In which a Jewish family from Brooklyn moves to Paris, France for two years of work, school, and adventures.
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Blame it on the sales.
Who has time to blog--or buy food, cook, go to museums, write a novel, whatever--when almost everything in almost every store in Paris is on sale? Up to 50% off!
I don’t know about you, but my mother didn’t raise me to pass that up.
My mother, in fact, has been with me throughout the period known in France as "Les Soldes," which began on January 12 and will officially end on February 12. She died almost 14 years ago, but wherever clothing is reduced for clearance, my mother is there. She taught me to shop, and the skills I learned from her have stood me in good stead this month.
I skipped the first day of the sales, for two reasons. First of all, it is completely insane. The sidewalks of rue de Passy, the shopping street that is our main drag, are impassable. You can’t get in the doors of most of the boutiques, from Kenzo to Espirit to The Gap. The grands magasins (big department stores) like Printemps and Galeries Lafayette are wall-to-wall shoppers. My mother would have braved it, but I am not quite in her league.
Also, I had offered to host a coffee for parents at E.’s school, Eurecole, and it was inadvertently scheduled for that Wednesday morning. A couple of days before the coffee, a friend called to give me a heads up about the conflict and suggest that I change the date. This was impossible, as slips of lime-green paper inviting parents to the coffee had been distributed in December, with no RSVP necessary. The coffee would go on, even if only a few sales-shy moms showed up. “You’re coming, though,” I said to my friend encouragingly. But no, she too was planning to hit the sales.
She did ultimately come to the coffee; she really had no choice, as I made it a matter of loyalty with my friends. In fact, more than 20 moms in all (plus one dad, the charming and brave Juan) showed up, bearing croissants, chouquettes, and galettes de roi. Some left early to get in a little shopping before school pickup; some came late after making a quick stop at a favorite store.
My own shopping began that Friday, and I haven’t stopped since. I’ve acquired two coats, a stack of sweaters, a couple of pairs of pants, a pair of boots, and some luggage. My favorite item is an Agnes B. skirt that I tried on months ago and rejected as too expensive. During the sales it was marked down 40%; two were left, and one was my size.
There are three distinct pleasures to be had at the sales. First, you can fill in the holes in your family’s wardrobes at good prices. By mid-January, it’s clear who needs new jeans, new t-shirts, a new coat. (It was very cold last week and my two older sons, who have been wearing sweatshirts all winter, admitted they needed coats. What great timing!)
Then, there’s the joy of buying a couple of special things, like that Agnes B. skirt, that will cause everyone back home to exclaim, “That’s so French!” And finally, during the sales, I feel comfortable marching right into all those chic boutiques that I usually feel too unchic to enter. Anything goes during les soldes.
The sales are almost over—especially for me, since I’m going to NY soon and I’ll miss the final week. I may make a few more purchases, but even if I don’t buy another thing, I feel satisfied. I’ve shopped well, and my mother would be proud.
