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Hello Crush,
My first trip to Paris was with Greg, a new then-boyfriend who had proposed a four-day trip over Memorial Day week end. The night we arrived, we went to a neighborhood brasserie that had been recommended by a Parisian friend who worked with me. I had salmon.
Later I felt weak and wrenched with nausea. I spent the next two days laying on the cold tile of the bathroom floor next to the toilet, vomiting. My face was flat against the tile one minute, the next it was tipped over the toilet bowl. Back and forth. Floor, toilet rim.
Food poisoning. Poor Greg spent the next day at the pharmacy trying to find a cure, then earnestly circling around me in the bathroom until I finally lifted my head to glance at him, with — I remember this clearly — a strand of hair with barf in it stuck to my cheek — and said “Really, go out. There’s nothing you can do but enjoy Paris, for both of us.”
He did, thank god, for both our sakes.
It was a vicious case and I wasn’t up and able to eat until the morning we got back into the cab, passing all the Hausmann architecture on our way to DeGaulle Airport.
Paris and I didn’t start off on good footing. I avoided it for years, but then girlfriends were planning a trip that I joined. A year later another group wanted to meet there before our London Christmas fete. I once ended up there alone for a week when the friend who insisted on going had a family emergency the day we were departing. Slowly through the years I warmed up to the City of Lights. But I never chose it. For major Western European cities, give me the warmth and relaxed elegance of Madrid any day. The northern Italian chic of Milan.
My recent trip was probably my 1oth trip to Paris. I went with my nephew. He’s well traveled throughout Europe but hadn’t spent time there. On our last night, as he and I were walking back from dinner in the 11th arrondisement to our apartment in the 7th I asked how he would compare it to other European cities. He replied that it is remarkably beautiful at street level, which you see because it is so walkable. Because of the height restrictions on building, it is human-scaled everywhere, he continued. The smaller scale makes the stores and restaurants so intimate and it‘s their intimacy that create so many exquisitely personal moments. I was like “Yeah. Yeah, that’s true,“ as I looked into the window of a wine bar and noticed all the friends and lovers gathering.
After he left, a close girlfriend joined me for a few days. We live in different cities now and I can’t imagine a better backdrop for two close friends to spend time together — all the tiny shops where one of us would comment on what looked great on the other, or would look great ”you should try this on, with your eyes, wow!” — all the tiny cafe’s and bistros to linger in over languid conversations.
It’s the perfect setting to be in with somebody you want to be close to. You can’t be detached in Paris. It’s designed for intimacy. Yes, there’s its dazzling beauty, but that serves mostly to heighten the imprint of those intimate moments you are sharing with a nephew, a friend or, perhaps even a lover. I hadn’t appreciated Paris in quite that way before. Now I want to go back with everyone I like being close to.
I left Paris in love with it, at last.
In This Letter.
+Paris Notes by Dish Stanley. By no means a comprehensive guide.
+French Women Don’t Get Facelifts: The Secret of Aging with Style and Attitude: Mireille Guiliano. Reviewed by Evie Arnaude What is, perhaps, distinctly French (aside from Guiliano’s ever-charming very-frank phrasing), is the overall acceptance of aging throughout the centuries.
+The Mystique of French Beauty and How to Get It. by Lauren D. Weinstein. I may not be a total Francophile — yet — but I have been inspired to reevaluate my views on beauty and attempt to adapt some French flair into my choices and routines.
+Book Review: Under the Roofs of Paris by Henry Miller. Reviewed by Christian Pan. Readers contemplating reading Under the Roofs of Paris should note that there are numerous passages in this novel which are quite unsettling.
+Our Song of the Week Here she comes
Paris Notes for Sarah (and You, Dear CRUSH) by Dish Stanley
CRUSH Reader Sarah wrote to ask for Paris tips and recommendations.
Dear Sarah: I have been to Paris twice in April over the years — bring an umbrella! — it rained every day both times. But only a light rain, and nothing could dampen your joy at being there at the start of spring. This is by no means a comprehensive guide, but I’m sharing my notes on Paris.
Enjoy!
Concierge Services that will make your reservations / get your tickets / book your appointments for you - contact them as far in advance as possible.
- Where Should I Go? I used this concierge for my recent trip. I sent Jeremie and Linda a list of restaurants to book and things I wanted tickets for, then they made further suggestions based on my taste. They price by the number of things you want reserved.
