We booked our tickets on a Friday in November for an impromptu trip across the pond. We flew on Virgin Atlantic with the coquettish flight attendants in their head to toe red ensembles out of JFK.
The ONLY time to go to Europe is in late Fall or early Winter. In Spring and Summer, it may as well be an amusement park. Tourists, tourists, tourists.
In November, we were left with only the natives and the architecture. The cities are stripped to their bare bones of everything, but what matters. The cyclamen decorate the city like a garland. They are everywhere.
We’ve been to Paris so many times that we couldn’t care less about the monuments, but nobody can resist a trip up the Eiffel Tower; at night.
The air is brisk when you walk around, so you need fur hats. Louboutins are absolutely null and void. A sharp pair of fur lined LV sneakers are the only appropriate shoe, but we did take our Loubs out of our totes to walk into the Ritz in proper style.
We broke down the city into arrondissements. Each one with its own style; its own flair; its own personality.
We didn’t stay out much past dark. We returned to our Parisian apartment at the Saint James Chateau and watched Gossip Girl like fiends to stave off jet lag. We hung out. It was lovely.
