Finding Love in Paris

Even After a Few Breakups.

Bonjour Les Amis – Welcome Back.

Last time we were together, we talked about finding miracles in Paris. I confessed that I ask for a miracle most days, and without fail, they show up. But we both know that seeing a miracle (and beauty) is always in the eye of the beholder. I guess that goes for love, too. So today, I want to talk about l’amour.

I may have misled (and possibly seduced) you into this newsletter with that clickbait of a title. But welcome to Paris. She is the ultimate seductress, making just about anyone- man, woman, or child- fall hopelessly in love with her.

Fitting, I think, since Février is the month of love, and we just passed Valentine’s Day, which the French have wholly adopted. For a city so synonymous with romance, you might be surprised to know that when I arrived many years ago, there were very few Valentine’s chocolates to be found, nor was there much celebration of Halloween. But now there are, and I love it simply because it brings a little joy. And yes, it is absolutely okay to have joy. Even now.

So Paris and its habits have evolved. And so have I. And I can tell you, after twenty-plus years of living together, we haven’t always seen eye to eye. But we are still together.

Which brings me, naturally, to the subject of real love. Profound love.

Twenty years of living in Paris has taught me a thing or two about love, and the biggest lesson is this: you can fall in love, and out of love, and back in love as many times as you choose.

‘Choose’ being the operative word.

“Ne pas choisir, c'est encore choisir.” - Jean Paul Sartre

Not choosing is still a choice.

Speaking of choosing…

I have something to tell you. What I’m about to say might shock you, but it needs to be said. And I think by the end of this, you’ll understand — you might even take away a nugget or two for the next time you fall out of love with something.

Let’s start with Paris (look away if you are sensitive.)

I hated Paris.

I never thought I would end up here. Quite the contrary. I couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. After my very first experience, I made up my mind: this was not a city I ever wanted to live in.

As a teenager who desperately wanted to fit in, my first trip to the City of Light reminded me, over and over, that I just couldn’t.

Every time I came back after that, it was nothing more than a jaunt, a little weekend getaway. Convenient, yes. Two hours and a bit on the Eurostar and you’re in a different land. Interesting, but not fascinating. There was no pull whatsoever.

And then, because life can be cruel and beautiful at the same time, an opportunity arrived. A wonderful role in banking…(wait for it) in the Paris office. I was crestfallen, and yet, how could I say no?

Even as a local, trying my best, Paris smacked me down at every turn. As an only child, I came to imagine her as the very beautiful, very popular big sister who made me feel like a toad at every possible opportunity. It could be as simple as someone asking if I was injured because I’d worn gym shoes to work, or a shop assistant informing me, without a trace of hesitation, that the blouse I’d chosen was “far too small for my frame.”

It’s only been through years, time, and healing that I’ve come to love Paris.

And I do love Paris. Truly love her - probably not for the reasons you’d expect.

Speaking of reasons you’d expect…

You may think that I love Paris for the beauty, but after all this time, I have to say that I look past that and see something a little deeper.

First and foremost, I love her profoundly because loving Paris means I can love myself. Paris is twenty years of me. She has shaped so much of who I am, even the tough, ragged parts. All those times Paris knocked me down? Paris actually taught me I could get back up. Again. And again. And again.

“Paris est un véritable océan. Jetez-y la sonde, vous n’en connaîtrez jamais la profondeur.” - Honoré de Balzac

“Paris is a veritable ocean. Cast your probe into it; you will never know its depths.”

So, no. I didn’t love Paris in the beginning. But I eventually managed to fall in love with her.

I’ve fallen out of love with her several times as well. And, I’ve even threatened to break up with her on several occasions.

But we are that love affair that always finds its way back. And this is why:

1. Paris taught me that truly loving something (or perhaps someone) means you really know it. It means you can see it for what it is. It means having a love so intimate that you can clearly see all the deficits, the issues, the blemishes—and still choose to love. Paris taught me that.

2. Paris taught me that it is perfectly normal to fall out of love with things. It’s hard, maybe even impossible, to stay enchanted with our work, our situations, our lives… But here is the magic in that: it gives you the wonderful, exciting chance to fall back in love—if you’re willing.

3. Paris taught me to be confident in who I am. Not to search for someone or something else to become. Once I fully adopted and accepted myself, strong American accent and all, Paris accepted me too. In fact, this is when Paris loves me most: when I am unapologetically, entirely myself. How very Parisienne.

