View from Jackie's studio in Paris. More about this canyon of French windows you are viewing, in today's missive. And félicitations! to our 17-year-old daughter, who has completed her 4th internship in fashion design.
enfermé dehors
: locked out
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Un jour, en descendant la poubelle, il s'était enfermé dehors en pyjama. (H.-F. Blanc, Combat de fauves au crépuscule)
English Translation:
One day, while taking out the trash, he locked himself out in his pajamas.
A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristin Espinasse
On fait nos valises
Ten days ago I woke up in a 14 square meter apartment in Paris. Looking out the fenêtre, my eyes scanned gray rooftops and followed the trails of chimney pots which seemed to march towards the horizon. That's when I realized I'd missed the chance to photograph the Sacré-Coeur last night when the sky was dark enough to glimpse a tiny trio of white globes in the left corner of the window! There would not be another chance to do so, not this trip anyway. It was time, now, to pack and leave my daughter's studio.
Lying there in bed, all those internal cobs began to turn as my mind and body quickly became a steamroller of intention: put away the dishes, check under the bed for socks and chouchous, and put out both sets of keys–to leave behind for the owner (this last item caused no end of worry, and you will soon understand why….)
The list was getting louder and louder in my mind, so loud I might wake my daughter with my thoughts. Slipping out of bed, I quietly made a cup of coffee – and sat down in front of the window, to savor, one last time, the view just beyond.
There, in the canyon of Parisian windows that formed an intimate neighborhood in the 11th arrondissement, I said my goodbyes.
Au revoir to the laundress in the attic apartment–who was always drying her clothes on her window railing. How I feared her comforter would drop… landing on the smoker at the 3rd floor window below….
Adieu, to the botanical goddess, on the 5th floor, whose little window was a perfect green jungle.
Farewell to the brocanteur, on the 4th floor, whose empty wingchair soaked in the sun, there before the window with its flowing rideaux.
Did they see me, too? And think Goodbye to the photographer on the 6th, who held her smartphone this way and that as she focused its camera lens on a single spool of thread on her window sill. Oh, but a symbolic spool at that! Did they know my roommate? "The Karate Couturist"– my daughter–who, like the karate kid, was made to repeat the same handiwork gesture over and over and over, but who would soon realize the wisdom behind such training. Jackie's seamstressing internship had now come to an end, and with it, the vacation I'd enjoyed while accompanying my daughter.
Having said so many silent farewells, it was time to dress up, tidy up, and line up our bags. My arms swept over the shelves–making certain not one item was forgotten. This last point was crucial, for, once we shut the door–leaving our keys inside as instructed–we would not be able to return inside the rental apartment!)
Finally, there we were, my daughter and I, standing in the hallway looking into the memorable shoebox apartment. And then, the anxiously awaited moment, when the door slipped out of my hand and locked forever. I looked over at my daughter and smiled confidently–before my face dropped in horror.
"Oh no! My cell phone!"
"Mom!" Jackie gasped.
"Just kidding," I snorted. Only, as we walked down the hall my legs suddenly froze. "My hat… I left my hat!!! I can't believe it! I had so carefully planned our perfect departure…. checked every corner… turned over the bedspread…said a needed prayer!"
As I stood there lamenting, I could see in my mind's eye my hat, high up on the shelf, where I carefully arranged it each time I returned to the apartment. And I could now see the locked door, separating us!
Jackie tried her best, using reasoning to comfort me. C'est pas grave, Maman. C'est pas grave! But I was inconsolable. I had left behind the hat that my Mom had offered me. There was no replacing the midnight blue hat with the twinkle stars. The magic hat that had recently sparked a lovely conversation with a stranger in Paris….
Walking to the elevator, hatless, my head felt as bare as those far-off globes of the Sacré-Coeur…. Only, unlike the church, inside me there was no more hope. That hat was gone forever because I did not and would not have the courage to bother the apartment owner to send it to me in a hat box via post! My only comforting thought was to call the maid and tell her to keep my hat for herself. It would look lovely on her, and match her kind spirit.
