A Femme d'Un Certain Age

French Kissing. . .

2012-01-30T10:59:00.000+01:00

Kiss-kiss.

Non, non, non, pas ça mes amis. No indeed.

I'm talking about air-kissing, perhaps considered an affectation on the other side of the Atlantic -- or the Pacific for that matter, but in my life it's a normal form of greeting, and, honestly I love it.

I mention the custom today because if you click here you will be taken to a post I wrote for Women's Voices for Change where I explain why I love my French girlfriends. We always say "bonjour" and "au revoir" with light brushes of our cheeks, lips pressed into a relaxed kiss formation and usually a whisper in the ear about how happy we are to see each other.

Rarely do women really "plant" a kiss on a cheek -- heaven forbid, one could leave a lipstick trace -- but men who are good friends do actually gently kiss a woman's cheeks. This I really love.

There are many, many nuances on the ritual -- the number of times, two in Paris for example, more as one moves south in the country.

France's First Lady, Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, and Letizia of Spain setting up for their official air-kiss -- right check to right cheek. I'm confused. Are they leaning to the left?

I'm sure there is some protocol for left or right cheek first and I could Google to find out, but I simply scope out the direction someone is leaning in for the kiss they are about to give me and I follow their lead. An interesting article in the London Daily Mail some time ago noted that studies reveal the level of emotional feeling connected with social bises, is demonstrated by which way we tilt our heads.

Approximately 80 percent of men and women turn their heads to the right when kissing cheek-to-cheek, which is supposedly a gesture of genuine feeling while those leaning toward the left were reacting with the less emotional part of their brain and thus not making a warm gesture at all.

Next Week or La Semaine Prochaine

2012-01-29T13:57:00.000+01:00

First off, I don't know what has happened here to my type face. I'll look into it later.

The up-coming week, if all goes according to plan, will include a great reveal. Excited, deliriously happy, floating on a cloud would be the best way to describe the situation chez moi.

Here is your weekly line-up:

Lundi: I shall send you to another site where you will find me telling you "Why I Love My French Girlfriends."

Mardi: A foundation discussion in which I sincerely hope you will answer my questions.

Mercredi: News & Views.

Jeudi: Surprise.

Vendredi: The Great Reveal.

Samedi: A French Country Weekend.

Dimanche: Like today, but different.

Weather report: Cold, cold, lots of gorgeous sunshine, morning frost, bottom-line, crisp and invigorating.

A demain mes trés, trés, trés, chers amis.

A French Country Weekend

2012-01-28T14:43:00.000+01:00

One small fennel. . .

some cabbage. . .

Vegetable soup is simmering in the kitchen with homemade chicken stock as the base and the fresh vegetables from yesterday's market: carrots, baby navet (turnips), leeks, celery, one onion pierced with cloves, a small bulb of fennel, a handful or two of haricot verts, some cabbage and a bouquet garni. It should be good.

Next on the agenda, arrange the two bunches of coral tulips purchased yesterday.

And finally, I plan to head out to see if I can find some red anemones. Last week I had an all white bouquet, this week I would like one in red. If I can find that luscious purple-y blue, I'll snap them up.

I'll show you the bouquets next week.

Weather report: Cold -- really cold -- bright, cheery, morale-lifting sunshine, early morning frost. Lovely.

A demain mes trés, trés, trés chers ami for the weekly round up which will be exceptionally, particularly interesting.

A New French Survey

2012-01-27T14:20:00.001+01:00

It seems to me it's about time for a new survey. Setting aside for the moment creams and elixirs (which many respondents, as you will soon see, refused to do) I asked several friends and acquaintances the following question: What do you do to stay young?

This is what they told me:

Danielle: A stretching class, English lessons, crossword puzzles, bicycling wherever I can and lots of creams which comfort me, but probably don't produce any results.

The Vichy Thermal Spa.

Marie-Claire: I just cut my hair and added thick bangs. I think I look younger. Two weeks in the Vichy thermal spa, swimming.

Isabelle: I laugh all the time and I write plays, always comedies. They have been produced in tiny local theaters. The work and the anticipation keep me young.

Michel: It's important to always have projects, aims in life. We're restoring our house at the moment which is a huge project. Also one must never be egotistical, if you care about others and think about their well-being you stay young.

