Paris Journal 2014 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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I went out for
a walk, just to walk, but gave myself an assignment, a goal, just for the fun
of it. The goal was fueled
by my firm belief that wearing sunscreen on the face is a good idea. I usually select makeup foundation with a
decent SPF to accomplish this, in part because of my freckled face. Of course I
have a favorite type of makeup, and since makeup is a liquid, I don’t want to
bother with taking it through security onto the plane. I therefore must try to find my favorite
makeup in a Paris store. I had a little
Neutrogena makeup leftover in from last summer, packed in with other things
we kept in a suitcase in the cellar of our friend’s apartment building. But the Neutrogena is really too dark for
me now (my skin pales in Paris) and besides, that makeup contains methylisothiazolinone, a chemical that I’d prefer to
avoid. So, my favorite
is Revlon Photoready. When we were in the forgotten Monoprix several nights ago, I noticed that this store,
in spite of its coffee shortcomings, did stock Photoready. But the store was about to close that
night, and I didn’t want to make my man wait while I perused the shades of
makeup. Later, I
determined that the color I need now is Golden Beige. I am no longer a Rich Ginger colored
person. I’ve been away from the
blistering subtropical sun for too long. The Monoprix up at boulevard de Grenelle
should certainly have the Revlon Photoready, I
reasoned, if the one at rue de la Convention has it. But when I arrived at the Grenelle Monoprix and looked
through its offerings, I could find only Revlon Colorstay. Curious
marketing observation: The Colorstay bottles were affixed with a label informing
French shoppers that Colorstay is the number one
makeup foundation in the U.S. Who cares
whether or not this is true; what’s interesting is that the marketers assume
that French shoppers would consider this factor to be positive, or attractive. So much for anti-Americanism! My skin likes Photoready, not so much Colorstay. I turned, exited, and with determination,
walked all the way down to the forgotten Monoprix
on the rue de la Convention. At last,
I arrived, and I found the Photoready foundation in
Golden Beige. Hooray! I also found a
warm-from-the-oven loaf of country-style crusty bread, just delivered from
some nearby bakery. And I bought some
eggs for Tom, who wasn’t feeling all that well. Scrambled eggs would be easy to digest, I
thought. When I left the
forgotten Monoprix, I was deep in thought. I didn’t realize that I’d forgotten to turn
on the avenue de la Félix Faure until I was way past rue de la Croix Nivert on the rue de la Convention. The reason I finally noticed my oversight
is just what I pointed out the other day:
past the rue de la Croix Nivert, the rue de
la Convention is no longer so attractive.
The ugliness of the big, blocky institutional buildings with no retail
on the ground level woke me from my trance. I turned around
and made my way back to the graceful avenue Félix Faure. So by the time
I returned to the apartment, I’d had quite a walk! Later, at
dinnertime, Tom wasn’t feeling up to fancy food, so we walked down the rue du
Commerce to the brasserie across from the church. It is called A La Tour Eiffel, and it is
the first place we dined together in Paris, in August 1998. We studied their specials, posted on a
blackboard on the outdoor terrasse. They
looked good, but Tom decided he would be best off with a plain old hamburger. That’s
something we can always find at the Commerce Café, the brasserie on the Place
du Commerce, by the Commerce metro station.
In fact, that café has about 10 different types of burgers to choose
from, as well as freshly made pizzas (pizza man is out where you can see him
spinning and tossing the dough). We settled into
a table at that café which we call our neighborhood pub, and a new server
came over with a sullen look on his face to ask for our order. I had to ask him to please let me see the
blackboard. He was a little
surprised. He had wrongly assumed that
we spoke only English, since he’d heard us say a few words to each other when
we entered the place. Sure enough, I
found what I wanted at the bottom of the long list on the blackboard: moussaka! I don’t think I’ve had moussaka
in the past 20 years. Why, I don’t
know. I do love eggplant,
and Greek food generally. Le Commerce
Café’s moussaka was scrumptious. The bottled salad dressing on the
accompanying green salad was not. Tom’s burger
was good. It had that mysterious “sauce Americaine”
on it. We never have been able to
determine what “sauce Americaine” is, since it isn’t American at all, and
since every time we have it in some brasserie, it is different. Sometimes it vaguely approximates the old
Frisch’s special sauce (only people who have lived in Indiana, Kentucky,
Ohio, and Tennessee have any idea what this is), and other times it is closer
to a substance that might make you think of Thousand Island Dressing. Anyway, I
believe that “sauce Americaine”
is not well defined in la cuisine Française, and therefore it would be impossible to
determine if a resto’s “sauce Americaine” is “correct” or not. Perhaps no
American food can be “correct,” and therefore, it doesn’t matter what the “sauce Americaine”
is like. Who knows? C’est un mystère. The burger Tom
ordered was the “Lou Burger.” Another
option is the Obama Burger. It, too,
includes the mysterious “sauce Americaine.”
Maybe the President can order one of these next time he comes to
Paris. (Would one of my politically
connected friends please at least tell him about it?) When he was here once several years ago, he
said, “I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t want to spend more time in Paris.” Right on! While we’re on
the subject of the American Presidency, I have noticed that the French
translation of Hillary Clinton’s latest book is displayed front and center of
almost every Parisian bookstore’s window.
It must be a best seller here.
I have read that she is very popular and highly regarded in France. The book I’m
reading right now is Émile Zola’s The
Belly of Paris. I find the plot,
the storyline, to be somewhat contrived.
But the description of Les Halles and all the
food there in the late 19th century is great fun to read.
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Tuesday, August 5, 2014
This
plant in the Parc André Citroën reminded me of this image from the New York Times (below).
Église Saint-Christophe de Javel.
Front
window of the bookstore nearest us, on the rue du Theatre. |
