The Beauty in Getting Lost

I came to Paris for the Chanel Haute Couture show — but truthfully, I never need much of a reason. It’s my favorite city in the world, and every trip here leaves me more creatively recharged.

Something shifts for me the minute I arrive. My energy softens, my pace slows, and I feel more at home in myself. Maybe in another life, I lived here — it’s the only way I can explain how natural it feels.

Chanel held the show at the newly reopened Grand Palais, transforming an upper gallery into a replica of its original haute couture salon on Rue Cambon. They recreated the iconic space with beige banquettes and mirrored panels inspired by the house’s Art Deco staircase. It was breathtaking.

The show opened with a custom musical score — something I always look forward to. The music sets the emotional tone in a way that stays with you. Then came the looks: structured outerwear, thigh-high boots, and rich forest tones. Timeless with an edge.

That evening, I transitioned my look by swapping the turquoise tweed blazer and silk blouse I wore to the show for a pink tweed vest — keeping on the white feather-embroidered skirt and chunky white and mirrored heels. I love mixing pieces to shift the vibe without starting over.

The dinner party afterward was filled with familiar faces from past shows. It’s always a joy reconnecting and hearing what looks stood out to people. There’s a special kind of camaraderie among people who care deeply about design, artistry, and how things are made.

One of the most inspiring moments of the trip was visiting Maison Michel’s atelier. I got to see the full hat-making process up close, and what struck me most was the level of craftsmanship — and how long it takes to create something of that quality.

They still use hand-carved wooden molds instead of newer resin-based technologies. It’s an incredibly hands-on, detailed process that reminds you: beautiful things take time. I was gifted a gorgeous straw hat, which I’ll treasure…. not just because it’s beautiful, but because I now understand what went into making it.

On a slower morning, I visited the Jacquemart-André Museum. I was craving something more intimate and less crowded than the larger museums, and this felt like the right choice.

The space is part historic residence, part art museum — quiet, beautifully curated, and full of hidden details. I spent most of my time with the sculptures. I’m always in awe of how lifelike the forms are — especially knowing they were carved without modern tools. The detail in the structure of a hand or face is such a clear reflection of mastery. It’s technical. It’s human. It made me pause.

One of the trip’s simplest highlights: a croissant from Julien, a spot the hotel concierge recommended.

The place itself was modest & no frills, not the type of boulangerie that tries to impress you from the outside. I almost second-guessed it. But the croissant? Chewy in the center, just the right amount of crisp on the edge, and full of flavor. One of those moments where you stop mid-bite and think, Yep. This is the one.

I had one of those aimless afternoons where I started off heading somewhere specific, but got caught up photographing the architecture — balconies, facades, street corners — and completely lost track of where I was.

Eventually, I realized I had no idea where I’d wandered. But instead of rushing to reorient myself, I kept walking. No destination. No urgency. Just me, the streets, and the pleasure of finding something new every few blocks.

I arrived in Paris already relaxed from vacation — and left feeling something deeper. In awe, in gratitude, and reminded that inspiration often lives in the details.

If I had to name this trip, it might be Je Ne Sais Quoi — that unnameable pull that Paris has over me, like I’m revisiting an old part of myself. A past-life version who walks slower, notices more, and feels entirely in her element.

Until next time,
Nancy