Friday, 3 August 2012

Picasso, Hemingway and Me

Early this morning we set off, map in hand, to find 7 Rue de Grenelle.  It is on a corner in a wealthy area of the East Bank.  For my friends Jenny, Caro, Robyn x 2, Rosie and Nancy, plus Ally, this address has significance.

It is the setting for the French best seller, made into a movie, The Elegance of a Hedgehog.  I stood right outside, looking for the entrance where Renee Michel would sweep and clean, emerge to do her meagre shopping.  Below now is a Prada store and the corner opposite YSL.




We walked all around the block, just in case there was a back entrance.  But I will have to content myself with the knowledge that, if that property of rich and troubled Parisennes existed, I stood right outside!

Next was a walk to find somewhere to sit, read and sip coffee.  By sheer chance, we encountered Les Deux Margots, a cafe (hello Sister Barb) of significance in artistic and literary circles.  Luminaries like Picasso, Hemingway, Sarte, Simone de Beauvoir all frequented this. Famous cafe, established in 1884.




We chose a table outside, to watch this intersection of Paris and all the bustle.  We ordered coffee, as at only 10 in the morning I wrongly assumed it was too early for a Kir Royale.  An sms from a Barb corrected this misconception, so it was duly ordered.




Inside the decor may not have changed.  I stood with my camera to snap the rows of bottles in their preparation area.  But a tall man in a suit asked me not to.

This is our back stage, it is messy, we prefer you don't, he requested.

To me it is amazing, but I will defer to your request, I replied, with my best little reverent French nod of my head.

A delivery van had left dozens of crates of drinks on the pavement edge, beyond the tables.  One man, using a metal pole with a hook, was dragging several at a time inside.  They were put onto a dumb waiter type platform, and mechanically lowered to storage below, with the two halves of the floor closing over the top.

Over the road was a mid size church.  I went inside while Rob tried to locate us on the map.  The rich had square stone pavers on the floor and instead of wooden benches, individual rush-covered chairs. The high ceiling was sufficiently gloomy that the rings of eight lights set along both sides seemed to glow unsupported, as around each circle of eight bulbs, it was so dark.

We passed many amazing shops on the way home.  Not huge stores, little boutiques and galleries, with amazing clothing, shoes, handbags, works of art.

Paris is the city to be if one has a credit card with sufficient funds to indulge oneself.  I must be content to merely look.

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