Annie: I take classes. I need to learn new things. It's an adventure for me.

Claudine: Yoga, tai chi, stretching classes and I always, always think positively. I am positive by nature and I always find a way to make my mind go toward solutions to problems and not get too focused on the drama. Also argan oil all over my body.

Dany: Picking mushrooms in the Rambouillet forrest, eating really good, fresh food and very little meat. I go to practically every new exhibition in Paris. I also cover my body with creams and lotions from head to foot even though I find it annoying.

Josianne: Swimming, golf, thinking positively as much as I can and a shelf-full of Nuxe treatment products.

Alain: Golf, bridge twice a week, scrabble, English classes, travel and looking at pretty women.

Maryanne: I do absolutely no sports, which I know I should, and I hate walking in the forrest so I try to compensate by sleeping nine hours and being active during the day. Since we have three houses it's not difficult to find things to do. And, of course I have more creams, lotions and serums than a parfumerie. Another thing, I put my makeup on first thing every morning. I have breakfast fresh-faced, but I don't feel 'dressed' without my makeup.

Françoise: My first (and only for the moment) grandchild, painting classes and travel.

Anne-Laetitia: A happy marriage plus a neck lift and hyaluronic acid injections. (Ed. Note: Ahem.)

And finally, several said faire l'amour as often as possible. Nothing keeps you young better than that, they said.

What do you do to stay young?

Night. . .

and day.

Remember, we don't care about chronological age, we're talking heart and mind -- plus some serious upkeep. If you prefer your hyaluronic acid treatment in a more friendly formulation, don't forget my magic Eucerin cream. It's as close as one can get to a miracle in a jar.

A Fashion Challenge

2012-01-26T14:18:00.001+01:00

Jean-Charles Castelbajac whom I ordinarily hate, but this snappy jacket is just what a late winter wardrobe needs. Imagine it with the Mulberry bag below. I know, isn't it fab-u-lous? (I'm taking the pants as well. . .)

Recently I was asked to choose five (!) and only five items of apparel and/or accessories that I would buy right this minute. In other words, something that would add zest to an existing wardrobe -- mine -- and if the stars were aligned, on markdown with my size still waiting for me.

All this is alas virtually speaking, but even so I must admit I had a very, very, very difficult time culling down to five. (When the post on my choices appears on Women's Voices For Change I will let you know.)

My dream bag, the Mulberry Alexa.

Still, the nagging feeling that I left some really good pieces in the dressing room has finally summoned me back to pick them up on the sly.

Ralph Lauren. Isn't this coat elegant?

Unfortunately with my current social calendar I didn't even choose from the myriad delicious evening gowns out there -- to do so would have been a waste of my virtual budget and I like to think of myself as practical, yet whimsical, ever elegant, yet practical. I want bang for my Euro even if we're playing in Fantasyland.

Celine. I'm assuming -- well it's my blog after all, I can assume anything I wish --that all three pieces count as one. That's how I'm counting them. It's called "new math."

Celine. Another one of those not easy to find, but perfect LBDs to add to the closet . If only. . . I could wear it with either of the coats and the jacket and, of course, the Mulberry bag would give it just the snap (!) it might need on occasion.

Here then are the clothes, and the one accessory, that got away.

In Another French Tradition

2012-01-25T13:23:00.002+01:00

Every Saturday when I do my major market shopping, i.e. fruit, vegetables, cheese. . ., as opposed to super market shopping for household cleaning products, water, milk and so forth, I always buy flowers. I put them in a bucket of water and take them to the cave (the cellar) to keep them fresh and on Saturday I make my bouquets. Not being a remarkable homemaker, this exercise is a delight for me. It is the compensation for all the necessary chores one is obliged to do. I could, and sometimes do, spend hours making bouquets for the bedroom, the living room, the dining room, the library, my office.

A magnificent Gallé solifleur vase.

Flowers are my great luxury and, as you know, a very, very French touch in the home. A single flower in a solifleur vase on a bed table is life changing. (OK, small exaggeration, but I find great joy in seeing a flower as the first and last things I see every day.) My point here: It's not necessary to spend a fortune on flowers, but the return on investment is enormous I find.

Simple, modern solifleur vases.

In the summer, of course, all of my flowers come from the garden and even now I have red berries I can add to the flowers or use alone.

