water lilies, eiffel tower, influencers galore

I woke up at 6:30 this morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. From the way Abby’s alarm went off at 7:20 and the manner in which she slouched over to where her phone was charging to turn it off, I gather she doesn’t exactly feel the same. But she perks up soon enough—we get ready and are out the door by 8:15.

Back to Mamiche where we pick up our first croissants of the trip—we’re lucky enough to have the trendy spot right downstairs so we can beat the lines. On the metro, we squeeze into a car with what must have been a fire-hazard amount of people. Rush hour! But we eventually make it to our stop, and emerge to glimpse the Eiffel Tower for the first time this trip. I’m enamored, and Abby decidedly less so. No time to ruminate on that now though—it’s time for the Orangerie!

With smugness, Abby and I march past the tourists queued up, and enter with our pre-purchased tickets. Coming at 9 AM proved to be a fantastic idea—not yet had the throngs of people marched their way inside. We were able to enjoy Monet’s massive panoramic water lily paintings with the room being quiet. Not yet had too many wannabe influencers started filming themselves with GoPros. In fact, it made me a bit glum—the mobs of people using Monet’s work as a background, instead of appreciating the art in front of them. It seemed to me that about 75% of people took the picture, got the content needed, and left. Abby and I continually quoted this:

“In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.”

• J. Alfred Prufrock

We sat in the center and stared at the artwork for a while. Meanwhile, I was also looking at the outfits of the people passing through, and making a list of what was going to be soon out-of-trend, or incredibly dated. What good is a young person’s mind for if not some good, old-fashioned multitasking? From far away, it’s difficult to see the complexities in his paintings; however, when you step close, it’s like a whole different lens is somehow provided. Washes of lavender, semi-circles of blue-green, and the odd pop of pink for the water lilies. It’s magnificent. Downstairs, the Orangerie continues to be charming—we make our way through slowly but surely. My favorites are decidedly the ones by Marie Laurencin.

After a hit to our wallets in the gift shop, we make our way to lunch. We stop at a place called Café Concorde, where Abby gets a Caesar salad, and I get French onion soup. I am under the firm belief that it is always soup season, even on the most sweltering of days.

Then, onto the Eiffel Tower! We wind through the streets, using my excellent sense of direction (I can see the tower above the rooftops) to guide. I even got stung by a bee, and still, was not deterred. Upon arriving at the lawn next to the tower, we’re stopped by a Thai influencer, who’s sponsored by some setting spray. She’s having strangers help her with her makeup—so Abby ends up doing her eyeshadow, and I with her lipstick. We find a grassy patch and sit down to read—Abby on her Kobo, me on my Kindle. Well, it’s almost all reading. We decide we’re even more disheartened by the influencer community after watching a mom film an advertisement with her daughter, who is dressed in a 6-7 shirt. All I can think is—man, she’s going to hate having that online in about five years. We’re like this for about an hour, and then we decide the grass is itchy. Let’s get our photos and leave.

We get our pictures, and then back on the metro we go! We ride down to the Palais Garnier, which is Abby’s hotspot. Though the outside is being redone, the gift shop welcomes us with open arms, ready to take our money. Abby easily spends over a hundred dollars, acquiring two new shirts and a faux-velvet tote bag. There’s only more shopping to come.

We march on down to the Galeries Lafayette, and head up to the Jellycat Pâtesserie. It was absolutely packed—you’d think it was the barrier for a view to some popular music artist! But no, just loads of people clutching for dear life onto overly expensive plushies. As I hold my own pink macaron, deliberating, I realize it would make me feel sort of pathetic to spend twenty-five euros on this tiny stuffed animal, and even more so to stand in that winding line. So then I go spend the money on the souvenirs upstairs, which I think was ultimately a better option.

Abby buys a Smiski (and gets the one she wants!), and we walk back to the loft after a short stint at a park to plan our next move. We end up crashing for a bit, but then go on a walk for some ice cream; we end up at a place that gives their flavors funny names, which has always filled me with a certain dread. Then we follow the streets, winding through some lesser populated streets. We end up in an Indian ethnic enclave—home away from home, am I right?

Back to the loft for real this time; it’s about 9 PM and time for dinner (leftovers, super exciting).