One of my first apartments was a converted coach house. All exposed brick, fireplace, loft bedroom. Oh man, I loved that place. I also fell victim to marathon episodes of Trading Spaces, and somewhere in there I got a hard on for decorating. Shabby Chic was my first love, and the flea markets of Paris were my Mecca. This last week I finally made my pilgrimage. Consider me reborn.
Les Puces is as old as the hills. On the outskirts of Paris, it's where vagabonds came to set up tables filled with a nights worth of dumpster diving goods. After you make it through the maddening crowd of people shoving knock off Gucci in your face and "magicians" playing slight of hand games, you're rewarded with a meandering maze of bric-a-brac and everything vintage and lovely. It's hella expensive, but just taking it all in is worth the trip.
The vintage fabrics were the best buy. Easily transportable and reasonably priced, they were a treasure just to look through. Très jolie.
Paris was everything I could have hoped for and more. Rambling walks, wine hour #1, wine hour #2, more walking, it was perfect. There is just a glow to the city that I've never seen before. It's opalescent. More posts to come on the most beautiful of cities.
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