This week I bought three bunches of white anemones. I love anemones. This is one of my -- extremely simple as you can see -- bouquets in a mercury glass vase.

A demain.

News, Views, Remerciements & A Winner

2012-01-24T14:16:00.001+01:00

The label says "Karl," the designer is the only-and-only and the collection is available exclusively through the Internet.

It's been a while since I've pulled together a collection of the latest and the greatest -- a discretionary call on that one -- or at the very least news and views.

Since the bits and pieces are all over the place, let's dispense with convoluted transition sentences and use my two favorite forms of communication: lists and headlines.

And we're off. . .

Macha Was Deeply Touched

She asked me to thank all of you profusely for your kind birthday wishes yesterday and to tell you she had a lovely, quite celebration at home with the family and enjoyed her hamburger, while suffering through way too much hands-on public displays of affection (she's discrete) all followed by a very good night's sleep.

A Brilliant Idea

Claire Vidal, who like many women, particularly Frenchwomen, has suffered for the sake of fashion decided enough already. As she watched other women (and herself) trotting along the streets of Paris in haute heels and grimaces she decided it was time to find a panacea for the pain. Et voila, her brilliant idea: super cushy innersoles to slip into stratospherically high heels -- or any uncomfortable shoes for that matter. She named her new company, Red Carpet.

But, she didn't stop at the utilitarian. No indeed. She saw no reason not to make the inside of one's shoes as trendy as the outside with a range of colors and even leopard motif semelles.

They ring in at 29 Euros. If you're intrigued, click here.

And The Winner Is. . .

The winner of the Detox tea from Kusmi Tea is Joni Nawrocki. Please e-mail me your mailing address and I shall pass it along to Kusmi. (tishjett@yahoo.com)

Congratulations!

Starting Tomorrow

Karl Lagerfeld's new line of ready-to-wear featuring his latest label, "Karl," will be available on
net-a-porter. The collection of some 100 pieces priced from 60 to 300 Euros will be offered only through the Internet.

Karl, as we all know, is an advangardist who has nothing against technology, tiny images of himself in Christmas windows, his svelt form replicated in a palette of eye shadows and his silhouette on Coke Lite bottles. He has arrived at that exalted position where he can do anything and it never tarnishes his reputation -- from the haute couture to the hoi polloi. No easy feat.

From what little I've seen of the collection (very little) I think I'll take the collar and call it a day. I hope it comes in white.

And, that's all she wrote -- for today.

A French Dog's Birthday

2012-01-23T13:29:00.000+01:00

Macha

Today, Macha is celebrating her 15th birthday!

She was the only girl in the litter and was promised to me by a good friend of ours long before she was born. Her mother was one of the sweetest dogs ever and I said to our friend, if Yanna ever has puppies do you think I could have a girl? The day Macha was born he called and said she was mine.

I'm going to call him today to thank him again. Macha has brought so much joy into my life. She's cool, tender, no-nonsense and extremely funny. While Charlotte requires lots of physical contact including hugs, Macha simply needs to know where I am at all times and will occasionally sit next to me and accept my fawning with bored tolerance. She knows I need it.

She will have a hamburger for dinner tonight, as will Charlotte. It will be a birthday party after all.

A demain mes cherest amis.

Next Week or La Semaine Prochaine

2012-01-22T13:53:00.000+01:00

The next few days will be -- I'm trying to figure out a way to say this so you will be intrigued -- full of surprises! Yes, that's it. Surprises!

Monday I will share something special with you. It involves one of our dogs.

Tuesday will be a News & Views day with the announcement of the winner of last week's Kusmi Tea giveaway.

And the rest of the week will be sooooo much fun what with the surprises and all. . .!

Weather report: Intermittent rain drops, a timid sun, light wind. Better than yesterday.

I hope you're having a wonderful, restful weekend.

A demain mes trés chers amis.

A Weekend In The Country

2012-01-21T14:22:00.001+01:00

The forsythia outside the library window has buds on it. You probably can't see them, but I've verified.

Not quite yet. Soon. I'm not psychologically prepared for the moment.

I'll put my wreath into its storage box in a week or two.

Weather report: Yucky. Drizzly rain, gray skies, wind.

