Walking in Batignolles is the final post of The Reluctant Parisian that was written in Paris. We moved back to California in November of 2020, right before the second Paris lockdown began. Some posts have been archived as I work on a memoir of the Paris years. You can now read and listen to my Paris stories at The Wandering Writer. Just go here to get my Paris stories in your inbox.
I do still post at the Reluctant Parisian occasionally about France-related books, French style, and other things still on my mind about living in the City of Light.
During our final week in Paris at the end of October 2020, I ventured out for one last walk to Batignolles. Although traffic had returned to the boulevards, the city still felt somewhat deserted. I had stirrings of affection for Paris I’d never felt before the pandemic. We’d all been in this together for such a long time. Now, when I saw the clerk at the Franprix or the machine-gun toting gendarmes along Avenue Gabriel, our “bonjours” held more warmth, our nods more familiarity.
On that quiet autumn Tuesday I set out from our home in the 8th arrondissement under a gray sky, walking the block and a half along Rue Rembrandt to Parc Monceau. The park had been my oasis in the center of the urban storm, green and vibrant in a city of browns and grays. On countless days, I had escaped our apartment and the book I didn’t feel like writing to walk through the park and order a crepe from the snack stand beside the carousel.
Parc Monceau crepe stand
That Tuesday I skipped the crepe, as I had one thing on my mind: coffee. I exited the park, veered right on Ave. Georges Berger, and crossed Malsherbes, where Berger becomes Rue Legendre. The light caught me at the corner of Legendre and Toqueville, in front of the old brick house on the corner (19 Rue Legendre), so out of place among the whitewashed buildings.
I crossed the busy Rue de Rome, where ugly modern apartment buildings tower over the train tracks. The first time we walked this route, the day after our arrival in Paris, we were searching for our nephew Jack’s favorite restaurant, Crepe Couer. We didn’t yet know that everything closes in Paris in August, and the few things that don’t close for the entire month do close on Sunday.
If you want to emulate classic French style, start with the foundation: the bag. What bag do French women wear? One quintessential element of French style is the small crossbody bag. Most Parisians don’t carry a bunch of stuff around in their purses. French women like to look low-maintenance. (The desire to appear low-maintenance while being totally high-maintenancemay be why Parisian women smoke so much.)
If you want to dress French, your handbag should be big enough to fit your metro card, your phone, your Guerlain lipstick (preferably in red), and a tiny Pocket edition of some slender novel with a watercolor cover. If your bag is big enough to hold your laptop, it’s too big. The exception, of course, is Paris Fashion Week. Only then might you see Parisians walking around with something a little bigger, like this.
Small Crossbody Bags Are Classic French Style
In general, a crossbody bag is the purse of choice, often with a chain strap. This small black crossbody from Kate Spade is classic French style and would be right at home in Paris.
black crossbody bag with chain strap from Kate Spade
A pale pink chain crossbody is perfect for spring and summer. (Although the Kate Spade website calls it a “wallet,” Parisian women would consider it purse sized!)
A chain strap is perfect because it helps the purse to hang well, and it’s pretty and delicate without being over-the-top. This gold crossbody bag with the classic chain strap, would be perfect for a Parisian evening out.
pink crossbody baggold crossbody bag
Most Parisians dress conservatively. They add color through blouses, sweaters, and accessories. A bag is a great place to add a pop of color (notice the red statement bag I spotted on the street, against a palette of black). While you won’t see many French women wearing animal print dresses or boldly colored pants or skirts, they’ll wear an animal print bag, red belt, or bold red purse to round out a neutral outfit. And of course, red lipstick!
Paris street style – bold red bag
I’ve discovered that carrying tiny bags is quite liberating. Do I need my laptop? No. Do I need a phone charger? No, because Mr. Reluctant P. is very good about putting my phone on the charger every time I take it off, which is about 19 times a day. Do I need a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, a bag of almonds, a pen, a notebook, and three lipsticks? Well, okay, maybe. I snapped a photo of this young lady on Faubourg, wearing a bag so tiny you can barely see it. Look closely and you’ll see the chain strap slung over her cool black jacket.
A purse I bought soon after arriving in Paris and have now used for years is the small navy leather crossbody bag from Balzac Paris. If you’re used to carrying a big bag, it will be an adjustment. You really have to be selective in what you carry with you!
My tiny leather crossbody bag from Balzac Paris, just big enough for a wallet and a Pocket edition book
In fact, here I am at Musee de Balzac with my Balzac crossbody bag! (If you’re ever in Paris, Musee de Balzac has a lovely, quiet little garden and a nice attached cafe where the barista does some rather interesting, thematically appropriate foam art.)
the author at Musee de Balzac with a small crossbody bag
Here are a few of the bags I bought in Paris. I love the classic red leather bag from Sandro. It’s special to me because I purchased it just days after lockdown ended. A few shops had opened but most were empty. I was the only person in the shop, and a red bag felt like a gift to myself after the dreary lockdown. The one I use most during the winter is the brown Balzac Paris bag, which has a rich brown embossed leather.
small crossbody bags I bought in Paris
If you must go big, go tasteful.
If, however, you just can’t fit what you need into a tiny bag, a Longchamp bag is a great choice. The Pliage is an absolute French style classic. These are quality leather pieces that you’ll keep forever. They fold over, which makes them perfect for travel. You can pack a lot into a Longchamp bag on your flight by fully expanding it, then fold it over for a smaller bag once you reach your destination. Longchamp makes a smaller version of the Pliage, called city leather tote, perfect for your strolls around Paris or anywhere.
I bought a blue leather Longchamp bag from the Longchamp store on Faubourg St. Honore a few months before we moved away, and I always use it when I travel or when I’m out and about and might buy something–as it’s big enough to fit small purchases. The classic Longchamp Pliage in nylon is also a great choice at super affordable price.
If you need to carry your laptop, a sweater, and pretty much your whole life around with you, go for something understated, like the Everlane Italian leather tote. It’s high quality leather and will last forever, so your closet won’t be full of totes you never use. When it comes to French style, quality is always more important than quantity.
The best French pharmacy products and where to find them
When we moved back home to California from Paris two years ago, one thing I missed immediately was the French pharmacy. French pharmacies are magical places where the pharmacists dispense medicine, give shots, recommend everything from cold cures to beauty products, and give plenty of thoughtful skincare advice. I brought my favorite French pharmacy products home with me. Eventually, they ran out, because these are products that I use to the last drop.
Fortunately, almost all of these French beauty products are available in the US. Below, you’ll find the French beauty brands I use every day, from the iconic, lightweight, delicious-smelling oil every Parisienne has in her cabinet to a “no-Botox” splurge that fills fine lines and wrinkles like a dream.
