#72: Steal Our Parisian Weekend

One Lemaire purchase; two perfect croissants; three feline muses.

Dear subscribers, open this email in your browser to read it in full—you might be looking at a truncated version. And no one wants that!

---

Yesterday my brain kept returning to that very nostalgic feeling of loading one’s self and sandy belongings into an oven-like vehicle after spending a languid day at the beach. You are saturated in Hawaiian Tropic; your hair is a salty tangled mass; you could eat a horse. Real life was London in classically soggy form, from the top deck of a cross-city bus; it’s all too easy to yearn for a getaway (even the less glamorous vignettes of one) when you’re regretting an overly optimistic spring jacket.

Below is no beach escape—on the contrary, we were often chilly and wind-beaten, which on the bright side facilitated large volumes of comfort eating. But it was an escape, which even in small weekend-long doses does wonders for the ennui-laden spirit (I am travelling plenty; I am being dramatic).

Last month, Ivan soft-surprised me with a short trip to Paris to toast our anniversary (soft = advance warning so I could pack and book a few restaurants minus one surprise reservation). This doesn’t paint me as an effortless, whisk-away-able woman but ultimately I am not she, and we ate incredibly well as a result.

I’ve already posted two Paris lists here (one; two) and we do revisit a few old favourites, but as a true Paris romantic I figured the more the merrier. You can cherry pick spots or follow this itinerary—the Floss city guide archive is your oyster.