Fed up with the commute, after picking Ruby up I decide to cross Franklin Roosevelt Bridge and visit Champs Elysee. The Seine, Eiffel Tower, Arc De Triomphe, Concorde, Grand Palais, are all around me, with the Louvre in the distance. To view all of these sites within ten minutes walking distance from my daughter's school is mindblowing.
Amidst the fashion elite of Paris I am feeling a little underdressed in my jeans and skechers. Trying not to look too obvious the American tourist, I try my French out every chance I get and find the men appreciate it more (apparently zit is very sexee to try to speak Fraanch to zee Fraanchmaan, think of how sexy we find them trying to speak English!)
I find myself in Zara, (the only mother with a pram I might add), whilst all the other coiffed French girls look at me with disgust as I repeatedly say ‘excuse-et-moi’, so tempting to run over their pointy toed shoes with my pram in the process. Then I successfully manage to ask for a different size in French, but they immediately know you’re not French and answer in english.....tres annoying!
Then I visit what has to be the most expensive shopping mall in the world, Champs Elysee 26, with marble floors and fountains and shops that only Michael Jackson's eclectic taste would cater to, the wealth is staggering......I've just gone in to use the public toilettes which are very chic indeed, too good for our peasant poop surely.
Walking back around the corner from Champs Elysee, I see a very tall, thin, model esque brunette stop to take her heels off and put flip flops on, stuffing her Manolos in her huge handbag. I smirk, hah, they’re feet aren’t made of steel after all!!
· Saving grace - Retail therapy definitely works, and I've discovered a home away from home on our very own street; a Parisian version of Scallywags called Bambin Troc, a lovely looking restaurant called Lucas, and a funky jewellery shop called Lotty!
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