Back from Paris: Le Tired

Bonjour, mes amis! I’m back from four days in Paris, which, as it turns out, is the perfect amount of time. We shopped, we ate, we strolled. And strolled. And strolled. We walked MILES. I’m not sure my feet could have taken another day.

Eiffel Tower
We did make it to the Eiffel tower, but we didn’t go up. We found a park bench and just took pictures.

I’ve got plenty of post topics coming up in the days ahead. I’ll go into more detail about what we ate, where we shopped (short answer: every damn minuscule boutique I had ever read about, basically), and how we got there.

But in the meantime, here’s a tiny taste. A list of rules for Parisiennes.

Fall in Paris
Of course I’m wearing Gallic stripes in Paris. How could you not?

1) If you live in Paris, you must wear a scarf at all times. Men and women. Also: skinny jeans. But especially scarves.

2) Every restaurant in Paris must have duck confit on the menu. It’s the law, I think.

3) Every street musician must play Dean Martin’s “Sway.” Accordian, saxophone, doesn’t matter. If you can play it repeatedly in a metro train with a captive audience and a metallic echo ringing off the walls, all the better.

4) If you have a snooty little French dog and it poops on the sidewalk, as a Parisian, it is your right to ignore it. Don’t pick it up. Let someone else’s shoe do the work for you.

5) When you want steamed mussels and fries, you can never find them.

No problemo
No problemo, unless you’re boyfriend wants moules et frites. Then, you will have problemos.
Angry Toons
Oh, you think you want a piece of this?