Consequence: Dogs not at all interested in venturing out and when they do they must wait on the porch to be dried -- one after the other like the ladies they are. . .

A demain for the weekly round up mes trés, trés, trés chers amis.

I hope you're having a lovely weekend. (If you have snow, I'm jealous.)

Why Aren't The French Content?

2012-01-20T13:36:00.003+01:00

Why aren't the French as happy as I think they should be? Maybe it's because they see themselves as intellectuals, always questioning, always doubting and yet, they admit happiness could be a good thing.

Maybe it's because I'm the foreigner in this wonderful land that I don't understand the seemingly constant grumbling that I see and hear. At a dinner party a Frenchman told me a joke. He said: "When God created France he knew he had created perfection and could never do anything better. He then thought I mustn't have absolute perfection on earth, so he created the French."

It's a joke.

Now, before I pull you into this story I must make a disclaimer or two. A post such as this would require a great deal of data and scientific support if it were to be done with strict attention to detail. Heaven knows that statistics and whatnot are out there, but after several hours sifting through the material I gave up trying to synthesize the information for this post. Please consider the following as "science light" sort of like Coke lite. I'll give you a gloss over without the solid foundation. If you're dying to have the hard facts, click here and once there you'll discover a zillion other sites that will bolster or denigrate that study.

According to a recent French Elle article which unfortunately gave me the idea to pursue the idea, the French really do want to be happy, but they fall somewhere around 46th in the world for serenity. That said, not surprisingly the "Happiness Project" best seller by Gretchen Rubin, which has been translated into French, seems to be capturing the imagination of a country which has every reason in the world to be happy, but somehow isn't quite.

The article takes us month-by-month on what we're told should guarantee le bonheur. A cautionary note before one sets out on the quest: It takes 30 days for the brain to adopt a new habit, that's why the month- by-month approach seems to work best. Too much happiness could result in an overdose or maybe even stress (!)

If you've gotten this far with me, let me make it easier for you to continue by using one of every journalist's favorite methods, lists. We just love them. If you want to up your happiness quotient you can pick and choose from below and sort according to whatever month your little heart desires.

1.) A study shows the French sleep an average of six hours per night which can lead to extreme fatigue and depression. The solution? Two nights a week, lights out at 10:30.

2.) 20 to 30 minutes of exercise per day keeps the brain in top form. (You knew that.)

3.) According to author Florence Servan-Schreiber, eight physical contacts each day, i.e. hugs, kisses, a caress, makes us feel better, 12 contacts has the same effect as an opiate. Now that is interesting!

4.) Remember with our children, the days may be long, but the years are short. Do something fun every day. Create sweet memories.

5.) Do something creative. Anything. You don't have to be good at it, just do it.

6.) If you've stopped entertaining and spending time with friends. No matter how much effort it takes, throw a small dinner party. Make it simple, but make it.

7.) Be grateful for what you have -- I know, you've heard this before, but it bears repeating. When one is grateful, one is more tolerant of others. I find among my French friends a great deal of tolerance and charity toward others. They see and forgive human foibles.

8.) Question whether you really want more and more and more things.

9.) Make time for yourself; it's there. You'll figure out how to find it. You will be happier and your happiness will "rub off" on those around you.

10.) If you don't think you're happy and you have a litany of reasons to support that belief. . . well, then you're not happy. As one of my best friends said some time after her husband died, "I woke up one morning and I decided to be happy. It's a decision. I'm acting on it."

Now, you add to all of this excellent healthcare and transportation systems, cultural activities available at affordable prices and, of course the country's natural resources: cheese, wine, champagne, perfume, lingerie and all the rest and one -- a foreigner -- often wonders whether it's the spoiled child syndrome that is preventing true happiness.

Real French Pommes

2012-01-19T13:43:00.000+01:00

Silver pommes

Yes, they are real apples (pommes) dipped in a silvery wax that makes them gleam. Aren't they beautiful?

They're part of my new year's resolution to start a post holiday decorating tradition. As in I've decided to institute an unexpected post holiday decorating touch, starting this year. I bought my apples at yet another of the many divine boutiques in the town near us. When I first saw them I thought they were wax apples -- which they are and they aren't.

The owner of the boutique explained she found them at a small supplier and she too fell in love with them. I asked her how long they would survive. She said she had no idea, noting that real pommes shrivel up and ultimately rot away. Will that happen to these or will they be protected by the wax?

