When I’m in Paris I generally like to eat as much French food as humanly possible.
If it comes in garlic butter, is served with a basket of bread and a glass of wine, I’m sold.
If I could bathe in garlic butter, I would.
My boyfriend however, is slightly more human.
After a couple of days devouring French fare at every opportunity, he was ready for a little variety. Our friend Angela suggested one of her favourites, a Japanese tea house, Toraya.
The decor is very minimalist, and a little officey, save for the seasonal flower arrangements.
This no nonsense attitude extends to the menu, where you can choose from 3 set trays.
The three of us all chose the chef’s suggestion.
Bowl of rice, flavoured with white sesame and ginger gari, garnished with nori seaweed, sliced avocado, shredded crab, roe and sesame seeds. Miso soup. Savory vegetables. Jasmine tea.
As soon as you place your chopsticks down, the trays are whipped away and a box of Japanese pastries arrive.
I chose the prettiest, irrespective of their flavours!
The others declined, and sipped their teas.
Fuelled up for another day of exploring, we said our thankyous and strolled out into Paris.
The streets bathed in a golden light, and topped with that unmistakable Parisian blue.
We found ourselves in Palais Royal.
Wearing the softest of all striped jumpers and silver So Real sunglasses.
Wool pea coat // Striped jumper
Biker boots (going into their third year of hard service!)
Chanel Boy bag // Dior So Real sunglasses
The courtyard and garden of Palais Royal (originally known as Palais Cardinal) create something of a little village, right in the centre of bustling Paris.
A refuge from the city’s madness and the spectacle of Paris Fashion Week.
Though you cannot visit the palace itself the gardens, and arcades are all yours.
And they make the most beautiful place to wander.
Hidden amongst the sandstone corridors and archways, you’ll find all manner of shops and cafes.
Stroll along the mosaic floor and drink it all in.
Along side the Stellas and Acnes, you’ll find the most incredible vintage treasure boxes.
Bursting with Chanel, Dior, Balenciaga, Lanvin and the rest.
We meandered through the gardens, wallowing in the dappled sunshine.
Slowly but surely making our way to Cafe de Flore to meet old friends.
When it all got too busy, just the two of us fled to La Palette.
Commandeering a little table in the back, where we spent the evening making up for that light lunch.
We chatted and laughed over platters of cheese, meats and a couple bottles of cold Chablis.
Sometimes the simplest evenings are the ones that mean most. If I could rewind just one evening of the past year to play again, I think it would be this one.
By the time we left, nightfall had well and truly fallen.
We walked home along the river, wrapped up in each others arms, with his coat over my shoulders.
Passing by a church, we saw smoke billowing from the doors, a choir in fine voice and a huddle of people crushing to get in.
Well, if there’s anything a Brit can’t resist, it’s a queue!
We went in and found the space lit by candles, and one beam of heavenly light.
The smoke was incense burning, and we sat in its cloud, listening to the choir, lit by candlelight.
Paris, please never stop surprising me and wooing me with your magic.