7 French Beauty Products for Beautiful Skin
1. Best All-Around Serum: Vichy Mineral 89 Serum
Vichy 89, at the sourcebig hair at Vichy Celestins Spa Hotelspa room at Vichy Celestins
The bottle of Vichy Mineral 89 is a beautiful blue, and the product itself feels as if you’re putting the mineral waters of Vichy, France, on your skin…because you are! The number 89 comes from the fact that this serum contains 89% Vichy volcanic water. Because it contains hyaluronic acid, it plumps up your skin to minimize fine lines. I purchased my first Vichy product in the town of Vichy, where my husband and I traveled by train for a spa weekend while my son’s ninth grade class was off mountain climbing without proper gear (that’s how they do things in France).
Vichy is home to world-famous natural springs, and before its terrible run as the center of the collaborationist government during WW2, it was a playground for the creme of French society, including Napoleon. For centuries the town has been home to various mineral springs, all of which come together under a giant dome in the middle of town.
How to use it: I begin with Vichy 89 in the morning after cleansing and follow it with the Bioderma serum. I use Vichy during the day for plumping effects but rarely use it at night, because I don’t like to put anything between my skin and my resveratrol or retinol. I also have the Vichy 89 Hyaluronic Acid Eye Gel, although sometimes I just slather the regular Vichy 89 serum on my entire face, including under my eyes.
And, just to prove to you that I first got Vichy 89 at the source, here I am with big spa hair at the Vichy Celestins Spa Hotel back in early 2020.
Bioderma Micellar Water: (I bought the petite version on my Nov. 2023 trip to Paris)
You might find American brands that call themselves micellar water, but don’t be fooled! I’ve tried those, and they tend to be oily, which is exactly the opposite of what micellar water should be. Bioderma micellar water is the gold standard, and it’s easy to find in the US and relatively inexpensive. By now, we all know that over-washing your face is counterproductive–especially in the morning, when you want to retain your skin’s moisture.
How to use Bioderma micellar water: You just soak a cotton pad (not a cotton ball) with the fragrance-free, oil-free solution and press it against your eyelids to remove eye makeup (although you won’t be wearing much eye make-up in France–more on that in another post). Swab it all over your face and neck to remove makeup and dirt. That’s the only cleanser you need.
I use Bioderma micellar water first thing in the morning, before my coffee, to make my skin feel fresh. I use it again after my shower to clean my skin before applying makeup. And I use it at night before applying my nighttime moisturizer. I repeat, this is the only skin cleanser you need! It removes makeup and oil without rubbing in the evening. It’s very light and helps your skin feel hydrated.
Tip: Be sure you get the bottle with the pink cap! The blue-cap version isn’t just water, it has an oily texture I find unappealing, and I never once saw the blue-cap version in France. It’s about $16 per bottle, and a bottle lasts me about three months, using it at three times a day.
3. Best Multi-Task Oil for Hair, Face, and Body AND Best-smelling French beauty brand: Nuxe dry oil / Nuxe Huile Prodigieuse
I had to toss my Moroccan Argan oil on the day we left California. I was delighted to discover Nuxe oil on my first trip to my neighborhood pharmacy in Paris. This light, delicious-smelling, inexpensive oil can be used on hair, skin, and cuticles. Reader, I will never go back to moroccan argon oil! Nuxe oil is a beauty miracle, a sweet-smelling multi-tasker that is a delight to the senses.
How to use Nuxe oil: I spray a few drops of Nuxe oil into my palms and blend it with my body lotion morning and night. The first time I used it, I went for a walk in the park later in the day and noticed a wonderful, light scent. I thought it was something in the park, but then I realized that the scent followed me out of the park and all the way home. That’s when I realized it was the Nuxe oil.
The air in California is extremely dry, so I rub a couple of drops into the ends of my hair after washing. If you want your friends to say, “You smell good!” when they lean in for a hug or cheek-kiss, this is the product for you! During the summer, I also keep a small bottle of Nuxe shimmer oil (Nuxe Huile Prodigieuse Or) on my bathroom countertop. This imparts a light golden shimmer and is perfect to use as a light highlighter on your cheekbones, rubbed in with your moisturizer on your legs, or to add shine to your hair.
Tip: You can find tiny bottles of the Nuxe dry oil, but if you go through a full-sized (3.3 ounce) bottle in a few months like I do, you’ll be happy you got the bigger size. The larger bottle comes with a high-quality spray nozzle, which makes it easy to spritz the oil onto your legs or hair. This is a product I always use to the last drop.
Buy the 3.3 ounce Nuxe dry oil on Amazon (this will easily last a year or longer). Or buy the small bottle of Nuxe shimmer oil.
On my most recent trip in November of 2023, I also picked up Nuxe body lotion, which smells divine and feels luxurious on the skin.
This is an overnight cream with resveratrol. It feels richer than most retinol creams and doesn’t irritate my skin the way retinol does. Antioxidant-rich resveratrol is considered an alternative to retinol. One thing it does that retinol doesn’t is protect your skin from sun damage.
When I woke up the next morning after trying this for the first time, my skin really did look different–glowy and rested. Because the cream is so rich, it feels especially nice in the wintertime or when your skin has been subjected to environmental stress.
Can you use both resveratrol and retinol?
Yes! You can use both resveratrol and retinol, just not at the same time. Retinol is a wonder at smoothing out fine lines and wrinkles with time, but it can irritate the skin. Because I’m a retinol super-fan, I alternate between The Caudalie Night Infusion Cream (resveratrol) and the Strivectin Retinol Night Oil, which is light but potent. Alternating between resveratrol and retinol gives my skin a break, and the Caudalie night cream just feels luxurious going on.
Caudalie also makes a brightening day cream that smells delicious and feels great on the skin.
Prior to moving to Paris, I had been using Boots No. 7 serum for years. I discovered Boots serum on a trip to the UK. It goes on silky smooth and is very light, but the fragrance can be overpowering. When I arrived in Paris, I wanted an inexpensive new serum to get me by until I figured out what French beauty products work best for me. The pharmacist recommended Bioderma serum, and I’ve been using it ever since. It’s light, silky, and has no noticeable scent.
How to use Bioderma serum: I apply the serum immediately after cleansing with Bioderma micellar water. I often put a bit on over my makeup when I come home after a long day. Technically, serum should go under your makeup, of course, but I love adding a little moisture throughout the day, and this serum is light enough to apply at any time. When I’m traveling, I often take this serum as my only moisturizer to keep my toiletries kit simple.
A 1.3 ounce bottle is about $33 at the time of this writing. A bottle usually lasts me about two months.
