Beth Arnold

Letter From Paris: Meet The Neighbors--Isadora Duncan

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Long about June, our friends Hooker and Greg came to visit us in Paris. The four of us with other dear friends and varied acquaintances had partaken of many high times and jovial dinners together in Little Rock, Arkansas, where the Lone Wolf and I once lived and Greg and Hooker still do. But this was the first time these designing men had come to Paris so we could have a convivial fete on or near the Seine.

A few days before they arrived, I was looking for a movie on TV and happened upon Isadora, the 1968 film about Isadora Duncan in which Vanessa Redgrave starred. I knew a few of the fascinating details about the Duncan family's life in Paris, since our friend Dolly West had known them here. One thing I hadn't realized was that Isadora's two darling children, Deirdre, whose father was theater designer Gordon Craig, and Patrick, whose father was Paris Singer, one of the many sons of sewing machine magnate Isaac Singer, had died along with their nanny when the car they were sitting in rolled off into the Seine. They all drowned.

The image haunted me. This is a tragedy from which a mother could never recover.

I did a little research on Ms. Duncan and discovered she was one of my neighbors at Pere Lachaise Cemetery. And so when Hooker and Greg were here, we set out to find this diva of dance. What we were looking for was for her name on a marble plate at the columbarium. Ms. Duncan had been cremated, and from what I'd read, her ashes were interred next to those of her cherished children.

And so after following the numbers on the marble plates, we eventually found the place where this wonderfully wild woman was laid to rest.

Letter From Paris: Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

September is here, and Paris is cool in the mornings.  A change is in the air.  Fall, as in autumn cool with some people still wearing shorts while others are wearing sweaters and tall boots, which never go unworn in Paris no matter what the season.  Not everything is open again since the August holiday just ended--but almost.  The lines are longer in stores.  The streets don't feel as luxuriously empty.

A few days ago, the Lone Wolf and I were walking up a rue close to our apartment in the 20th Arrondissement, and we found this on the sidewalk.

The image and text on the black background were so striking.  I had to take some photos.

Letter From Paris: Sit On This?

In this Paris--our city of light, history, literature, and amazing architecture with classic, stunning monuments that are known clear around the world--some of the modern design one finds on the streets, in small boutiques or big department stores is...well, silly to say the least.  I am going to use the word "naïve" in this case, and I don't mean naïve in an artistic sense as in "outsider art."  I mean as in the French don't have a sophisticated sense of pop culture. 

As a little aside but as a good example:  In a commercial in the United States of America, we might see a young, sexy couple (as absurdly over the top as we are on young and sexy) or middle-aged stars in a big budget comedy go to a store to try out new mattresses.  In a commercial before a movie in Paris, an animated couple who have the heads of dogs and bodies of humans go to the store and lie down together.  And this is supposed to be...yuck, yuck, yuck...cool.  Our senses of humor are so vastly different.

So during the sales, the Lone Wolf and I were shopping.  I was at my favorite BHV again.  And the design I found was in the vein of super heroes.  I love super heroes!  Don't we all?  Don't we all want super powers (if you could have only one, what would it be?)?!  But super heroes as design is another story.  Even if it's Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman  (Photo by Beth Arnold)

Letter From Paris: In The Details

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I say this all the time which doesn't make it any less true.  Paris is dripping in beauty.  It surrounds us everywhere we go, and in the most seemingly unlikely of places.  Besides the grand monuments that never cease to stun no matter how many times we walk by them, all one has to do is turn his head a different way, glance up or down, or from an angle that hasn't been reached on a previous walk to find something fresh and new, and for my consciousness and/or sense of aesthetics to be moved, uplifted, or stimulated. 

It could be lighting that makes the difference, or even a good or bad mood.  Even on an ugly street--and, yes, there are some--there is always something to be discovered that saves the lovely, gorgeous, or glamorous day.  And we can say:  By God, we live in the most beautiful city in the world.

Here are some details that I found on a building I wasn't impressed with on a street that went from okay-not-great to better.

(Photo by Beth Arnold)

Letter From Paris: Chateau du Petit Thouars

Crossposted at the HuffingtonPost.com.  Comments not included here.

As you all know, my daughter Blair--The Cheese Princess--is my eyes and ears in the food and wine world. She leads, and I follow. So when she was here this summer, I had to introduce her to our new friends Sebastian du Petit Thouars and his lovely girlfriend, D'Arcy Flueck--or @dupetitthouars and @chicsetera in twitter parlance.