Jackie, sensing my despair, looked up. Her eyes were now twinkling like the those stars on my lost hat. "Mom," she said. "I will buy you a new one–here in Paris!"
And that is how the sentimental hat my Mom had gifted me found its only possible replacement: in the sentimental gesture of my daughter.
(New hat picture coming soon at the end of this post….)
To see a picture of my blue hat… click here, and scroll to end of the previous story.
FRENCH VOCABULARY
on fait nos valises = we pack our bags
la fenêtre = window
chouchou = ponytail holder, scrunchie
le rideau = curtain
c'est pas grave = it isn't important
Provence Dreamin'? Maison des Pelerins, Sablet. A Vacation Rental Dream in the heart of the Côte du Rhone. Click here for pictures.
Picture, of the hat my daughter bought me, taken at a recent wine-tasting. Next wine tasting is here at home, this Thursday July 2nd. Email me if you can make it! kristin.espinasse@gmail.com (photo by Dede Nagamoto Willis)
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Nothing quite as lovely as generations of generosity…
Merci beaucoup pour cette belle histoire…
My félicitations ,also, for Jackie! What an interesting and enjoyable stay the two of you had in Paris. As for the special hat left behind, you are truly a lady “of many hats” and it will be a lucky hat indeed which next graces your head. Thank you for all the experiences which you share with your readers … they help me to see events in a different light. Best wishes for all.
Kristi, I loved your story and your photo of the rooftops is beautiful. I, too, have rented apartments in Paris where you have to leave the key inside when you leave, and it is scary. Congrats to Jackie on her successful internship!
I loved the blue hat!!!
J’adore vous lire et j’espère avoir un jour, l’occasion de vous rencontrer. Mon mari est français, comme le vôtre et nous, aussi, avons des enfants franco-américains…mais nous vivons aux É-U. Je vais rater votre “wine tasting” de deux jours. Serez-vous à Paris par hasard avant le 13 juillet ?
En tout cas, vous m’apportez un grand plaisir avect tes “pensées partagées!” Et quelque soit le chapeau, vous êtes belle!
Debbie
Debbie said it perfectly above…I would just like to add a big Félicitations to Jackie…not only for completing her 4th stage…but also for saying just the right thing at the right time.
I’m sorry you lost your hat, Kristi, but my heart is smiling because of your daughter’s generous gesture. Your children are such a blessing in your life! Thank you for this beautiful story.
Kristin:
Sometimes things get the better of us. But if we stand back and take a deep breath, we can go on. I’m sure Jackie found you a fetching Parisian chapeau to replace the one you left behind!
Edie from savannah
Debbie and friends, Thank you for these positive words. And, a Debbie, sorry not be back in Paris in July. Have a lovely time!
When I misplace something I try to think about the person who will find it and how delighted they will be. But I really hate losing a hat. Look forward to seeing new one. Thanks for sharing.
Nancy, I love your positive thinking. I will try that each time I *misplace* something. 🙂
The blue hat was lovely on you, but I think it had a bit of Jules magic in it, and must be shared! 🙂
Ah, such a sweet daughter Jackie is! Your new gifted hat is also lovely!
Congratulations Jackie for completing your 4th stage of Internship.
Oh my I am so sorry about the special hat but knowing that it was from your mother I am sure all the good Karma it holds will enlighten another life. Your mother is full of fun and excitement and her hat will live on and on … perhaps it was the hat that decided to move on as you are doing now…
Oh, those hats! I too have unintentionally shared some choice specimens with strangers. I sometimes say my life is a never-ending search for the perfect hat. Although perfection is hard to come by, I might grow attached to a particular one that I manage to hang on to for several years. But then one day, it happens: the hat is gone, put down in a store somewhere, left behind in a hotel room, perhaps dropped on a street, unnoticed. I still think of a couple of those hats; I hope they had a happy life with a new owner rather than being tossed into la poubelle.