"I really don't know," she said.

"Could you find out maybe?" I asked.

"I'll try," she said.

I'll let you know.

Tomorrow I'll tell you about happiness from the French point of view. And, curiously, even with such natural resources as wine, champagne (yes, I know champagne is wine), cheese, perfume, sublime lingerie, and silver apples, they're not that happy.

A demain mes trés, trés, trés chers amis.

French Soldes & More New Shoes

2012-01-17T08:50:00.001+01:00

As I mentioned (admitted) last week, I went wild buying ballerines marked down 50 to 60 percent. I was swooping and scooping like a mad woman.

Are these beyond cute or what?

The Anniel ballerina slippers give new meaning to fashion, function, comfort, chic. Yes, I do wear them outside -- if it isn't raining and I've pretty much given up on snow this year, but no, I wouldn't wear them in snow. However, they are so easy to slip into my bag I don't think twice about changing from sensible to snappy.

The gold ones I showed you will stay in the house. They are my new slipper/slippers. Since they are fabric I think this is a good decision. They're so cute.

Serious, investment, but incredibly important as a fashion color statement. . .

Aren't they sweet with their sparkle and little grosgrain bows?

Never, ever, ever in my life have I bought so many pairs of shoes at one time. It was as if I was possessed. Terrifying, but tantalizing if you know what I mean.

I may never buy shoes again. Maybe.

Oh yes, you asked me why the sales have legislated start and stop dates which, if not observed can result in a hefty fine. The reason, apparently, is unfair competition. Retailers circumvent the laws by calling markdowns "promotions" whenever they feel so inclined.

And, The Winner Is. . .

2012-01-16T14:08:00.000+01:00

Leslie's beautiful cards, each signed by her, will be sent off to Kabrina. Her name was pulled out of the hat (a beret) by My-Reason-For-Living-In-France.

If you want to know more about Leslie, click here. If you wish to meet Kabrina -- I just discovered her today -- click here. She writes beautifully and she has a story to tell, a story of courage, optimism and joy.

Kabrina, please e-mail me at tishjett@yahoo.com with your mailing details. Thank you and congratulations!

Coming up. . . more Kusmi Tea.

It's still January and if you haven't gotten around to your new year's detox, it's not -- it's never -- too late. Tell me please if you would like to be put into the beret for the drawing to be announced next Monday.

A demain.

Next Week or La Semaine Prochaine

2012-01-15T14:42:00.000+01:00

It's quite amazing really. I think I know what I'll be doing every day of the upcoming week -- unless I get sidetracked by something phenomenal and timely that requires immediate sharing with you.

In no particular order (except the Monday giveaway), here's what's on the calendar for the week ahead:

1.) Winner of the gorgeous cards giveaway --http://www.afemmeduncertainage.blogspot.com/2012/01/heart-mind-soul-giveaway.html -- and another giveaway coming up.

2.) Happiness -- a scientific study. The French need to get happy.

3.) News & Views.

4.) My new shoes. Yes, there are more. . .

5.) A French Survey -- it's a surprise (!)

6.) A Weekend in the French countryside.

7.) Another day like today only different.

Weather report: It's getting colder and colder, more frost, glorious sunshine. Dogs happy. Fire in the fireplace. All is right with the world.

Hope you're having a lovely Sunday.

A demain mes trés, trés, trés chers amis.

A Weekend In The Country

2012-01-14T13:07:00.000+01:00

They are not coming down today or any time soon. They make me happy.

Weather report: Crisp and cold, gorgeous sun, frost dusting everything in the garden.

I hope you have a beautiful weekend.

A demain with the weekly line-up.

My New Shoes

2012-01-13T14:01:00.001+01:00

No point in not being frank: I went berserk. Yes I did. I've got a thing for ballerinas and when they're marked down 50 to 60 percent. . . Well, I just can't help it. I try, really I do, but I can't.

Here are two pairs I bought from my favorite boutique in the town next to ours. (I'll photograph the others and show you next week.) To be perfectly honest, I didn't buy them only for me. Andrea will have some too.

If you do not already know about Anniel shoes, they are the Repetto of Italy i.e., originally made for dancers. The quality is excellent, the price somewhere around one-third to sometimes one-half of Repettos. Whereas Repetto runs small for its size, Anniel runs somewhat larger. They are a dream to wear, sublimely comfortable.

