Once upon a time, two girls got into a car to drive to Paris. They left at 11 o'clock in the morning and arrived at 7 o'clock in the evening. Yep, that was Liesbeth and me. And of course, we often took breaks at those dreadful roadside restaurants and gas stations (which we actually quite like), but we also had some other obstacles along the way.
To enter Paris, you have to go over the périférique. A multi-kilometer highway partly through tunnels where there is always traffic. Well, that's not a big deal, you take that into account. But then you just have to have us, and the last time we drove a manual car was when we had to take our driving test (100 years ago), so that brought quite a bit of stress, sweat, shaking, and yelling with it. I'll leave the adventures of the road trip to Liesbeth, because we could slowly write a book about that. The périférique we will from now on call the péri-panic. Says enough, I think.
Finally
The bikinis were packed because the hotel was called Monitor Piscine for a reason. And indeed, a gigantic competition swimming pool outdoors with the hotel rooms around it. It was insane. It was already evening, so we were more in the mood for a glass of wine (we still had to recover a bit from the shock of our intensive journey) than for a swim. We dumped our suitcases in the comfortable room with mega high beds, a rain shower, and only products from Clarins, did a quick freshen up, and were sitting by the pool with a glass of sauvignon blanc in no time.
Le Diner
I had the big task of taking care of the catering for the weekend. We ate at Hotel de Nord. I thought it was also an Olivia Palermo restaurant. We shared some appetizers and asked for another basket of baguette (we could never really become a true Parisian). We then drank tea and wine outside on the terrace. Unfortunately no Olivia, but a lot of other beautiful and interesting fashion people.
Roles reversed
We woke up in the most comfortable bed we had ever slept in. Liesbeth immediately put on her bikini for a swim while I turned over for a bit. Then we got ready for lunch at L’avenue. Paris was warm, so with bare legs, we hopped into the taxi.
On the terrace among the stars
“Bounjour, j’ai une reservation sur la terrasse.” The service there is breathtakingly beautiful, but they are clearly only hired for their looks. Rude bunch, really. The stunning hostess pointed us to a spot inside. Ho ho, that was not the intention. After making a bit of a fuss (in my best French, ahem), we got a spot outside with a group of friendly people on the right who hadn’t worked in years and would never get their money back, and on the left a kind of Olivia and Johannes but from Poland.
Yes she is it
After I ordered my egg white omelet and Lies ordered a tuna tartare, we were interrupted by some commotion at the entrance. A gigantic armored vehicle (don’t ask me what car brand) pulled up. In no time, dozens of photographers and youth with their iPhones were ready to strike. “Could it be Kim Kardashian, Lies? After all, it’s her favorite restaurant in Paris.” And indeed, there she was, with a butt that is not normal in size. Seriously, her butt is NOT NORMAL.
After lunch, we wanted to take the metro to Le Marais as quickly as possible. The ridiculously expensive neighborhood became a bit too much for us. It’s all lovely, watching those people, but our Zara dresses suddenly didn’t feel as nice as before.
CATS
If Lies sees a cat, cat pictures, videos, or whatever she almost purrs like a real cat out of happiness. That’s what happened when we walked past the store of Paul & Joe Sisters. CATS EVERYWHERE. One adorable little outfit after another was tried on. It was almost impossible for us to leave the store without buying something. It became a light blue top with, indeed, cats.
Next stop
After some shopping, we settled on the terrace of Café Charlot for a salad chèvre chaud for me and steak tartare for Lies. It was a circus there, we were amazed at what beautiful but also ridiculous types passed by. Also again ridiculously expensive clothing, but different from L’Avenue. Long black robes with holes and crazy worn-out slippers. “It could be a homeless person or a model,” Lies kept saying. And that was exactly it.
Tash Oakley, my absolute favorite sports friend on Instagram, also walked by. My heart stopped for a moment, and I dare to admit that. That body, those boobs, that face, I want it all.
Show time
The lovely ladies from Spice PR invited us to the show of the Swedish brand HOPE at 8 o'clock. We were welcomed with a glass of champagne, said goodbye to Noor de Groot and immediately snagged her for the Look of the Day, and sat happily next to Cecile Narnix, Esther Coppoolse, and Hilmar Mulder in the front row for the show, about which we will report later today.
Dernier jour
After another amazing night in the most comfortable bed in the world, we packed our bags, checked out, and got ready for the Céline show. No, we didn’t have a ticket, but there’s always plenty to see at the entrance. We made our way there like true Parisians on bikes. Off we went, with the bag in the basket. Along the way, we bought a baguette, pain au chocolat, and a pain raisin (my favorite).
Céline
Photographers everywhere. We tried to be as friendly as possible and take some pictures with our own cameras, but you really have to be very bold and not care about your neighbor. Anna Dello Russo, Kanye West, Grace Coddington swirled by, but we were quickly pushed aside. No Anna and no Olivia, by the way. Dammit.
On y va!
Paris was over. We left at 3:00 PM because we didn’t want to arrive super late in Amsterdam. If I say that we eventually lay in our own bed at 2:00 AM, you probably already know that it was quite a long drive, which Lies will tell you all about tomorrow. Au revoir!
