Well, Paris was certainly off to a promising start. The evening before was exciting enough (not including details I would rather not mention in writing), it was only raining mildly on the morning of our second day (an optimistic outlook as apparently Paris rains more than London), and I was barely feeling hungover nor ill despite only three hours of sleep. The same could not be same of India, who throughout the day slumped into our cars' seats while I dragged her across Champs-Élysées and the 1st. Halfway through the day we swapped energies, I was practically face down in my dinner while she skipped off to the bar to drink from flaming pineapples.
Digressing.
So I felt fine on Day 2---le shopping day!---but not strong enough to brave public transport. Throughout the trip India and I took turns with our Uber accounts, which is especially handy when you're lugging bags and bags of shopping.
India's loving Paris because almost she's allowed to smoke in almost every Uber we ride in. And the Parisians continue to defy the smoking ban, one cab ride at a time. What? You can't tell a Parisian to stop smoking. It's like telling a Londoner who's had his foot stepped on to not mutter 'Sorry' to the person that stepped on them.
We meet James (aka HK aka The Freshmaker) near his work for brunch...
...and he accompanied us briefly to the first leg of our shopping trip.
I dragged them to Louis Vuitton on Avenue des Champs-Élysées.
The temple of excess, nouveau riche PRCs (mainland Chinese), glossy bags both monogrammed and discreet, and gilded dinosaur bones.
I left with the Sofia Coppola in red but not before making James and India wait a whole hour for me. Half of which was after I paid for my new handbag and waited ages for the man serving me (American, very lovely, had bright blue eyes) to find it. I didn't mind but I felt bad for India who was slumped, tired and hungover, over a glass counter while James tried to cheer her up my browsing through a Louis Vuitton book and feeding her fashion trivia and facts. "Look! This photographer...that era...those shoes are disgusting...oooh that bag is cool...Look!" It didn't help that it was ridiculously warm in the store (I nearly fainted from overheating) but pouring heavily outside.
Seven hundred and twenty five fun fashion facts later courtesy of HK (I keep mixing up his names and nicknames) he had to go back to work and leave us the dangerous streets of the 1st arrondissement.
By then my photo taking was next to non-existent, by then I was practically dying of overheating (my large fluffy jumper was too much even for a rainy Parisian day and no match for the heat of the shops), weighed down by my Louis Vuitton carrier bag, and my other hand was busy keeping my brolly above my head to protect me from the rain.
We hit up Colette where I bought a new candle from my favourite brand Byredo Parfums---Carrousel, smells of cotton candy---and ten bags of Orangina flavour Haribos. India bought the limited edition Leica D-Lux 6 in gold. Leica twinsies!
I laughed at India for shopping at Kooples and Jo Malone in Paris when we were headed back to London in two days. And then we headed back to the flat to drop of our shopping, change, and head out...for more shopping.
Waiting for India at Zadig & Voltaire...
...before dragging her to Marriage Freres for some tea leaves and then to L'Eclair de Genie for the most beautiful and quirky eclairs.
I bought and thoroughly recommend the orange pistachio, caramel, popcorn, and chocolate. I also strongly advice placing them at the Eurostar x-ray machines most carefully, I balanced mine on top of my Louis Vuitton shopping bag only to be knocked over by the leather flaps at the 'mouth' of the machine. As the box of delicate eclairs (and a box of Angelina pastries) tipped over I saw the whole scene played out in slow motion like a movie as was the anguished, guttural NOOOOOOOO as I ran dramatically (also in slow motion) toward it. *sad*
India and I headed back to the apartment to admire our combined shopping damage.
Monogrammed Maison Du Chocolate chocolates, a little gift from Louis Vuitton to apologise for making me wait. I was gifted two boxes, I gave one to India to try and make up for her suffering.
And my new bebe, Sofia Coppola...! She matches my favourite lipstick (Russian Red, MAC) so perfectly. I want to change my Facebook status to 'In A Relationship' with Sofia Coppola.
Having sufficiently admired and tinkered with our new purchases, India and I headed out to meet the boys for dinner at Derrière.
What transpired was an enchanting evening that reminded me of The Box in it's heyday, Phileas Fogg's house in Mayfair, and wading through rooms of antiques in my late grandfather's Bukit Timah mansion in Singapore.
Our car (Uber again, mais bien sur) pulled up to a giant, unmarked iron door in the 3rd where a smartly dressed lady nodded at us, smiled and led us through a cobblestoned path...
...and past an arch that opened up to a leafy courtyard decked in mismatching furniture...
...swings and loveseats alike, of course occupied by chain-smokers (I suspect mostly French).
To the left of the courtyard and main restaurant was a cottage of sorts, a private dining room for hire. And the red staircase beside it? It led to a bedroom...the type where you'd be served anything on a silver platter, I imagine...ooh la la.
We pushed through another set of towering doors to the restaurant itself...
...which was a wonderfully eclectic mish-mash of upcycled things (a fridge and a motorcycle in a corner, to start with), odd chairs andsofas cramped around low, round, tables, ping pong, art and pictures of different sizes all fighting for space on the same picture ledge...everywhere one looked there was an interesting detail to be had, and certainly a feast for the eyes that preceded the feast for our stomachs...
...supplied by the wonderful open kitchen delightfully named 'Junkie Wasp'.
While the courtyard and restaurant had a Spanish feel to it, the bathroom upstairs was decidedly French.
The bar outside, the wackily named Andy Wahloo, was quirky enough...
...but was no contended for the smoking room upstairs at Derrière, also known as Narnia. Just like Callooh Callay in Shoreditch, London, the door to the room was on the other side of the wardrobe.
Sleep deprivation crept up on me mid-afternoon, by dinnertime the exhaustion was truly showing on my face and I needed a mojito to get me through dinner without falling asleep facedown into my pudding.
Another burrata for India...and counting...
My lamb was beautifully cooked, perfectly pink, tender but not bloody, and bursting with flavour from the garlic and jus.
We ordered four types of pudding to share...
Giant macaron.
Apricots in white chocolate sauce, I think.
Chocolate fondant with raspberries. *knees tremble*
I ordered Floating Islands, this came. Bearing little resemblance to my idea of what floating islands look like. I banged my fist on the table and shouted "This doesn't look like what I saw on Great British Bake Off!" Ate it anyway, it was amazing.
Derrière was one of those wonderful places which was visually interesting AND where the food was great. Which you would think is a basic requirement for any restaurant but sadly it seems many failed to get that memo! London needs more places like Derrière.
Bisous bisous.
By the end of dinner I was an emotional and physical wreck from a hard day's shopping on next to no sleep so I bade farewell and headed back to the apartment to sleep...only to end up staying up late with Romain and his friend Bijoux (what an adorable nickname!) until India came home. And then I couldn't sleep till six in the morning, which made for a fantastic day after...but no matter, I outdid myself on Day 3 in Paris.
Until then, here's my favourite photo from Day 2. All the boys from dinner and their ponytails, ranked from smallest ponytail to largest.
Started from the bottom now my whole team here.
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