The Lone Wolf and I had met them a couple of months before, and we were charmed. Sebastian is a Parisian hipster in the best sense of the word, a mod Renaissance man who is up on good music, food, wine, and a range of other subjects including American culture. He has a natural joie de vivre that radiates from him like a cherubic Buddha in a hot, zesty band, and he happens to be running his family's vineyard Chateau du Petit Thouars (chateau pictured above).  Not bad, as our friend M. Malric of the Hotel St. Germain once said to us with a twinkle in his eye. D'Arcy has a background in fashion and luxury goods, and it warmly shows. So naturally we wanted The Cheese Princess to meet these two.

So I snagged a reservation for us all at Le Baratin, a restaurant which we'd wanted to check out for some time in our neighborhood, Paris's 20th Arrondissement. The scoop about Le Baratin is that it's the place where Parisian chefs like to go, including Pierre Hermé. It can be hard to get a reservation, partially because it's difficult to catch someone on the phone.

Le Baratin--notice all the stickers denoting its recommended status among various food guides (Photo by Beth Arnold)

Letter From Paris: Summer in the City, 6

In my salad days in Paris, the first five years I lived here, my apartment was a few steps from the most elegant Place des Victoires.  And when the summer days of Paris Plages came to cheer the city as well as to provide a beach to those who weren't going to see one otherwise, I often walked along the iconic Seine early in the morning when the activities and stands in the plages were not yet open.  The lounge chairs were empty, and few people took their promenades. 

I enjoyed my walks along the Seine.  They're one of the things I miss most about not living in the center of Paris.  They were a treat that inevitably lifted my spirits and made me feel a little more whole.

This summer was my first in the 20th Arrondissement, and so it was that I had to plan a proper visit to Paris Plages.  I needed to sit down at my favorite riverside café, sip a café crème, and while away an afternoon or at least a bit of one.

My Trip to Paris Plages

I crossed my favorite bridge in Paris, the Pont des Arts, where I could see the blue flags of Paris Plages whipping a welcoming hello in the wind.

Letter From Paris: Requesting...Letters To Paris

Dear Readers,

Exciting news!  In September, I am adding contributing editors and columnists who will be turning creative cartwheels to deliver to you, my dears, their Parisian takes on art, design, photography, sound, fashion, decorating, reviews, talk of the town, and more. 

I have chosen each of these contributors for their expertise, talent, style, and eye not to mention their charismatic, bubbling, bizarre, or eccentric personalities.  Okay, kidding about the last bit, but they each are exceptional, and I find their points-of-view informative, stimulating, enlightening, inspirational, provocative, beautiful, and/or chic. I will continue my Letters From Paris, of course, with stories, photos, and podcasts. 

Eiffel Tower  (Photo by Beth Arnold)

It's a great line-up so be sure to tune in!

In addition, I'm also adding a monthly column called "Letters To Paris" in which I'm inviting all of you to contribute original (not published elsewhere) material.  When the mood or inspiration strikes, write me a line or a letter about your take on Paris--or an element of Paris--an amazing memory or perception, a favorite place, a heart-breaking moment, an epiphany, a slice of life, what Paris means to you and why.  You can also tell about an infuriating moment as well as a disappointing one.  If you haven't been to Paris, you can also write to me.  I'd like to know what you imagine or dream about this city.

Letter From Paris: Summer in The City, 5

Skies are airy seas in which we can lose ourselves.  In Paris, our blue yonder frames historic monuments, ancient arcades, and apartment buildings.  Paris may be gray in winter, but in summer, it's blue, baby, blue.  

Here are a few of our glorious summer skies:

Sky in St-Germain-des Pres  (Photo by Beth Arnold)

Letter From Paris: Summer in the City, 4

The sky was sunny bright blue, and the day was warm.  I was walking along the Avenue de New York to meet friend Louise.  We girls were going to have a girlfriend's lunch on this delicious summer day.

Palais de Tokyo  (Photo by Beth Arnold)

I walked by this pool, which happens to be at the Palais de Tokyo, a very cool place any time of year--but most of all in the summer sun. 

Letter From Paris: Summer in The City, 3

The Pink Panther Sunbathing with Hookah  (Photo by Beth Arnold)

I came across the Pink Panther sunbathing in Belleville.  I discreetly whispered that he happened to be getting a little pink. 

He just took another hit off his hookah and looked at me blankly, without judgment.  But there was a hint of a smile in his eyebrows, and this is when he crossed his legs.

For a little Belleville lagniappe, click on to the next page.