6. Best French Splurge for Fine Lines and Wrinkles: Filorga Hydra-Filler Mat Day Cream, the no-botox filler that really works (luxury French beauty brand)
We had just emerged from the first Paris lockdown when I wandered up Rue de la Boetie to the big Monoprix tucked in an alley just behind Champs Elysses. I must have looked pretty stressed, or maybe the pharmacist was just happy to be talking to customers again, because she approached me, gestured to my face, declared that I looked “fatigue,” (sorry, I can’t find the accent mark), and motioned for me to follow her. Moments later, she thrust the jar of Filorga Hydra-Filler into my hands.
Unlike the other products here, Filorga doesn’t go on with a weightless feel. Instead, it feels incredibly rich. Made with three types of hyaluronic acid, it claims to be a kind of “moisturizing water bomb” for your skin. It works really well as a filler, tightening the pores, plumping the skin, and reducing fine lines. It’s a bit more expensive than other French pharmacy brands, but after weeks of hardly leaving the apartment, I was happy to splurge. I have lines under my left eye due to my sleeping position over the years, and Filorga makes the lines noticeably smaller when I apply it over my serum in the morning. Filorga also makes an anti-aging night cream that helps maximize the benefits of the day cream.
If you like the Filorga Hydra Filler, you might also want to try Filorga Optim Eyes eye cream. The pharmacist gave me a sample that day, but I didn’t buy it until more than a year later. I had so many products when we left Paris, including eye creams, it took me a while to use them all. Made with peptides and hesperidin, Filorga Optim Eyes targets circles, puffiness, and wrinkles. It makes the skin under my eyes appear less tired and minimizes dark circles.
Filorga is considered a luxury brand in France, though it’s still much less pricey than most American luxury brands. The products really do have powerful anti-aging effects and live up to their promise of working as a non-surgical “filler.” If you’re on a tight budget, you’ll get a lot of value with Bioderma and Caudalie. If want to treat yourself to a “no-botox” product that gets high marks for its filler capabilities, Filorga is for you.
7. Best Dry Shampoo: Klorane shampooing nutritive et reparateur / Kloarane Nourishing Shampoo
Before moving to Paris, I saw Klorane mentioned everywhere, so when I saw it on the shelf at my neighborhood French pharmacy, I decided to try it. Klorane shampoo comes in several different formulas for different hair types. Living on the Bay Area peninsula, surrounded on three sides by water, accustomed to the fog, I’d forgotten how hard dry air is on the hair. My favorite is the nourishing shampoo, which is super moisturizing, but Klorane also makes a brightening shampoo for blonde, silver, and gray hair and a strengthening strengthening shampoo.
Vogue editors and other American beauty magazines frequently recommend Klorane dry shampoo, so I thought I’d give it a try.
I didn’t bring a blow dryer to France with me because mine wouldn’t work with French outlets, and I lived there for six months before bothering to buy one. Anyway, in Paris, the preferred look for hair is always natural–nothing over-styled, sprayed, bleached, or obviously blown out. Since I didn’t want to wait for my hair to dry in the morning, I would wash it before bed and then spritz a little dry shampoo on the roots in the morning. This gives you a tousled, natural look (at least, that’s what I’m telling myself).
By the by, I remember when U.S. magazines used to talk about “French hair,” as if it French women obtained magically sexy hair by washing it only once or twice a week. That’s a myth. Parisian women don’t walk around with dirty hair! The look is undone, not unwashed. Klorane does the trick: it’s has a fresh, light scent and disappears instantly.
November 2023 Update: 4 More French Pharmacy Products
I returned to Paris in November of 2023 and visited a few pharmacies to find all of my favorite products, plus some new ones. Here are my additional recommendations.
Best for Redness and Rosacea: Uriage Redness Relief Cream (Nov. 2023 update)
A pharmacist recommended this to me when I lived in France, and I bought more on my trip to Paris in 2023. A light cream that you can layer over your serums and under your makeup, Uriage redness relief cream evens out skin tone. I have pale skin prone to redness, and this works beautifully. Like Vichy products, it contains thermal water.
Best for Dark Spots and Scars: Avene Cicalfate Restorative Cream
While I was at CityPharma in Paris in November of 2023, an American tourist asked me if I knew what she could use for dark spots. I recommended Avene Cicalfate. The pharmacist, who overheard us talking, seconded my recommendation. This cream has completely faded a few dark spots on my arms and cheeks that I had for years. However, I first purchased it to soften and fade a deep scar. The results were dramatic. My husband just started using it a week ago for a dark spot on his face. Avene Cicalfate has had dramatic results. If you have dark spots or scars, this stuff works!
Best Brighening and Lightening Spray for Blonde Hair
I’m not blonde, but when I was in a pharmacy late one night looking for conditioner, I picked up up what I thought was a Klorane leave-in conditioner. Only once I got it home did I realize it was the Klorane Brightening spray intended to revive blonde hair! As it was all I had, I used it, and I loved how it subtly brightened my auburn hair.
Best Deodorant
Vichy deodorant: a light roll-on that works, even if you’re pounding the Paris pavement all day
So here’s a quick roundup of the best French beauty products to keep in your daily routine for soft, glowy, moisturized skin:
The EU has tighter regulations about what chemicals can go into cosmetics, so French beauty brands tend to be more environmentally friendly and are made with natural ingredients. They also have less fragrance, so you don’t walk out of your house in the morning smelling like you slept on a bed of bad potpourri. Like all things Parisian, French beauty brands have a light touch.
And a note on French makeup: keep it light with a soft lip!
The same could be said for makeup. If you go to Paris, leave your contouring brushes and false lashes behind! Just as stilettos scream “tourist” in Paris, so does overdone makeup.
Stick with a light tinted moisturizer, mascara, and perhaps a light dusting of neutral shadow. A red lip is classic at night, but during the day, I recommend a neutral, fresh lip. One of my favorite ways to achieve this is with the Elvis + Elvin lip serum (it has hyaluronic acid and is gently plumping). Of course, it all starts with good nighttime routines that lead to good skin. I put on LaNeige lip mask on at night before bed to make my lips feel soft and moisturized int he morning.
Why I recommend a trip to a French pharmacy
the pharmacy section at Monoprix on rue de Levis in Paris
If you’re visiting Paris, I definitely recommend that you visit a French pharmacy. It’s an easy way to experience a slice of everyday French life and bring home wonderful French beauty products that you’ll actually use. Consumables make the best souvenirs. And don’t be shy! Talk to the pharmacist; she’ll be happy to help, even if there’s a language barrier. She doesn’t need to speak English to take one look at your skin, diagnose your issues, and point out the best products.
If you want a deeper conversation about skin care and you don’t speak French, visit the pharmacy section of the big Monoprix just off Champs Elysses. The pharmacists there speak English and will not only point you to the right products, but may even load you up with free samples!