4. Paris taught me how to be strong. Most of my life’s disappointments, pain, letdowns, and failures have happened here in this tiny city. And somehow, not by magic or courage, but by sheer stubbornness — I just kept going.

   Paris’s motto is, after all, Fluctuat Nec Mergitur ; tossed by the waves, she does not sink. Paris demands that same spirit from her citizens, on all levels. From getting a delivery to applying for citizenship, to descaling - Susanna Schrobsdorff wrote a lovely piece about this.

5. Paris taught me to stand my ground. Literally and figuratively. There is no such thing as a queue here; lines of any form are not respected. You only need to look at the streets, the way traffic moves through the city, and of course, the ‘typical’ queue to get in somewhere (spoiler: there is none, it’s more of a mosh pit). And figuratively, if you want a seat at any respectable dinner party discussion, there is a great reward in the art of debate. Having an opinion counts; having the guts to share it counts even more.

6. Paris taught me when it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Just recently, I found myself sneaking a photo of a beautiful old wooden clock at Gare du Nord, just tucked away behind the Eurostar check-in and customs area, no longer in public view. I knew I probably shouldn't. I did it anyway. I was duly reprimanded and promptly redirected the conversation to the elegance of French clockmaking. The guard, I could tell, took personal pride in that (there is another lesson there, but I digress). And so yes, I have broken a few rules from time to time, but then again, anyone learning the French language will tell you that rules are meaningless; exceptions are the rule.

7. Paris taught me that you can make the mundane exciting. Nothing here feels left to chance, not the seating placement at the dinner party, not the way you greet someone*, and not even the simple concept of receiving a delivery. It is always ‘extra’ and in the most fantastic way.

   
   *There is a debate, even amongst the French, as to when you can say Bonsoir. Some will argue it is a hard and fast rule of 18h/6 pm, some will say according to the sun.

   “Être parisien, ce n’est pas être né à Paris, c’est y renaître.”- Sacha Guitry

   To be Parisian is not to be born in Paris, it is to be reborn there.

And we must remember that the name ‘Paris’ is just a label. The Paris that each one of us knows is very unique - it’s personal.

But one thing we know for sure is this: Paris is nothing but the sum of her parts. A mosaic of all her pieces, some beautiful and brilliant, some rugged and ugly (just like all of us) - but when you step back and take them in as a whole, they are magnificent.

And for me, that magnificence isn’t really the Eiffel Tower, or the shimmering Seine, or the gorgeous golden horizon (albeit I will enjoy a gander and will take photos from time to time.)

The clock at Gare du Nord, Jean Paul the talented artist showing how his art moves, and Louis XIV rug that was exhibited together for the first time.

It is the people.

The community that comes together, on a grand scale and a micro one. The artisans who start shy and abrupt, but by the end of it, are posing for a photo. The artist who takes pleasure in the workmanship in the tiniest of details. The vendor who takes time to tell you about their favorite huîtres (oysters), and then the fun of eating them on the market - with wine at 10 am - merci David Lebovitz and The Chefsmartypants Academy .

The little shop where the owner hasn’t changed in decades (and that, you realize, is exactly what you love most about it), the artisan who takes time to invite you in to really learn about their work. The friend that you can enjoy a three-century-old rug with, because you know seeing through their eyes is what will make it special - merci Ajiri Aki, the friend that in your community shares your work, and the work of other small businesses, merci Jay Swanson .

It’s all those beautiful little things that make me fall in love with Paris (and my life) - even when I have broken up with her.

And so, I want to offer you something to sit with.

Paris didn’t teach me about love by being easy or beautiful or endlessly charming. She taught me by being complicated, and demanding, and occasionally infuriating- and still showing me that I could make it here anyway.

If I chose.

Because choosing to love something, or someone, or perhaps even ourselves, is a choice we can make every single day.

Until next time, a prompt I’ll leave you with :

What part of your life have you fallen out of love with? And what would it look like to choose to fall back in?

A bientot mes amis!

-Jane

PS - I updated my journal prompts to focus on your Jardin Secret this winter! This is the perfect time to tend to your garden.

If you need to step away from the noise and have a refresh and reminder of how fabulous you are, take a look at my retreats, Les Saisons. They are built around you and for you - to reflect the various seasons we are all in.

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