Paris in 24 hours

I had this mad idea of going to Paris for 24 hours. Just to attend the Hermes sale. I know. I know. Pretty crazy. You'll have to forgive this Kiwi girl because I still find the idea of being able to get to Paris within 2.5 hours by train pretty incredible. I still get a little giddy whenever I look up all the flight routes on EasyJet. Wow! I can be in Nice in 1.5 hours!! Or Rome in 2! What about Prague! So cheap! You get the idea.

Irene, a good buddy of mine decided to join in the fun at the last minute so off we went, each carrying a canvas shoulder tote sans luggage. This was her very first trip to Paris and I was to be her tour guide. I'll have you know that I'm practically a Parisian having been to the Romantic City numerous times and thoroughly butchered the language to bits on every occasion. That's the beauty of being an Asian trying to speak French. You're forgiven before you even utter a word. I get "Pardon madame, do YOU speak English?" a lot. "Pourquoi?", I ask.  " Mais je parle français". And I get a very diplomatic answer "That's ok, madame. I speak English". Le sigh.

By the time we arrived at Gard du Nord, I was getting a little weak in the knees from hunger. At the risk of me turning into a snarling Hades, I dragged her off to get our carte orange from the ticket machine and off we went in search of my favorite Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown for a bowl of pho.





It was nearly 11pm by the time we arrived at our hotel to check in. I looked askance at the young man behind the counter and wondered the reason behind the strange grin on his face. He had this nudge nuuuudge wink wink thing going on. Waaaaaiiit a minute. It turned out we were upgraded to an executive suite with a large bed. The honeymoon suite. He was probably thinking that these two ladies were here for some hanky panky.With each other. When he came back later with an extra towel, he was still trying to peer past my shoulder to see evidence of our naughty tryst. tsk tsk.

The next morning..... actually, 3.5 hours later, we were up to get ready for the mad Hermes sale at Palais de Congres. I've arranged to meet a friend there who had flown in from Japan the night before. I was barely coherent from the lack of sleep but we stumbled upon one of the most enthusiastic ladies in the queue. She'd flown in from Hong Kong with her indulgent hubby in tow. She could barely contain her excitement while the rest of us looked bored, jaded and cynical. It was also the most organized Hermes sale I've been to and conversely, the one with the worst selection ever. In fact, Irene and I were the first to leave. A word of advice to those who'd like to attend future Hermes sales, please ensure that you check EVERY single item before leaving as many have flaws.

We raced over to see the Eiffel Tower and bought a few tacky souvenirs. Next stop: Isabel Marant store at rue de Saintonge. What better way to indoctrinate Irene into the very best of French fashion than to introduce her to Hermes and Isabel Marant. While I was trying on a Kady leather jacket, she was busy ogling two gorgeous ladies carrying large Hermes Kelly bags on their arms. I think I may have made a new Hermes convert here.


We decided to forage for some lunch in the area before heading back to the train station. It was downright depressing trying to eat while surreptitiously watching 6 feet tall gangly and very young models strutting past us in 5 inch heels. Yes, it was the Paris Couture Week and there were a lot of beautiful people around. Au revoir, Paris! We'll be back again.