This post contains affiliate links. I have purchased and used (repeatedly) every product linked to here. I earn a small commission when you buy a product through these links, but I do not receive free products or other compensation from the brands.
iconic French sneakera classic Bretona crisp white blouse
5 All-Season French Classics from Affordable American Brands
We moved to Paris in August, which is the hottest time of year. Fall doesn’t get in full swing until late September, when the tourists leave, the office workers return, and the leaves in the Tuileries begin to change. When we lived in Paris, I loved wandering through the boutiques on Rue de Courcelles and browsing the street stalls in different neighborhoods. Although I did visit Galleries Lafayette a few times during the soldes, I found it too big, too crowded, too mall-like (it is, after all, a giant mall). But you don’t have to go to Paris to dress French for fall. Even before we moved to Paris, I was a fan of several American brands that offer elegant basics at an affordable price. While living in Paris, I realized these brands really do understand the secrets of French style.
If you want to know how to dress French for fall, think of these three words: comfortable, classic, simple. French style is about taste. It’s about not going overboard. It’s about dressing to flatter your body and to look your best, not to stand out in all the wrong ways.
A truly French outfit can easily transition from office to evening with a simple pair of shoes or the addition (or subtraction) of a layer.
Here are five affordable classics from American brands that would make you look like a local in Paris, and will make you feel good and put-together wherever you are.
It doesn’t get any more French than a striped boatneck shirt. Wear this lightweight striped Breton with jeans or any kind of skirt–maxi, pencil, or mini–and you’ll look like you just stepped out of your Paris flat. It just works.
I have J.Crew striped shirts in black and white, navy and white, and multicolor stripe. I prefer the J Crew version to other Bretons (even more than the original Breton I bought in Dinan, Brittany!) because they’re super soft and lightweight enough to be worn alone in the spring and summer. They also look great with a blazer in the fall, or under a cocoon coat in the winter. It’s a true all-season staple for dressing like a French girl, or a French woman of any age. Whatever you do, don’t wear your Breton with a beret! Just because Emily in Paris would do it doesn’t make it right. Style it with jeans, a blazer, and booties or loafers. Or you could wear it with a skirt and Vejas, the ultimate French sneaker (scroll down for more about Vejas).
Everlane also makes a very high quality modern Breton. The Everlane striped shirt is of a thicker cotton. It doesn’t have the same drape as the J.Crew version, but it’s super warm and cozy and pretty much lasts forever. (I’m still wearing a BretonI bought from Everlane in 2015!). I wear my J.Crew bretons for about three years. Because the fabric is a bit thin, they do eventually develop small holes if you wear them constantly, like I do. An Everlane Breton, on the other hand, never has to be replaced, but what makes it so sturdy–the thick, indestructible fabric–also makes it less drapey.
A silk button-down is a French style staple that elevates any pair of jeans. Of course, it can also be worn with a skirt in any season.
The Everlane version is soft, luxurious, washable, and available in several colors. It’s also relaxed, understated, and high-quality. Very French! I have the Everlane silk shirts in blue, black, and tan. They feel buttery soft on the skin.
Silk button-downs are great for travel. They take up so little space in your luggage, weigh almost nothing, and can be hand-washed and dried overnight. I never travel without a silk shirt. I’ve worn them under a crewneck sweater in the dead of winter in Oslo and layered over a sundress during spring in Sicily.
Dressing French is as simple as putting on a good, well-fitting pair of jeans. In France, Levi’s are very expensive and are considered far more of a designer item than they are in the US. So if you’re traveling to Paris in any season, pack your favorite Levi’s. I like the Levi’s straight ankle jeans, because they look cool with Vejas, sandals, or ankle boots. Pair them with a white T-shirt, striped Breton, silk shirt, or white button-down, and you’re good to go.
I remember backpacking through Europe in the late nineties and noticing young women wearing cropped jeans with ankle boots. Nearly three decades later, the same style is still ubiquitous in Europe, and it still works!
But any type of jeans that look good on you will do. If this year’s trend doesn’t fit your body, don’t wear it! Just because the fashion magazines are touting wide-leg jeans or boyfriend jeans doesn’t mean they’re right for you. Choosing the best clothes for your body is a cornerstone of French style.
Yes, you need a white button-down! J.Crew has been making them for ages. Like a Breton or silk shirt, you can wear a white button-down in any season, alone or with a blazer, with jeans or skirts, and you’ll look right at home in Paris.
Yes, a white button-down will make you look polished, with a scarf or without. Despite having lived in Paris, I really don’t enjoy wearing scarves. My favorite accessory is a gold chain necklace with a small pendant. I have several, most of them gifts from my husband over the years. I’ll do another post on jewelry, by the way, but the secret to French style when it comes to jewelry is the same as French style in general: keep it simple, and don’t overdo it. Leave the bulky necklaces and costume jewelry at home.
French style classic 5: The perfect (and very sexy) red dress from Boden
This flowy, long-sleeved red dress from Boden ($140) manages to be sexy and totally classy at the same time. In other words, it’s incredibly French. The secret is in the flowing fabric and the cut: a V-neck, cinched v-waist, long sleeves, and slightly flared skirt. This dress easily transitions from fall to winter.
This cut, with the wide, defines waistband, is available year-round in the boutiques along Rue de Courcelles but difficult to find in American stores. For fall, wear it with sneakers or booties, and for winter, just throw on a trench coat and tights. I live in trench coats all winter, and I haven’t bought a new once since 2005 because my trench coats from Banana Republic (one black, one tan) are still wonderful! For a true style staple and capsule wardrobe item, the dress is also available in black and in two floral prints.
A note on color: Parisian women may have black coats and black shoes, but they have color in their closets too! Paris isn’t New York City. All black all the time gets boring.
The dress is siren red, so the statement is in the color. When looking for dresses, remember to go with a cut that’s not too tight. Low necks and high hems are fine, but if you want to dress like the French, don’t wear both at the same time. Showing skin at the decollate and the legs at the same time is very not French.
Goes well with…
my Banana Republic trench, in Paris circa 2011goes with everythingthe ultimate French sneaker
So if you want a capsule wardrobe that would make you look like a local in Paris, just start with these five classic French styles. Add a pair of Veja sneakers or Stan Smiths to any one of these outfits, and you’ll look like you just stepped out of a Parisian bookshop. Add a small black crossbody bag to carry your pen, tiny wallet, and a single lipstick, and you’ll have nailed easy, elegant French style. If it’s cold, of course, throw on a trench coat.
In the photo, I’m wearing my black trench coat from Banana Republic in 2011, when I visited with my small son. In the photo, I’m trying to corral him outside Notre Dame. I packed the same trench coat when we moved to Paris in 2018.
About this blog: The Reluctant Parisian is the Paris expat blog of New York Times bestselling author Michelle Richmond, whose most recent novels are The Marriage Pact (available in French and 29 other languages) and The Wonder Test. Subscribe for free to The Wandering Writer to receive her posts on travel and writing.
