Shiny brass letters on a 500-year-old stone wall proclaim "patissier" and promise sweet heaven inside. Walk past any boulangerie and you don't need a sign to know everything inside is no more than an hour old.
Across the street, behind us, a bored shop girl with a thick blonde ponytail flips through a fashion magazine, perhaps dreaming of her own pretty self on the runway. I know what makes a French woman or man truly beautiful -- it's the thick, dark eyelashes and mysterious narrow brows. They frame the eyes and add depth of expression. Mascara is wholly unnecessary for these natural beauties.
Ancient arched doorways, thin streets between tall buildings that block out the March sun, tiny café tables with chairs brazenly facing the street, leather blazers, labret piercings, motorcycles and scooters everywhere, mussed ponytails on women, short Caesar cuts and sideburns on men, every other person leading a very pampered little dog on a leash (yes, there really are more poodles here), cell phones, baguettes, dark sunglasses, cigarettes at every lip and clouds of blue smoke.
Those were the streets of Paris.
--from A la Mode in the Marais District
What I'm wearing: Black, pink, grey & white print dress, made by Donna | Black tights, Calvin Klein | Black pumps with silver buckles, Kenneth Cole | Silver & amethyst bat necklace, Jewels by Olivia | Garnet & pearl earrings, London National Museum