- Paris Perfect Concierge I didn’t use this one myself, but a friend who regularly stays in the Paris Perfect apartments (and likes them) recommended this one.
- Bespoke Custom Art, Design & Fashion Tours The Seen Paris for contemporary art and design access and Le Coup De Foudre for fashion and design (and related) experiences.
Favorite half-day private tour (would do another one):
La Route des Gourmets food market tour, Marche d’Aligre, 12th (David Lebovitz’s favorite food market in Paris.) Interesting dive into Parisian food culture if you want to understand eating in France. Covers the meaning of different food denominations and types of bakeries as well as how to shop at one of the open air food markets, led by a former restauranteur, Carole Metayer. (I arranged a custom, private one but there are group tours too.)
Reliable Car Service:
- Allocab (download the app). You can reserve pick-up in advance. It is higher priced than a taxi but well below private car service prices. I reserved in advance for a pick-up at our Air BnB for every evening reservation so I knew we would get there on time.
For buying inexpensive luggage to haul things home in Rayon d’Or, locations all around Paris.
What I read on Paris dining/food:
- David Lebovitz’s Substack
- Let’s Eat Paris, a thoroughly researched book by Francois-Regis Gaudry, a French food journalist; also follow him on Instagram @frgaudry
For more of my notes on Paris, continue reading here
French Women Don’t Get Facelifts: The Secret of Aging with Style and Attitude: Mireille Guiliano. Reviewed by Evie Arnaude
Our opinionated reviewer celebrates this book’s appreciation for aging, the French way.
Before we discuss Mireille Guiliano’s 2013 French Women Don’t Get Facelifts, we have to agree that this, like many books of its kind, is not meant to be a blanket statement about beauty, or create a regional hierarchy, or even a condemnation about plastic surgery. This is a fun book full of potential tips and tricks, and important reminders that getting older is beautiful in and of itself.
A follow-up to 2004’s French Women Don’t Get Fat and 2006’s French Women for All Seasons (and there have been many more since), this book continues the franchise of tidy tidbits of advice on how to age gracefully. Though “facelifts” is in the title, it’s the subhead that represents the book’s overall sentiment: The Secret of Aging with Style and Attitude. While all regions have their own special something, French women have always possessed “that thing” we’ve wanted to bottle for centuries.
What is, perhaps, distinctly French (aside from Guiliano’s ever-charming very-frank phrasing), is the overall acceptance of aging throughout the centuries in France, a place known for its beauty and style. It was Carrie Fisher who famously said, "Men don't age better than women, they're just allowed to age.” A member of an industry that demands women stay young and beautiful in order to work, most of you reading this right now are possibly members of a community that demands you are young and beautiful, also. (Are you one of the oldest members on your management team, for instance?) The pressures to retain and long and forgotten youth are everywhere, even if we’re not aware of them.
As we’ve already established, it’s a mistake to approach this book too literally, as it’s full of “do this not that (oh, wait--and also do this)” lists, combined with personal tales from Guiliano’s life experience. This is one woman’s opinion. (If you’re lucky enough to get this on audio, it’s offered as one woman’s opinion read in her own French accent, which is truly wonderful.) The combination of it all creates a tutorial for how to make your life—your skin, your hair, your clothes, your self-care—living art. And this process will change and grow as you do—and it’s all okay.
Continue reading here
The Mystique of French Beauty and How to Get It. By Lauren D. Weinstein
Want to look and feel French wherever you are? Here’s how to capture that special je ne sais quoi.
Lately, I find myself craving and indulging in anything and everything French, with the exception of lighting up and puffing a Gitanes. For breakfast, I’m eating a baguette, smeared with Nutella instead of a bagel and cream cheese. During dinner, I find myself slowly sipping a velvety red French pinot noir while listening to Charles Aznavour sing his melancholy classic, “La Boheme” on my vintage turntable.
I blame this current fascination on my recent binge watching of Emily in Paris. The show is a beautifully wrapped fantasy, flooding my senses with opulent locations that could only belong to The City of Light and the colorful, often over the top, fashion choices. Ogling the jaw dropping beauty of the entire cast, I wonder if everyone in Paris is that c’est magnifique? Not to mention the sizzling performance by Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu who portrays, badass boss, Sylvie Grateau in all her steely, glorious, feminine power.