Bonjour! I hope you are well and safe, finding a way to navigate your shelter-in-place orders. Here in Paris, we’re on Day 14 (or is it 13? of lockdown. Our lockdown has been extended to at least April 15th. My family and I are healthy and doing well.
Paris is silent and still. A few joggers are out on the streets, a few solo shoppers with groceries. Ambulances race down the wide boulevards, sirens off. There is no need for sirens when the streets are empty. At 8 pm we go on our balconies to applaud. Against the tasteful monotony of the Haussmann facades, I spotted a colorful sign of thanks – “Merci aux soignants” – “thanks to the caregivers.”
We’re allowed to leave our apartment once a day for up to an hour to do grocery shopping or exercise. We can go up to a kilometer from our home. Our leash happens to end right at Arc de Triomphe. Anyone who has visited Paris may be able to imagine how strange it is to see L’Etoile and Champs Elysees abandoned and nearly silent.
Two days ago, on my morning run, a movement in an upper window caught my eye. It was a hand, moving the curtains aside. The movement drew my eyes to the sky above the building, where the clouds were moving swiftly past. In the strange silence, absent the usual hum of tires on the cobblestone street, the clanging of the flagpole on the adjacent building had a lovely ring.
In the video, just above that flag, you’ll see the apartment where Marcel Proust lived with his family for many years. We had been here for nearly a year before I realized I was living across the street from Proust’s former home. It bears mentioning that Proust wrote nothing in that apartment, and only began In Search of Lost Time after he had moved to a different flat, one where he was besieged by terrible neighbors doing constant construction. We too have terrible upstairs neighbors with a penchant for rowdy construction and even rowdier parties, and four young children who never take off their shoes. Fortunately, the neighbors left for their country house the day before lockdown, leaving us in a state of unexpected peace.
Our hometown in Northern California has been sheltering in place as long as France has. For those who are in areas where shelter-in-place orders were issued later, I offer a note of encouragement: two weeks in, it is getting easier to be homebound. One acclimates. One settles into new routines. Despite the restlessness, there is a sense of peace that comes with knowing your community is doing the right thing, and that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
It’s also strangely relaxing. In 20 years of marriage, my husband has never spent this many consecutive weekdays at home. It is a gift and a revelation. I always assumed 24/7 cohabitation would be detrimental to marital accord, but as it turns out, one quickly figures out the new domestic choreography. (It helps if your husband has always been the better partner when it comes to dishes).
Even our teenaged son has settled in with little complaint. For the first time in years, thanks to a shortened school day and less homework, he’s getting adequate sleep, which may be why he’s in such a good mood. (For the record, I think kids have every right to complain right now; they’re the first adolescents in 102 years to live through a pandemic, so we should all cut them some slack.)
France reported more than 400 deaths yesterday, and the hottest spot of the outbreak in the country is now Paris. Sadly, we know that deaths will continue to rise in coming days, but hopefully the rate of new infections will begin to slow. We are encouraged by the news that San Francisco is flattening the curve, but we worry about friends and family back home, especially in California and New York.
Yet I am optimistic, because I can imagine a future in which we’re looking BACK at this virus, reflecting on the way it changed our lives, instead of looking nervously ahead.
Bonjour from Paris, where a bizarre new reality has taken hold, just as it has in the United States. No parties these days, of course, and no la bise. I did attend a party 14 days ago. One of the couples with whom I talked and exchanged la bise is now self-quarantined at home with Covid19 symptoms. I almost didn’t go to that party. At 9:30 that night, I was still telling myself, “Bad idea to go to the party.” But we were in the early stages of the virus in Paris, and none of us wanted to believe it was coming for us. The World Health Organization was still eleven days away from calling it a pandemic. It seemed socially awkward not to go, and I wanted to see my friends and drink champagne, so I put on my party dress and got on the metro.
The party included a lot of parents from my son’s school. Due to the timing, I believe they had to have contracted the illness after the party, but their sickness is a reminder how quickly everything goes from normal to not-normal, how rapidly we have to realign how we interact and go about our daily lives. They were both feeling perfectly fine two days ago, and then she noticed a little scratch at the back of her throat yesterday morning. Later in the morning, she had a fever. Soon thereafter, the fever was much higher. For her husband, it began with tiredness that quickly progressed to fever. It happens fast. So fast. You’re fine, and then you’re not.
Chances are, you already know someone who has coronavirus. If you don’t already, you will soon — probably within days. Whether or not they’ll have access to testing is, of course, another story.
Overwhelmed Hospitals
In Paris, as in America, it’s very difficult to get tested. The problem here isn’t a lack of tests so much as a lack of capacity. With packed hospitals and strained health care workers, the medical system is focusing on the critically ill, asking everyone who doesn’t have severe symptoms to stay home. Only a day ago, only the sick were supposed to self-isolate. How quickly that has changed.
In the past couple of weeks, I posted three times on the blog. Between Feb. 27 and March 9, things changed, but the mood was pretty much the same. Between March 9 and March 13, the numbers of confirmed infections and deaths rose, but the public response didn’t catch up with reality. Thursday night, Macron finally announced the closure of the schools. Friday morning, I awoke to the headline, “All Travel from Europe Banned.” Not normalhappens fast.
Here are my posts from the last couple of weeks on The Reluctant Parisian, tracing the mood of the city as reality crept in
Why I kept my son home before the schools officially closed (and why you should too, if you can)
Several of my son’s friends’ schools back home in the Bay Area closed early, when there were far fewer reported cases in all of America than in the Paris region. This includes Catholic and private schools in San Francisco and on the Peninsula. Even if it seemed annoying or unnecessary to parents at the time, even if it presented significant scheduling issues, early school closures are one of the most effective ways to slow the spread.
My son’s school was open last week, but the last day I sent him to school was Tuesday. From everything I was reading, the risk of being on the metro and in classrooms was too great. You don’t know intimacy until you’ve ridden the Paris metro, where the distance between your body and other bodies is zero centimeters, and the distance between your mouth and other people’s mouths is four to six inches. On Thursday, the school held an assembly, packing 90 kids into a poorly ventilated room. Earlier in the week (Monday), the kids had done yoga, and the teacher had instructed them to press their faces into the dirty mats that had just been used by other students. When the school nurse visited my son’s class to talk to them about coronavirus, she told them they only needed to wash their hands for 10 seconds. The urgency and the common sense just wasn’t there.
When I wrote on our 9th grade WhatsApp group that I’d pulled our son out of school, I discovered that some families wanted to do the same, but without any direction from the school, many felt uncomfortable doing so. Forgive the bold type, but I feel passionately about this: you don’t need permission from the school to keep your kids home during a pandemic. You’re the parent. It’s your choice.
