Paris Vs. New York

I went to New York for a few days this past week. I was only in the city, above the ground, on 7th Ave, for about ten minutes.  I kept to Long Island to watch my cousins while their parents were at a wedding. Still, New York is one of my favorite places in the world.  The great, new show, Girls, on HBO, has even convinced me to move to New York after Paris (natural progression, vraiment?).
Donc, I thought I would post these lovely prints for your viewing pleasure...

Adieu, Mademoiselle

Via The Satorialist

In elementary school, when we were taught letter writing, we were also taught the proper way to assign titles.  In a Southern third grade classroom circa early 90s these were the rules...

Mr.- For any and all men, naturally.

Mrs.- Reserved for a married woman who has taken her husbands name. 

Ms.- For a woman when you are unsure of her marital status, or God forbid, is divorced.

Miss- an unmarried woman. 

Fifteen years later, these rules are, as you can see by my blogging name, engrained in my head.  The first time I encountered a break in understanding was at the airport when my ticket read "Miss Lindsay Mc..." I had my ID checked more times then I can remember, and when I questioned the attendant upon boarding, he told me that Miss was used to identify travelers who were under the age of thirteen and that I was basically a weirdo.  "Well I never!" and indignantly as possible, snatched up my ticket and stormed into the jet bridge tripping over my carry ons.  

The next time the issue arose was when I was subbing at a Baltimore City high school.  Per usual I wrote my name "Miss McC..." in beautiful flowing cursive on the chalkboard.  For the students who could read cursive, I was asked what"Miss" meant.  They had never seen or heard it used before!  I took this to be a cultural difference, but have now discovered that Miss was becoming obsolete and used only for young girls or adolescents. 

Across the pond in February, the French have banned the use of one of their most iconic words, "Mademoiselle," on all official government documents.

La Vie Sucrée en Paris

Well, I said I was moving to Paris earlier...but now I am really moving because I bought a one way plane ticket to Charles de Gaulle for August 7, 2012.  Yowza... or shall I say, Sacre Bleu!
In preparation for my upcoming trip, I have been trying to relearn what elementary French skills I soaked up in high school and college: "je m'appelle Lindsay, comment vous vous appelez?"; listen to lots of French music hoping for some kind of language osmosis; and read everything I can about Parisian life.
I was torn between quite a few books at B&N but ultimately decided on David Lebovitz's book "The Sweet Life in Paris."  I tore through it in a weeks time, and while Lebovitz paints a tres belle picture of Paris and becoming Parisian, he offers a few unsettling tips...

1.  And this was the worst.  According to Lebovitz, if you leave your house you should be dressed.  As in, Parisians don't think it's okay to run errands or go shopping in pajamas, sweats or yoga attire.  Even if it is $160 lululemon outfit?  Oui.  He says he wouldn't even think about taking out the garbage (la poubelle!) in sweats. I am okay with the pj rule.  I wore that out in college, and when I look back am a little ashamed of how many classes I went to in fuzzy christmas jammies.  But yoga pants?  I practically live in yoga clothes if I'm not at work, and as I type am trying to remember where I put mine so I can go to the grocery store.

2. Bad coffee.  Who would have thought Paris had only comme ci comme ca coffee?  Some of the first vocabulary I was taught in French 101 was cafe au lait.  And that is only to be ordered before noon says D.L.  Oh Woe.

3.  Ne touchez pas!  If you touch something in a store or market, consider it yours.  Only pick something up if you are serious about making the purchase.

4. Resquillage.  Apparently Parisians are horrible line cutters or otherwise known as "resquillage" or "taking the risk".  I would not stand for this in America, so I am not sure how I would react with my less than deft language skills and being impossibly offended and angered.  Lebovitz answer is to stand uncomfortable close to the person in front of you.

5.  Toujours...always always greet the first person you lock eyes with when walking into a room, restaurant, elevator, etc...and then everyone else. It's considered extremely rude not to do so and the only exception is in the "grand magasin" or something similar to a grocery store or department store where the service is terrible.  And we think Parisians are rude.


Right now I am in the midst of "My Life in France" by Julia Child and meandering through "A Moveable Feast" by Hemingway.

Paris, je t'aime... I hope

Bonjour mes amis!  Big news.  I am moving to Paris in August!  For a year!  Sacre Bleu!
In the process of creating my "France Bucket List."
I imagine this will take this new blog in a completely different direction in a few months...

Test

Test test test test test