Foreign, Technically- In Between
High spectacle distorts proportion. Routine restores it.
What I Did
Tried a new reformer Pilates studio this week— The New Me— and was unexpectedly greeted by my favorite trainer from my regular studio, filling in as a substitute. Her instructor profile describes her as “an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove” which is both fitting and impressively strong copy. I haven’t done reformer Pilates since moving to Paris. I can barely walk.
A color refresh at David Mallett with Niko, standing in for my usual colorist. Our conversation quickly settled on our mutual love of Robyn and her upcoming tour, which we’re both impatient to see.
What I Ate
Back at Le Flandrin for lunch outside on the warmest day of the week. Voices—albeit in French— were louder than usual, everyone a little happier to be there. I ordered the lobster salad: bright, restrained, exactly what the weather required.
Dinner at a dear friend’s home: black cod (so hard to find in Paris), spinach, zucchini, kimchi, and a Samoan-style ceviche brightening the table, followed by an assortment of Japanese desserts. Conversations lingered well past my curfew. 10/10.
Where I Went
Routine French class at my daughter’s school, where humility remains a reliable companion. Verb conjugations and tenses continue to resist mastery, though I hope persistence will eventually win.
What I Bought
Later in the week, I wandered through the antique and vintage stalls at Les Puces de Saint-Ouen. I had been loosely hunting for a brooch to sharpen up a black blazer for a night out. I found a large, Cartier-inspired leopard generously set with sparkle. Exactly the right thing.
What My Dogs Did
Took my little dog to the groomer; he returned noticeably lighter and recognizable, while my big dog settled back into his routine of lounging and nature shows.
Notes to follow, from Paris.