Lights are on at Deyrolle

I stopped by Deyrolle today. Phoenix-like, it has risen from the ashes. Yay! They've opened again, on a temporarily smaller scale, after suffering a terrible fire in early February. As you can see from the photograph, the lights are on in less than half of the former space; the more damaged area on the left, the locus of the fire, will have to undergo more extensive renovation. The current space was repainted, floors sanded, and it seems just like the old, beloved Deyrolle.

Many of the lions and pigs and birds were there; some of the larger beasts are still in taxidermy hospital. Virtually the entire butterfly collection was wiped out in the fire -- a terrible loss.

I finally got a close-up view of "Plumes," the scarf created by Hermès to help finance the reconstruction of Deyrolle. The scarf, 265€, will be available in September; and for now can be ordered only in France, apparently. Here is ordering information for those who love Hermès and Deyrolle -- two classic Paris institutions. A third venerable Paris institution, Editions Gallimard, has lent a hand, and published a book on the future of Deyrolle for 15€, if that is more in your budget.

Vanity Fair [hearts] Paris

This month's Vanity Fair offers not only a great feature story on Premiere Dame Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, but also an in-depth article by Olga of Greece on one of my favorite Paris institutions, Deyrolle.

Hey, I think they like us!

I've written frequently about Deyrolle, which you can read here. The VF article explains the history of Deyrolle, its acquisition by the Prince de Broglie, the devastating fire last February, and the poignant subsequent offers of help from well-wishers around the globe, most notably Hermes, who designed a scarf to raise money for the reconstruction of the partially charred building. It's fascinating reading.

Gee, VF could have solicited me for photos of the burned wreckage and the sooty taxidermied animals: I witnessed it all in February. Oh well.

I haven't been able to find Vanity Fair at any Paris newsstands, but fortunately a friend scanned the Deyrolle article for me. Copyright laws being what they are, I can't include the whole article here. But if you haven't bought this month's issue for the sake of the Carla piece, please buy it for the excellent article on Deyrolle.

Update on Deyrolle

I stopped by Deyrolle this morning to see the extent of the damage from yesterday's fire. There was considerable damage to floors and wooden furnishings. Here are the charred remains thrown into the courtyard in back.

The large animals were poking their heads out the windows, almost as if calling for help.

Workers were clearing all the animals out, first moving the smaller ones into a truck.

These beasts seemed to want to head across the zebra crossing. First an employee was blowing ashes and soot from their fur with a hair dryer. Crowds stopped by to ask about the fate of the animals and to express their sympathy.

But here's the good news.

Deyrolle says they'll be back in business again very soon.

Terrible News at Deyrolle

I was heading down rue du Bac for dinner tonight and, to my horror, I saw pompiers cordonning off the area in front of Deyrolle, my all-time favorite shop in Paris. The windows were wide open and lintels of the windows showed stains of smoke.

According to the staff at the restaurant Atelier de Joel Robuchon, there was fire at Deyrolle this morning. No official word yet on the extent of the damage, but I shudder to think of the damage to the irreplaceable taxidermy inside.

Midnight in Paris

I settled into my cinema seat and waited impatiently through the coming attractions for the feature film to begin. Ready for my Paris fix by watching the much-discussed Midnight in Paris. The film began, with the brassy, jazzy trumpet music playing over the familiar sights of my favorite city.

But… something was wrong.

The colors.

Everything seemed too yellow. “Woody Allen got it all wrong, “ I was thinking. I am way too possessive about my Paris knowledge. “Is he trying to make it look like Kodachrome or something?” I was fuming just a little. “The light in Paris is silvery, not gold. The buildings are soft grey, and he is trying to make the buildings look as if they are all made of sandstone.” Even the gold leaf on the fountain at the place de la Concorde was too shiny, and the verdigris was too green. The wet nighttime streets should be reflections of pewter and chrome, not glimmers of gold. It wasn’t MY Paris, in any case, I harrumphed inwardly. What was he thinking??

Nevertheless, thrilled with seeing familiar spots, I somehow managed to refrain from elbowing Miss Bee at recognition of every panorama, every street scene in the introduction. I just reveled in knowing virtually every locale. Miss Smuggy-pants. When Owen Wilson first walked into Le Bristol, I couldn’t resist and leaned over and whispered “That’s Le Bristol.”

It’s occasionally truly obnoxious to be in the role of “I used to live in Paris.” This was no exception. I tried hard to suppress my oh-so-superior knowledge of the settings. Especially since Woody had gone so overboard on the gold. His shots of the admittedly posh Le Bristol seemed over-the-top in the gilt and gold-plate department. I didn’t get it.

But soon enough I was ensconced in the plot, and the cinematographic details took a back seat.

I did, however, almost jump out of my seat and hissed loudly to Bee, “That’s DEYROLLE!” In the scene with the champagne-soaked party surrounded by taxidermied animals. “Drole?” she whispered back. “D-E-Y-R-O-L-L-E! Deyrolle, my favorite taxidermy store!” I was beside myself.

I hate people who talk in movies.

As the movie progressed all I could do was admire Woody Allen's brilliance. This film was a magical modern-day fantastic tale interwoven with "The Kugelmass Episode," Back to the Future, and Grimm's "The Twelve Dancing Princesses."

