sure if it was the soft and reflective light that permeates Provence, or maybe the balmy, lavender-scented air (and unusually summer-like temps that greeted us on our arrival and blessedly stayed with us all week) that helped cement these newly found relationships; or, maybe it was the long and lingering dinners over olives, tapenade, freshly made vegetables tarts, aromatic cheeses and succulent fruits.

The famous cheese tray at Bistrot du Paradou – a perfect recipe for making new friends.

Perhaps it was the light and refreshing roses, reds and whites that were heartily consumed or the chance to chat leisurely over two-hour gastronomique feasts. Comparing market finds or quietly contemplating one’s life in a 16^th century abbey? Whatever the reason, for one happy week, our seven guests become fast and furious friends.

Shopping in the market

Thoughtful contemplation (and maybe a little catnap) after a delicious lunch.

Two days later we're all fast and furious friends...

Petit cafe for dejeuner

Our thoughts were confirmed twice on this trip: once while we were driving with our handsome and charming driver, Christophe, and discussing the merits of soccer. One saucy lady happened to mention that the players, while at the top of their game, are usually pretty attractive, too. “Oh you ladies are the same all over,” exclaimed Christophe with a perfectly French grin and shrug. We all agreed.

Christophe, our fearless driver

A few days later, we gathered after a postcard pretty little market (in Lourmarin) to compare purchases. One Atlantan pulled out a new purchase and fetchingly modeled it.

Donna models her new top – and receives an admiring remark from a nearby vendor.

A vendor, a typical Provencal kind of guy, started applauding and called out in French, “You women are always admiring your babies!” (meaning that we coddle and cuddle the things we love.)

Les Baux

What we all realized is that despite the myriad of differences we have, we are all basically the same. We have families, careers, responsibilities and passions and when a bond is formed through one of those, a friendship is sure to be made.

And if that can happen for one week in enchanting Provence, it’s all the better!

Tata!

M.

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.

Heaven in the 7th

Postcards from Paris...

After my big loss of Le Sublime, I took a little break from trying to find the perfect Paris pad. I tried to ignore the barrage of emails, with pictures of seductive floors, enticing moldings and 19^th century stone facades. I tried not to click on google maps for a daily walk up and down the streets of a neighborhood. I avoided some of my favorite French websites and didn’t try to hone in on buildings from the sky, at different angles, to measure the angle of the sun at various times of the day. I tried not to focus on Paris and instead kept busy with a multitude of other projects, with the gallery, trips to Provence, and of course, my little family. And I was successful at it … until this photo popped up in my inbox.

Followed by another one, that just clarified the location for me.

Some people might think, what’s the big deal? So you have a view of the Eiffel Tower? What makes you think this is a great apartment?

But you see, I’ve been doing this for almost three years! I know this neighborhood inside and out. I can look at this photo and tell you that the apartment is within a stone’s throw of the rue Cler, one of the most bustling and colorful market streets in Paris. I know that it’s around the corner from the rue St. Dominique, home of about six fabulous restaurants, most of which are owned and run by that new prince of cuisine, Christian Constant. I know the buses that run up and down the street and I love the metro stop, which is a five minute walk away. I’ve walked the short stroll to the Seine river, and to the Champ de Mars, and know that from this location, my puppy will get the most scenic work out that she’s ever experienced.

And although I’m not an haute couture kind of gal, I certainly like the idea of being just minutes from the avenue Montaigne, even though I’ll probably never set foot in Chanel, Dior or Christian Lacroix.

Without even looking further, I know that this apartment is in “my” hood. Oh dear. These don’t come up very often. I may just have to pursue it.

And then I catch a glimpse of the floors! “My floors!” I’m in trouble now …

From the floors and the moulding, I can tell that it’s a Haussmann style building, probably built a little before the turn of the century (1890’s). I’m pretty sure that it’s on the 2^nd floor, which is not my favorite, but I do see advantages to not being up high, especially since I’ve had experience with Parisian elevators. And, this apartment is on a very wide street, so there’s nothing blocking the sun from pouring in, which is another check in its favor.

I read the description and the size and realize that it’s perfect. At 800 square feet, it’s just enough to be a small two bedroom, which is exactly what I’m looking for. There’s only one bathroom, but that can probably be remedied. And the pictures of the kitchen are definitely not what I’m looking for. But that too, is a cosmetic fix. I’m starting to hyperventilate, just a little.

It’s time to look at this building from the sky, measure the sun and walk to the nearest bakery. I see that it’s on a large courtyard, so I figure that the bedrooms, surely located in the back, will actually get some good light. I look at the angle of the sun and figure that in the summer time, the front of the building will have sun pouring in from early afternoon to sunset.