Oh, those hats! I too have unintentionally shared some choice specimens with strangers. I sometimes say my life is a never-ending search for the perfect hat. Although perfection is hard to come by, I might grow attached to a particular one that I manage to hang on to for several years. But then one day, it happens: the hat is gone, put down in a store somewhere, left behind in a hotel room, perhaps dropped on a street, unnoticed. I still think of a couple of those hats; I hope they had a happy life with a new owner rather than being tossed into la poubelle.
Our dear Kristi,
What a lovely story today(!)and even lovelier,the beautiful gesture you made in leaving your blue hat for the happiness of a stranger and just as wonderful(!) your darling daughter gifting you with another!
You two are blessed to have each other,and so are we for sharing in your lives.
THANK YOU!
Love
Natalia. xo
I’m sorry about the lost hat, but the benefit is that you’ve had the pleasure of owning two hats gifted to you by such special people. But if you forget Jackie’s hat somewhere, I’m sure apartment owners are very used to mailing lost objects if you send the required amount.
Wonderful to read of your sweet daughter’s attitude and gesture of buying you a new hat. It looks great on you and I know the person who finds the blue hat will be so thrilled to have it. Pass it on! That’s a great way to connect with others. Hooray for Jackie and her great accomplishment!
Hi Kristin! Love your new hat but maybe your other hat will find its way to you in the mail! Congrats to Jackie!
I loved the blue hat, your daughter’s offer to buy you a new hat, and the story of the older lady that commented on your hat. How wonderful to feel life’s beauty through your experiences. I
Congratulations, Kristen! You are thinking in French, where one uses “offrir” to indicate that someone gave you a gift. But in English, /offer/ means that someone asks if you would like something: you can accept or not.
Your mother gave you that wonderful sparkly hat — and your daughter will give you another, quite as wonderful, I am sure.
From your compulsive copy editor, with respect & admiration,
The blue hat was charming on you, Kristi. Perhaps the landlady will think of sending it on to you. If not, it could bring someone else sheer joy. This reminds me of the coat I donated to a thrift shop. Only a few days later I saw it again being worn by an older lady who was a clerk in a gas station shop. When I complimented her on it, she beamed and said she had purchased it at the thrift store for just a few dollars and she was so happy to have it. Many years later i still smile at that memory. So, if your hat head ends up on someone else’s head, that person may draw attention and experience a memorable brief encounter as you did.
The hat from Jackie is fabulous… you wear hats well!
Congratulations on the photograph featured at the top of your story! It’s beautiful, and so painterly and evocative. The overcast sky over the Parisian rooftops, the quiet solitude of the spool on the window ledge – wow, what fairy tales and romances they conjure up! I will print a copy to hang up by my computer, to look at when I’m tired of working.
I am moved by how your beauty continues to blossom, as Jules before you and how closely Jackie follows at your heels. The threads of life…
I love your vision of the “canyon” of French windows.
Dear Kristin,
Your topic got me reminiscing (again)! We used to say “exfermé” though it is not an official verb!
“Enfermé dehors” seems soooo… I dunno… not ‘as good’!
A purely personal preference on my part.
Love the old and new hats! Love the blue of your dress, and composition of that photo including the cumquats and bougainvillea!
Jacq
just back
from Ouarzazate!)
And other places, but I just liked the sound that made. 🙂
Like you, I accompanied my daughter while she studied – but that was for a whole year. We lived in a 1930s inner-city Melbourne bedsit (large for what it was, but still…), and it was the best thing we ever did – it completely changed our relationship.
Dear Kristin,
I know your kind spirit and one day a new blue hat will appear back in your life and on top of your pretty blond hair! No worries, the stars will find a way to bring you more hats. I think your precious mom is on it! xoxo
Hi Kristi,
I am so sorry about your special hat 🙁
I enjoyed all your stories and photo’s while you were in France with Jackie staying in the shoebox. I only wish we could have met up while I was in Creitel like we planned. My husband promised next time he will make it happen! Congrats to Jackie!!
Love this photo of you! Sweet story.