A Slice of Life & Les Soldes

2012-01-12T12:45:00.001+01:00

It all started out innocently enough with what seemed to me to be a simple question.

The question in question (posed to someone verrrrry close to me -- I'm not naming names to protect the innocent) was: "So, what do you think of this dress!?"

Can't you just feel the perky, hopeful cheery tone of the query?

This is the conversation, by e-mail, that ensued. To make for easier reading and avoid the necessity of the "she said; she saids," we'll do it like this: I'm "T," the other person is "A."

And the conversation begins:

T: "So, what do you think of this dress!?"

A: "Is this for you?"

T: "It might be. Why do you ask?

A: "If it is for you, all I'm saying is, 'don't do it'."

T: "Why? I was thinking, theoretically, wouldn't it be great in black -- obviously not red -- with black tights and black boots?

A: "Yes, it would be. Is this dress for you or not?"

It looked great -- in theory. Or, it looks great on this model.

T: "Yes, it is and I already ordered it. I ordered one for you too -- in a different size of course and furthermore since we live on different continents we'll never run into each other and you will never be embarrassed."

A: "Let's get back to the point. You ordered this dress for yourself? You know you wouldn't wear something above the knee unless you planned to wear it with tights, boots AND pants."

T: "I am trying to make the painful, stressful, perhaps impossible move from 25 years of pants every day all the time to maybe one little dress. I figured, head to toe black, I'd be protected."

A: "I have no doubt you will like the dress, in theory. It seems like a great dress -- unless it turns out to be made of some weird material or isn't really black.

"The questions I believe you need to ask yourself [Ed. Note: she really does talk like that] are the following: 'Am I REALLY, REALISTICALLY going to wear a dress with tights and boots? When is the last time I wore a dress? When is the last time I wore a skirt? Am I prepared to wear something that may or not completely cover my knees? Do I even own knee-high boots?"

T: "I ordered it in tall so it should cover my knees and yes, I own black knee-high boots. Just because you've never seen them doesn't mean they aren't in my closet -- someplace."

A: "Can I return it in January?"

Denouement: Both dresses were returned. They were truly dreadful, but that does not mean I am not re-thinking the dress/skirt/new me/new year/ let's try something new idea.

I'm now off to the soldes in Paris for some recon scouting before I make any radical decisions. The markdowns started officially yesterday -- they're governed by strict laws of start and stop dates -- and the television news showed some nasty physical encounters over major electronics.

I'll tell you what's out there, what might be a good idea for us to buy now and most important, what are Frenchwomen adding to their wardrobes this time out.

YOUR Faces Through The Ages

2012-01-11T14:52:00.004+01:00

Rayna

Curiously, absorbing, pondering and then trying to write about the stories these extraordinary women confided in me has been extremely difficult. I think those of us of a certain age may think now, in retrospect, that the 30s were probably one of the best decades of our lives.

Did we see them as a period of angst, assessment, last hopes to be acted upon in earnest -- babies, for example -- career moves, a marriage after all of our friends found their partners, searching for the passion not so much in love, but in careers, community commitment, adventure, and, oh, yes, babies.

Here we have a generation of highly educated young women who married later than their mothers, worked on building careers which in many cases they tell me seem to be, ultimately, a means to other ends -- travel, house buying, friendships -- and to their great regret not the passion they had hoped for as they studied for their master's degrees. One told me her parents raised her to believe she should be passionate "about what I do. But I'm not," she said.

And, oh how they question their worth. It's distressing. One of these women was selected to be "a young leader" in one of the largest cities in the United States. There were only 20 some men and women chosen. She's convinced it was a fluke, that she somehow slipped in under the radar. "I don't know how it happened," she said, "all these other people are amazing." And she's not? Curious, as I said.

Cory

They are not complaining, not at all, they're questioning, yearning, restless. They take classes in everything from languages and painting to diplomacy and creative writing, they throw themselves into community service, they belong to gyms (and they actually go regularly) they run marathons and they cultivate their deep friendships carving out time to keep them strong.