Then, at one point, Owen Wilson's and Marion Cotillard's characters were in deep conversation about what it means to live in a golden era. One's nostalgia for a more golden era is sometimes missing the point that the golden era is actually the present.

"Ah," I sank back in my seat.

The golden-yellow light of Paris was brilliant, Mr. Allen.

Etes-vous une vraie Serial Shoppeuse?

Some things make me chuckle in France and some things make me laugh so much that I snort (only in the privacy of my appartement, bien sur).

This honest-to-God tag line from a junk mail advertisement from 3 suisses (kind of like Sears/Target) hit my funny bone.

Maybe a bit close to home, too? Although I have learned to keep my belongings to a minimum, because French lodgings just don't have much storage space, I am starting to master the art of shopping a la francaise.

Armed with my bible, "Paris Pas Cher" and combined with great advice and help from other local friends -- Mirenchu, Kathryn, Isabelle, Mary, Gisele and others -- I have managed to sniff out some of the better bargains available in France. From fabrics in Montmartre (http://www.marche-saint-pierre.fr/) to la marche aux puces at Porte de Vanves to France's equivalent of the "Dollar Stores" , I have been making the rounds and have set up la vie a la Parisienne.

And when my tres glamorous friend Nina was visiting from New York in May we found Anna Lowe on rue du Faubourg St. Honore, which has real couture pieces that you can actually afford. So what if it's last season when you're an American fashion simpleton?

I've visited brocantes in the Yvelines and the Gers, the marche in Dinard and in Marciac, always comparison shopping.

When I needed to go to an important gala or have the right business clothes, I went to a great store called La Piscine. Yes, it is located in a former indoor swimming pool. Well, the pool is still there -- but the water is gone. They've added palm trees, so verrry French to make the most of what is. Great designer clothes at cheap cheap prices.

I don't really like to go to the big department stores, though it is tempting when it's raining.

My other favorite store in Paris is Deyrolle, not for clothes but for decor items. www.deyrolle.fr

If you're a PETA fanatic you won't like this store, but it is my idea of heaven. I got the most wonderful seashell there -- about the size of a soccer ball, a luminous and salmon colored cocnh shell. For anyone who thinks that a puppy is the only way to meet new people, let me tell you this: walk down the streets of Paris with a gorgeous huge seashell in your hand (too fragile to have it swinging from some plastic bag, of course) and you'll start conversations with all the kinds of people you'd really like to meet!

But I digress.

Shopping at BHV is another favorite. www.bhv.fr I have also discovered that my little neighborhood droguerie/quincaillerie (hardware store) has just about everything I need at BHV prices or less, plus good advice.

Next to my apartment building is "Le Depot Vente Rive Gauche", a great consignment store with everything from blue jeans to Hermes pocketbooks at rock-bottom prices. It is great to have the space restriction because it has forced me to become much more judicious and selective. I buy only what I really need (a suit for one business meeting, casual pants for another meeting) and then allow myself an occasional "coup de coeur" for the rest.

Now, where to put all that inappropriate apparel that I brought from the US? Actually some places in the US are great if you have an eye for French fashion and then go for a trip to the states -- especially Target and TJ Maxx.

My friend Michel disdained my shopping exploits when some American friends were in town. "Ah oui, les Americaines aiment ca, " he sniffed. Well, maybe les Americaines do like to shop, but evidently we're not alone if 3 Suisses coins the serial shoppeuse phrase.

24 Hours in Paris

So many times when my circadian cycle was off-kilter with the "regular" hourly schedule of my fellow Parisians, I longed for an hour-by-hour guide that might tell me where I could be amused or consume lovely French fare while the rest of Paris slept or ate breakfast or was busy with their charming cinq-a-septs.  To no avail.  "Ah, there's a book waiting to be written," I thought.

Well, wait no more:  24 hours in Paris is here!

I could wax poetic about Marsha Moore's quirky and lovable new round-the-clock guide to La ville lumiere.  But instead, I'll simply offer you 24 reasons why I love 24 Hours in Paris:

24. A turkish bath where you can order dinner

23. La Chapelle Expiatoire

22. Unmentionable!

21. She loves Deyrolle as much as I do.

20. Metro line 14

19. Chapelle de la Medaille Miraculeuse
18. O Chateau -- we love Olivier!
17. The Dog Cemetery
16. Merci

15. Fabulous factoids. "It would take 24 days, using every hour in the day, to briefly view all the exhibits in the Louvre."

14. Drouot

13. Drouot again.

12. Drouot again.

11. A bar that is open from 9h to 7h.  That is not a typo.

10. Midnight movies followed by breakfast.

9. Going to see "Auntie."

8. Berthillon (I drool!)

7. "24 hours with the kids."

6. Cimetiere de Montparnasse

5. Polly Maggoo.  Because there's more than one Polly in Paris.

4. Eternal favorite Shakespeare & Company

3. La tour Montparnasse

2. Stripper School.  Non, pas wallpaper: oui, va-va-va-voom!

And -- drumroll please:  numero un is

1.  Cafe de la Mairie (a fave):  Marsha spells it correctly.  Not Cafe de la "Marie," people!

Great book, a must-have for anyone who loves and frequents Paris.