The Are-We-in-A-Movie Moment
On Thursday night, in a sobering address to the nation, President Macron finally announced that all schools will be closed beginning Monday. Spring break starts in two to three weeks, which means schools will be shuttered for more than a month, allowing France to slow the spread at a crucial time. My son’s school is going online. The kids are still expected to “attend” school every day. They’ll still learn; they’ll just learn differently.
If you have children in schools that are still open, please consider keeping them home if this is a possibility for your family. If you can work from home, do. When communities speed up social distancing by even a single day, it can have an enormous impact on how fast, and how widely, the virus spreads. A few days of missed school is so minor compared to the uncertainty of the virus entering your home. While children have fortunately fared well so far, many healthy adults in their 30s, 40s, and 50s have developed critical complications.
My husband is still going to work, of course, because the federal government must keep functioning. I worry about him every day, as there was already a confirmed case in his workplace last week. Although he needs to see a doctor for a non-virus health concern, doctors and institutions here and at home are overwhelmed, and besides, it’s not a great time to go to the doctor if you can avoid it. This is another reason social distancing is so important. You’re not just trying to protect your family from this virus, but also from any other condition that, in normal times, would warrant a trip to the ER or to the doctor.
Social Distancing
For many families, it’s difficult to skip the playdates and the playground, the small social gatherings. For young professionals, it’s difficult not to meet up with friends. It’s difficult not to go to your place of worship or grab a coffee or baguette or takeout. Social distancing is anathema to our way of life, but what we know now is that serious, unusual, even painful social distancing is essential. It is far better to be safe and socially awkward than to engage in risky behavior. Right now, so much of what we’re accustomed to doing every day is risky.
Remember what they told you in health class circa 1988.
If you’re my age, remember your AIDS education from the 80s: “When you sleep with someone, you’re sleeping with everyone they slept with.” These days, when you shake hands with someone, you’re shaking hands or hugging everyone they’ve shaken hands with since they last scrubbed their hands. Even more concerning, the virus can last a few days on surfaces, so when you touch the metro pole or the Philz Coffee counter, you’re touching everyone who’s touched those surfaces.
Lean in to the unprecedented gift of dedicated family time.
One good thing is that we’re all going to be spending a lot more dedicated time with our immediate families. When was the last time you got to hang out with your school-aged kids without the pressures of sports, recitals, extra-curricular activities, playdates, school events, and volunteer functions? Whether your’e a family with kids at home or a couple, when was the last time you were just home together, with no events on the calendar, watching movies and playing board games and talking? When was the last weekday you woke up and made pancakes and sat around together for breakfast? If you live alone, when was the last time you stayed in every day, working without distraction, reading, writing, listening to music, and, okay, catching up on Homeland?
Sure, there’s still schoolwork, and there’s still work. For those who are able to be home with our kids right now, there’s no forcing your kid out of bed early in the morning to get dressed for school. There’s no rushing to the train or the metro or piling kids into the car. No lunchboxes to pack. There’s no coordinating different kids’ schedules, figuring out who has to be where, and when, which parent will do what, who’s driving, who’s meeting whom, etc.. This is a tremendous gift, even if it comes at a cost. It has never before happened in my life as a parent. Probably not in yours, either.
Of course, many families will not have these luxuries. For millions of families, there will be new and complicated burdens — those with health care workers in the family, those with no adult to stay home with the children, those with differently abled children who depend upon the school environment and teachers, those who are facing food shortages, devastating loss of income, medical deprivation, and other catastrophic situations. And those who lose loved ones to the virus.
These are such complicated issues, I think all of us are waiting to see how our governments and communities will respond. One thing has become clear in the last few weeks: We need to listen to experts and scientists beforea crisis happens. We desperately need a well-oiled, well-funded federal government that can respond robustly and rapidly in emergency situations. Those who denigrate federal workers and institutions, minimizing the crucial work they do for our country every day, cheering on the dismantling of the necessary systems, are now discovering like never before how much they need those workers and institutions. Underfunded, understaffed institutions threaten the welfare of every citizen.
Dreaming of California
I think longingly of our home in Northern California, surrounded by trees and beauty, with the long walk down the back stairs to the wooded canyon, where the big deer like to hang out. To wait out the isolation there, instead of in a cramped Paris apartment with our disco-playing, clog-wearing, house-renovating upstairs neighbors, would be a dream. That said, our family wants to stay together, and my husband has a job to do. So we’ll be here in Paris, waiting it out.
Fortunately, there are books. There is music. There is Monopoly and backgammon and Risk. Oh, and Netflix. Soooo much Netflix. And you can still walk outside and notice beauty. The weather is lovely in Paris right now, the cherry blossoms (or some kind of blossoms) blooming. I go to the park near our apartment in the morning, before the crowds, and look at everything in bloom. It soothes the soul. It gives me hope. It offers consistency, normalcy, and calm.
May you find your cherry blossoms wherever you are. May you enjoy your newly intensified time with your people, your pets, with the ones you love the most. May you make something, read something, remember something that has been buried beneath the busy-ness.
Eventually, we’ll be walking the halls of the schools and universities and offices again, seeing friends, grabbing a coffee that’s better than the coffee we make at home, eating a pizza that came out of an actual brick oven, giving la bise and hugging and shaking hands, watching movies on the big screen instead of living a scary end-of-the-world movie in which we’re all unwitting extras. We’ll be sending our kids out into the world to play their sports and hang out with their tribes. We’ll be back in the busy thick of it, remembering our strange hibernations, the weird solitude and surrender to a life-changing spectacle that gripped the entire world.
Coronavirus in Paris Update: March 13,2020: A few hours after I wrote this post, Macron addressed the nation live on TV. He closed all schools, creches, and universities beginning Monday.Watching the address felt like watching a disaster movie play out in real life. It was a moving, sobering, speech, in which the embattled Macron exhibited leadership and intelligence.
Paraphrasing: “This is the worst health crisis France has faced in a century. This virus has no passport and knows no boundaries…” His call for unity in Europe and the world was a stark reminder of how much has been lost in terms of credibility and leadership in America in the last three years.
“We are just at the beginning of this crisis,” Macron said. “In spite of all our efforts to break it, this virus is continuing to propagate and to accelerate.”
Today, I awoke to the news that the U.S. had “banned all travel from Europe to the United Sates.” I will admit to experiencing about two minutes of panic. I clutched my husband’s arm and said, “Don’t go to work!”
He laughed and said, “I have to go to work.” Which is pretty much always the story.
I said, “What if we can never leave?”
He said, “You’ll feel better after coffee.” Which also is pretty much always the story.