Then, there is the positive side. Everyone mentioned close friends who provide perspective and moral support, "extra curricular activities" that fill the void of a less than fulfilling career. Those who are married are happy. Though their careers are not necessarily, at least for the moment, their dream jobs they are grateful for the opportunities their work underwrites, particularly travel. These women love the adventure of discovering new cultures through extended travel, one speaks three languages, plus passible German.

As Cory said, "I'm lucky to have been to India and many, many other amazing places, places most people will never see, places that have helped me gain perspective on my own life."

Those who are trying to have babies are starting to feel nervous. One, unmarried, is as she put it: ". . . doing online dating, which I absolutely hate, but where else to meet men these days when all my friends are married?"

They all seem to "be waiting for things to happen," as Cory put it.

Kaitlyn

Kaitlyn wears her late mother's charm bracelet because, she says, "something about the noise of it keeps me calm." She also added that she takes care of herself these days. "Whether it's buying some flowers after a bad day at work, or my dream bag in Paris while on vacation; I need to make me happy."

Listen to Rayna who is juggling family, part-time work, writing on her blog Bright Copper Kettles and her passion for fashion: "Although there are more than enough mad days when I'm pulling my hair out, mostly I live in the realm of gratitude and possibility. I try not to think too far into the future. With one child in school and the other sticking to his diapers no matter what, I say, take it day-by-day. Having taught high school Spanish for 10 years, I know how quickly a 14-year-old becomes a 24-year-old: no time flat!"

Andrea

Andrea has added some perspective to what is clearly a tumultuous decade: "Here's the thing with the 30s, it feels like there is tons of time ahead of you and you want to make sure you don't get stuck doing something you don't enjoy, yet, at the same time, it also feels too late to completely change course and that you have to live with a lot of decisions that may not have been the right ones and do the best you can with what you have. Not that I know what the right ones might have been, if that makes sense. I guess it's a period of alternating optimism and stress. One thing I know for certain, I want to see much more of the world and never stop learning."

If I could give them one nugget of advice from my certain age perspective it would be: Relax, enjoy the moment, you would be surprised, as Rayna so wisely pointed out, how quickly time passes and don't think for one instant that you cannot re-invent yourselves professionally. We, of a certain age, know you can.

Heart, Mind & Soul -- A Giveaway

2012-01-10T13:03:00.003+01:00

Much more than what they seem, these lovely cards photographed -- and each individually signed -- by Leslie, creator of the charming blog, La Fourchette, are an exploration and extension of her imagination and intuition.**

Leslie is a woman of vast and varied talents. She is a psychotherapist and an artist. When explaining her fascination with photography she quotes photographer Wynn Bullock: "At 42, I decided to become a photographer because it offered a means of creative thought and action. I didn't rationalize this, I just felt it intuitively and followed my intuition, which I have never regretted."

In her own words: "I draw upon my years as a psychotherapist to reveal the fundamental pattern, the very essence of what I am registering in my viewfinder. It is my hope that what is seen in my photographs is not an expression of an incidental mood evoked by a passing moment. . . but rather the innermost nature -- the essence of the image."

Shortly after she began to follow her passion and traveling to France to shoot photographs, Façonnable discovered her work and used her images in its U.S. market. The card line, an outgrowth of that experience, was featured at Nordstrom and several small French-themed boutiques throughout the United States.

Leslie's black and white work is shown in the Timmon's Gallery in Rancho Santa Fe, California.

She, like moi meme, and scores of other bloggers, writers and photographers whom you know well, decided she wanted more than visits to France and moved here in 2004. As she says, "I made the leap to live in the lovely light of the south of France," where she continues her psychotherapy practice and her photography. How lucky for us.

**The cards measure 19.5 cm x 14 cm (approximately 7.5 inches x 5.5 inches), printed on high-quality card stock. The inside is blank waiting to be filled with your words -- in whatever language you prefer. Each set of five cards and ecru envelopes is 25 Euros, postage included to anywhere in the world. But today her cards are a cadeau.

You know the drill, tell me you would like to receive them and I'll announce the winner on Monday.

Bonne chance mes amis.

The Fine Art of Seating Arrangements

2012-01-09T13:49:00.003+01:00

Catherine Nay

Reputations have been made or destroyed; romances commenced or finished; careers enhanced or ended; and friendships created or demolished -- all around a dinner table.