I get out google maps, and sprint around the neighborhood, counting the number of restaurants, gourmet shops, pharmacies (my personal favorites!), and yes, even veterinary clinics. I visit some of the local dress shops, antique stores and art galleries that dot every street. I look at the florists, the hair dressers, the shoe repair shops, the cheese shops, the wine stores, and start counting the bakeries and take out gourmet shops, until my stomach begins to rumble. I ensure that there are no restaurants downstairs whose odors could penetrate the apartment. And I count the number of buses that all stop within a five minute walk.

By the time I finish my google tour, I am panting, exhausted and exhilirated. And ready to call the realtor.

But what if this one turns out to be sold? Can I bear another loss? Can I take my poor readers through another roller coaster ride? And will I finally find my little slice of heaven in the 7th?

I have no choice. This apartment speaks to me. I make the call and hold my breath.

Stay tuned!

Tata,

A.

Huffingtons in France - Linda & Ann take on Provence

At the market preparing for our group – no such thing as too much basil!

I am in France right now with Linda on a gallery trip to Provence and it’s one of the most fun trips we’ve ever had. I know, that’s a dangerous thing to say since we never want to play favorites and of course we love all our children equally! But what makes this trip so special is the camaraderie of the ladies in this group whose deep bonds of friendship date back to college days. They know each other so well that the jabs are flying constantly while the laughter is contagious, and Linda and I are spending half our time doubled over in stitches. Perhaps there is a little wine flowing in the evenings, but all in all, it’s such good fun.

One of my favorite parts of this trip is that for at least one guest, it is her first trip to France. Seeing it all through her eyes is like reliving it and appreciating it for the first time.

We’ve got a great system of helpers on our trips, the main one being the ever adorable and so fashionably footed Christophe, our driver. Today, taking a little side trip to the train station with Christophe, I learned that his motivation for guiding people around France is the same as ours – which is the joy you get for playing a part in showing people the unexpected, whether it’s the first time they’ve seen it or not.

The Fashionable Feet of Christophe

Christophe was a pilot in a previous life who took clients on circuits over parts of the marvelously varied Provence countryside. He said that the holidays were a busy season for him with many people offering his plane trip to their friends or families as a very special Christmas present. His favorite clients were the skeptics, like the farmer who was born and raised on his land and thought that nobody could teach him anything new. He described the farmer arriving begrudgingly to the airport, reluctant to get on a plane because he’d seen it all and knew the land thoroughly from the ground. And then slowly, as Christophe guided the plane over all the familiar territory, the farmer became mesmerized and enchanted by the countryside below, seeing it for the first time from a completely different perspective. By the time he finished the trip, Christophe said that the farmer was enchanted and beguiled by the beauty and the experience. Christophe said he loved that kind of client, and was so excited to appreciate it all over again through someone else’s eyes.

The fabulous and fashionably footed Christophe

I could really relate to this. The ladies on the trip often say, “Don’t you get tired of doing the trips and taking people to the same places every day?” and my answer is a resounding no! With each new group I get to see it through their eyes and appreciate it all over again, reliving it for the first time. Like Christophe, I sometimes even get a skeptic, someone who expects all French people to be rude and a tad anti-American. I try not to say anything, and just let the week unfold. And then little by little I get to hear each night about some random act of kindness or some unusual quirk that happened during the day. As the week evolves, I usually find that they discover something new, not just about the French but about themselves as well.

Our ladies of the week

In some ways it reminds me of life the gallery, when clients come in and admit their fear of buying art or of appearing uneducated by asking the wrong question. If there is one thing we have strived for, it is to make that person feel comfortable in our gallery. We hope they come away from their visit knowing that there are no right or wrong answers, that art is subjective, and that they should buy what speaks to them personally for whatever reason. We love it when that person comes back to the gallery, having enjoyed the process -- and the paintings.

And so it goes with these trips. If we can succeed in showing you things you’d never experienced before and opening your eyes and all of your senses to appreciate something new and unexpected, not only have we done our “job” but you will have given us an equal amount of pleasure.

New friends, on top of the world!

And that’s the case with our trip this week, and what a pleasure it has been! All I can really say is thank you to this tremendous group of women, who have given us the opportunity to see the beauty through their eyes and have taught us all again about the power of friendship, laughter and the deep bonds that connect us all together. Merci mesdames, for the week and for the happy reflections.

Our beautiful Ralph Lauren model, and her reflections

Tata,

A.