The French have an edge, a seemingly nonchalant, effortless beauty sensibility. It’s an elusive quality that’s coveted yet difficult to pin down. I may not be a total Francophile — yet — but I have been inspired to reevaluate my views on beauty and attempt to adapt some French flair into my choices and routines. Throughout history, the French have been captivating and challenging the beauty aesthetic for centuries, from the lavish excess of Marie Antoinette to the minimalism of actress Lea Seydoux.
Whether you prefer the stereotype blonde bombshell Brigitte Bardot, or the allure of the beret wearing beatnik, Francoise Hardy, there is more to French beauty than a casual swipe of quintessential classic Chanel red matte lipstick or a flick of black eyeliner. The looks may be unique, but they share a style that exudes unapologetic, self-confidence and acceptance.
Continue reading here
Book Review: Under the Roofs of Paris by Henry Miller. Reviewed by Christian Pan
Our reviewer revisits this 1940’s genre-making piece of erotic literature written in Miller’s signature, brutal candor.
Christian Pan is a writer based in New York City who has published more than a dozen novellas and over one hundred short stories focused on the erotic imagination since 2021. He also hosts the Pulse Session for the podcast All the Filthy Details, and is a contributing writer for Artistic Edge Magazine.
Sex, sex, and more sex. The kind you want to read in erotic fiction as well as a whole lot of episodes and situations you didn't expect, including ones that are hard to stomach. Under the Roofs of Paris might very well be one of the most explicit and profane books you will ever encounter; and yet, for all of the sex described in the pages of this novel, I'm not sure if I would necessarily call this book “erotic.”
True: every chapter of Henry Miller's 1941 book contains multiple sex scenes–between men and women, men with men, women with women, and groups of people completely entangled in their lust. But also true: few of these scenes contain tenderness or affection, nor the expressions of interest or declarations of enthusiastic consent some readers may expect from contemporary erotica. The characters wandering the streets of Miller's fictional Paris are both brutish as well as brutally lecherous; their sexual encounters feel less than human, almost like wild animals pouncing upon one another in the jungle. Also, readers contemplating reading Under the Roofs of Paris should note that there are numerous passages in this novel which are quite unsettling, even if they are completely fictitious. In addition to all of its other sex scenes, the book contains a few scenes of pedophilia, including one of father-daughter incest. There are a number of scenes depicting sexual violence and rape, and instances where consent is dubious for these characters (frequently women). At one point, Miller extensively describes the orgiastic ritual of a secret Satanic cult over a few chapters; yet for me, in the context of the book as a whole, those didn´t disturb nearly as much as some of the other scenes. Under the Roofs of Paris is completely filthy, and about as far from political-correctness as one can get. It is not for the faint of heart.
As a writer, Miller rarely makes his truths palatable, choosing instead to put onto the page all of the filth, amorality, and detritus of humanity that he could. Frustrated by the conservative values of his time, his debut novel Tropic of Cancer blurs the line between fiction and autobiography, and challenged notions of what was considered “taboo” to include in American literature. Published in France in 1934, Tropic of Cancer remained unavailable in the US until 1964, after Grove Press, its publisher, won a series of lawsuits.
Continue reading here
Song of the Week
Femme Fatale by Carla Bruni
Carla Bruni, the former Italian-French supermodel (and wife of Nicolas Sarkozy, France’s former President, for a while) was also a singer songwriter for a few years beginning in 2003. I remember when I first read that she had put out her first album in 2003. Not that a supermodel can’t also have a beautiful voice, or be a great actress, or be a human or animal rights activist, etc., but still, I was skeptical. Then I listened to Quelqu’un m’a dit, and her husky, sensual voice surprised me. The album was an unexpected hit in Europe.
Bruni was born in Italy and her family moved to France when she was under 10. I think of her as having a quintessential French sound, Parisian in particular: velvety and intimate.
Femme Fatale is not one of Carla Bruni’s albums. It is from Nico and The Velvet Underground. Nico was also a fashion model turned singer, and Bruni sings Femme Fatale in this concert at the Theatre Trianon and it’s perfect. Really.
Watch her full concert in Paris at Theatre Trianon here. Femme Fatale, a highlight, starts at 8:35.
Hope your week is splendid CRUSHes.
XO,
Dish
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The Crush Letter
The Crush Letter is a weekly newsletter from Dish Stanley curating articles & intelligence on everything love & connection - friendship, romance, self-love, sex. If you’d like to take a look at some of our best stories go to Read Us. Want the Dish?