For those of us prone to disaster thinking, a full-blown actual disaster is a mine field. You see, three weeks ago, before Coronavirus was much of an issue in France, I woke shaking from a dream in which Young Reluctant P. was trying to shove me out the door, screaming, “There’s no time! We have to go somewhere else now!” It was one of those dreams so vivid that, for a few moments after waking, I still thought it had actually happened. In the dream, my son was wearing his Raiders sweatshirt. I woke because I could actually feel the pressure of his hands on my arms.
The dream has come back to me many times over the last couple of weeks. But, as Mr. Reluctant P. reminds me, if all my vivid nighttime dreams–both the good ones and the bad ones–came true, we’d be living in Sea Cliff with an unobstructed view of the Golden Gate Bridge, I’d make blueberry pies from scratch that I’d serve to Justin Trudeau*, who would be wearing a flannel shirt, and I would have to take a surprise math exam every few months–as an adult, in a room full of high school students. But none of those things ever happened. Not Sea Cliff. Not the math exams. Certainly not Justin Trudeau and the pies.
I went online and read that a certain someone’s statement had been inaccurate, and that US citizens are still allowed to return home. I read on WhatsApp that my son’s school was planning an assembly today. I thought: that is such a bad idea. So I didn’t wake him up for school. (He soon woke up anyway, because the world may end but my upstairs neighbors will still renovate their apartment all day every day, and the power may go out but the workers will still magically power their industrial-strength drills with fairy dust.)
When I went out later, I noticed that those grocery store shelves, full two days ago, were looking a little sparser. What disappears from store shelves first during times of scarcity reveals a lot about the culture. All of the regular pasta was gone, but you could still get whole wheat pasta. All of the white toilet paper–gone–but there was a whole shelf full of miniature pink toilet paper rolls.
All pasta gone, except whole what
White toilet paper: gone. Pink toilet paper: left behind.
Should you be the rare American in Paris who prefers Harry’s American Sandwich Bread in a country where fresh-baked, inexpensive bread is available on every street corner, you’ll be happy to know that Harry’s American Sandwich Bread has not left the building. Yet. Maybe not ever. If the bakeries close, all hell will break loose. After all, one of the most common French phrases is “Long comme un jour sans pain (“as long as a day without bread”).”
I worry about my friends and family back home in California, where the virus has been spreading rapidly. On the other hand, our community in Northern California, despite testing limitations, is handling mitigation so much more stridently than France. Governor Newsom has advised against even small gatherings where people cannot maintain a distance. Meanwhile, in France, with more than 500 confirmed cases in the Paris region alone, we still have public salad bars at the grocery store. I saw one today. I think salad bars are a bad idea under any circumstances, ever, but it seems particularly ill-advised during a, you know, pandemic.
Macron keeps saying the government is taking appropriate measures to address what will be a very longterm epidemic. But he hasn’t yet encouraged people to work from home. He hasn’t urged businesses to allow employees to work remotely. Nor is he advising schools to allow students to study from home.
I understand that closing schools causes disruption by preventing parents from working, and I understand that parents in professions that can’t be done from home need a place to send their children. School is a safe and crucial place for many kids and a necessity for their families. That said, Macron could limit the spread of novel coronavirus by making it clear that work, whenever possible, can and should be done from home. That would give a large percentage of Parisian families the ability to keep their children home from school.
An Oasis
I went to the park near our apartment mid-morning to get some exercise. I’ve completely stopped going to the gym, which is smelly under the best of circumstances, crowded, and poorly ventilated. The park is a miniature oasis, a godsend, a way to get a little greenery in the concrete jungle of Paris. It was recess time for nearby schools, so the kids were in the park in their bright green vests, as they always are at recess time.
In some ways, seeing large crowds of children playing tag at the park was comforting. The children seemed happy and healthy. They were loud and rowdy, as children should be during recess. They were enjoying themselves. On the other hand, a few schools with children of different grades were all running around at the same time. The CDC has advised against grade-mixing to slow the spread.
Because school groups aren’t allowed to play on the grass in the, the children were, as usual, all crowded into the dirt pathway that runs between two gates. I know you can’t and shouldn’t stop children from playing, but surely the groups could spread out a bit. Less tag, more Simon Says and jumping jacks. I’m not a teacher, and I understand it’s difficult to wrangle children, who desperately need to get their energy out. This is just a case where schools could use more serious advice from the government.
Face-planting on Dirty Yoga Mats in the Midst of Coronavirus
My son’s school held a school-wide assembly this morning. Earlier this week, they had the kids doing yoga in a basement room. The yoga mats were dirty and had not been sanitized. The room is poorly ventilated. The kids were instructed to place their faces against the mats. It’s just…why? The nurse came to homeroom to give the kids a lesson on hand washing. When one of them said, “Shouldn’t we wash our hands for 20 seconds?” the school nurse said, “10 seconds is enough.”
Long lunches die hard.
Restaurants are still in full swing at lunch time, which seems like a bad idea. But France is slow to change. When your routine is to have lunch with all of your office-mates every day, there is little effort, without government advice and leadership, to abandon those lunches in restaurants and simply carve out a space at your desk to eat. Eating lunch together is deeply embedded in the culture. But cultures must adapt in bizarre times. And this is, indeed, a bizarre time.
“This epidemic is a threat for every country, rich and poor. And as we’ve said before, even the high-income countries should expect surprises,” he said. “We’re concerned that in some countries, the level of political commitment and the actions that demonstrate that commitment do not match the level of the threat we all face.”
This includes the slow response of the Trump administration, which until yesterday was far more concerned with limiting the damage to Trump’s reputation than actually informing Americans of the facts and providing proper guidance. The United States still lags far behind other countries in its ability to test patients. This became symbolically clear when Tom Hanks, who was diagnosed with coronavirus along with his wife, Rita Wilson, told his followers that getting tested in Australia is easy, fast, and free.
There’s no putting the pandemic back in the bottle. Nations will now determine, by action or inaction, the severity of the pandemic.
DIY hand sanitizer
Meanwhile, I checked in with my gardienne today and was happy to see the aloe I ordered from Amazon.fr last week had arrived. My husband managed to find a bottle of rubbing alcohol near his workplace. My sister in Napa, whose husband is an infectious diseases expert (whose funding for years-long, highly effective research on just this sort of pandemic was entirely cut off by the Trump administration two years ago), had sent me a video about how to make hand sanitizer with aloe and rubbing alcohol.
So I am feeling excited about the prospect of becoming, at this late moment in my life, a DIYer. I will mix that aloe and alcohol. I will get my hands dirty…I mean, clean. Like all of us, everywhere, I will adapt.
Peace out. Stay safe. Much love from Paris. Still dreaming of California.
Hi, everyone. As coronavirus continues to spread in France and around the world, I thought I’d share with you a video of what it’s like to live in Paris right now. (Scroll down to watch the video, shot in my apartment, because: Coronavirus).
No Kissing – The Ban on La Bise
Just when you think everything is business-as-usual, you go in for la bise and realize Macron told you not to. You only realize this because the other person is backing away. La bise is the traditional French kissy-kissy greeting. When we moved to Paris, it was hard to get used to kissing everybody, but now that we’ve been here more than a year and a half, it’s even harder to stop kissing everybody. It turns out, as much as I dislike socializing, j’adore non-committal, low-contact kissing.
Mr. Reluctant P., on the other hand, is elated about this turn of events (the ban on la bise, not Covid-19), because he dies a little death of the soul every time he goes to a meeting with his French counterparts and the kissing starts. He’s a man who likes his personal space as much as he likes his Mallomars. At these meetings, they start the kissing before they serve the wine (and they always serve wine at the business lunch), so he is not even a tiny bit relaxed for the incoming bises. Watching my husband try to avoid la bise is like watching a tennis match: he’s got game, but French people have more.
Dreaming of California Style “Abundance of Caution”
Mr. Reluctant P. and Young Reluctant P. and I very much want to be home, even though home is a hotbed of coronavirus in the US at the moment. Some of my son’s friends’ schools back in Northern California have closed out of “an abundance of caution.” You never really know how much you love “an abundance of caution” until you live in a country where caution is thrown to the wind. Paris schools are still open, despite the rapid spread of the virus in France and Macron’s announcement that it is now an epidemic here. (In the video, I explain why the schools aren’t closing here…yet).
Plenty of Cheese, No Hand Sanitizer
The good news is, Paris stores are still well-stocked (although there is no hand sanitizer to be found anywhere) and no one seems to be in panic mode. Except yours truly, because that is how I cope. My husband and son don’t call me The Safety Commissioner for nothing.
The Champs Elysees Garden at lunchtime in February 2020
I freaked out last week and placed an order for delivery from Monoprix. The two grocery bags that arrived –3 cans of tuna, 5 cans of beans, three bottles of wine, six packages of pasta, six tiny jars of pasta sauce, more salami than anyone needs, ever, CHEESE (obviously), four boxes of soup, six liters of that sad-tasting yet sturdy Euro-milk that has a shelf-life of months instead of weeks–would hardly qualify as End-of-the-World-Ready by American terms, but it was enough that the delivery guy wished me a happy party. What the French call “hoarding” is what Americans call “a regular trip to Target.” As an American family of three whose pantry could feed a French family of six for months, we’re fine. Although: those beans! Mr. Reluctant P. hasn’t eaten a bean in the 25 years I’ve known him, and, as he pointed out, he’s not about to start now. He wanted to know why I hadn’t ordered any les petites ecoliers cookies or Mallomars…as if one can find Mallomars at the Monoprix (we wish).
Fortunately, there’s still plenty of cheese.
Video (wonky) & Audio (less wonky) – What It’s Like in Paris Right Now
I apologize in advance for the audiodrift in the video. I’m going to blame it on my inept internet connection, which drops in and out multiple times in a half-hour web-surfing session. If mismatched lips and words drive you bonkers, you can listen instead of watch. The audio version of this broadcast is available on The Reluctant Parisian Podcast, or you can just scroll down to listen to the audio file.
I’d love to know how things are shaping up in your town or city, whether you’re in Europe or back home in America. Stay safe, everybody. And, you know, avec du savon, lavez-vous bien les mains. (So says The Safety Commissioner).
Update, March 9, afternoon
By the way, I went to Picard this morning to buy some basic frozen items like fish and blueberries, wrote this post, and then looked at the news, only to see that the stock market took such a beating this morning, trading has actually been halted. The headline on France24 is now “Panic triggers stockpiling frenzy.” So, even though life goes on mostly as usual in Paris and elsewhere for the moment, the pace of change is accelerated and unpredictable, and this does feel entirely different from anything I’ve experienced in my lifetime. It’s strange and discombobulating and seriously alarming. Fortunately, we still have Netflix. And books.
Update, March 10
1,412 confirmed cases, 25 deaths.
French news media is reporting that Franck Riester, the French Culture Minister, has coronavirus. To understand what a big deal this is, you have to understand what a big deal the idea of culture is in France. Culture and everything it entails, in terms of art, music, literature, film, and theatre, is at the very heart of French identity. The French are proud of their culture, and rightly so. Riester’s diagnosis is a major symbolic signpost of the magnitude of the coronavirus crisis. Imagine, for example, if, in America, the Secretary of the Treasury (let’s forget individual secretaries of the treasury and concentrate on the position and office itself) were to be diagnosed with coronavirus.
Reiser likely contracted the virus in the lower house of the National Assembly; five other members of parliament have been confirmed to have coronavirus. He appears to be feeling, fine, however. If he and other parliament members emerge unscathed from their illnesses, it will likely make France breathe a sigh of relief.
It’s Thursday in Paris, and the headline on CNN is, “France Told to Prepare for Outbreak Like Italy’s.” I’m waiting for Young Reluctant P. to get home from school on the crowded metro, which is a germ-fest under the best of circumstances, and I’m wondering for the umpteenth time what made us decide to leave our great life and great friends and family in spacious, green, sea-swept California and move to such a dense, noisy, chaotic and very inland city, where personal space is hard to come by.
All day the workers have been drilling and jackhammering in the apartment above me, as they do every day. It’s 4:22, which means they’ll be going home soon, and the drilling will be replaced by the screaming of les petits elephants, which is a welcome substitution, and the louder, angrier screaming of the four little elephants’ impatient father, which is not welcome at all.
Over at my regular website, MichelleRichmond.com, I provide a new, unpublished short story–both a text and audio version–to subscribers once a month. Since this month’s story is about Paris, and was written in this very apartment, in the din of the drills and amidst the uncertainty of the spreading coronavirus, I thought it would be a good fit for The Reluctant Parisian.
You can listen to the story below. If you want to get more fiction (which is usually a different beast altogether than what I do here at The Reluctant Parisian), you can sign up for free monthly story here.
I’ve lived in Paris for fourteen months. By now, you’d think I would have a better accent. I don’t. My French remains abominable. I have, however, picked up on a few key French phrases.
Full disclosure: before posting this video, I played it for Mr. Reluctant P.–not to get permission, mind you, but because he is my Irish backstop. I can say that (I think) because he’s Irish. It’s his job to keep me from doing things I will later regret.
After watching the video, Mr. Reluctant P. said, “You look batsh*it crazy.” He said it in an affectionate way, not a condescending or even mildly alarmed way, which is why I did not open up a can of Alabama and all that.
I said, “I was going more for verisimilitude.”
He said, “Well, it has that. You say pas wrong, but still…”