Supposedly Nicolas Sarkozy formally met Carla Bruni at a dinner party. And the rest is history, as they say.

For all those reasons and many, many more, choosing who sits at one's dinner table and who sits next to whom is a deliciously delicate exercise in diplomacy.

Years ago I did an interview with a woman who makes her living creating extraordinary parties for which she carefully contrived brilliant seating plans. She cautioned that at major events with several tables one "must always be careful to seat the wife and the mistress on different sides of the room."

Makes sense.

In imagining a perfect table she said it should include: "a princess, a politician, a writer, a philosopher, two good listeners, a businessman, a designer and 'perhaps' a journalist".

If I could sit next to any man in France at a dinner party, I would choose the philosopher, Alain Finkielkraut. He is more than brilliant. He's funny and tender. (I would ask questions and listen, giving non-stop encouragement to his observations.)

Good conversation is a fine art, highly respected and diligently cultivated in this country. A perfect table is one where the women look beautiful (you understand my meaning I trust, they've made an effort and look their stylish best), the food is perfection -- in taste and presentation -- and the talk is lively, witty, informed and perhaps a little naughty.

If I could choose any woman in France I would like to sit next to at a dinner party -- I guess it would probably be across from since we would both be bookended by men -- it would be Catherine Nay.

I've met her, interviewed her and admired her for years. In fact, her country house is in the same village where we live.

She is on the radio; television -- the camera is in love with her -- writes magazine articles and is arguably the best contemporary political biographer in France.

For me she is the epitome of beauty, elegance, intelligence, and exquisite politesse. Nay suffers no fools. She has a marvelous way of raising her eyebrows and slightly pursing those full lips into a petite moue when one of her peers or a politician says something outrageously stupid during a television debate.

When American journalists want to know what is really happening backstage in French politics she is the go-to interviewee. American Vogue and Vanity Fair have turned to her for her insider take on the personal side of Gallic politics.

Who would you like to sit next to, or across from as the case may be?

Next Week or La Semaine Prochaine

2012-01-08T14:12:00.000+01:00

Quite a busy calendar actually. Let me get right to it, in no particular order:

1.) Lots of surprises which I think you'll like.

2.) A giveaway from a highly talented blogging pal in France.

3.) The "Faces Through The Ages Series" final chapters. You'll see how fascinating the young women in their 30s are. Some of them give new meaning to "angst" which makes me wonder if it's our fault.

4.) A News & Views post and an explanation/announcement of a new schedule that will soon be inaugurated in this space.

Until Monday then, I hope you're having a restful Sunday.

Weather report: Gray and seemingly indecisive, rain (?), drizzle (?), a glimmer of sunshine (?), wind (?) -- who knows?

A demain mes trés chers amis.

A Weekend In The Country

2012-01-07T14:37:00.002+01:00

You can see Andrea with a bauble in her hand. (I think it's time to think about refinishing the coffee table.)

Today is one of my least favorite days of the year. It's not always this precise date, but it's always somewhere around the end of the first week of January.

Un-decorating. I hate it.

While there are still needles on the tree, it's time to take off the lights, wrap up the ornaments, lug what's left outside and vacuum for as long as it takes to suck up the detritus where the festive symbol of the season once stood.

I plan on leaving the wreaths on the doors, maybe until the end of the month, but the remaining decorative touches around the house will be put to rest until December 2012.

C'est la vie. The holidays were wonderful and there's always next year -- or rather the end of this year.

One exceedingly effective remedy to chase away these -- albeit ephemeral -- blues I've found is: a fire in the fireplace and a coupe de champagne. I'm a huge believer in the medicinal benefits of champagne. I do not believe it should be opened exclusively for celebrations.

Au contraire.

Spot On. . . Spot Off

2012-01-06T14:22:00.002+01:00

If you're going to do it; now's the time.

I'm talking about liver spots, or age spots, or sunspots or "freckles" -- that makes them sound almost cute.

I thought about showing you spotted hands, but decided this liver-spotted Dalmatian -- looking very serious about that or some other problem -- makes the point far more poignantly. Funny how animals can be darling even with liver spots.

Life has calmed down now and you can carve out time to have your hands zapped -- or your whole body if you've decided a decision is a decision and you might as well go with it. If you're hesitating for one reason or another simply pick up the phone and make an appointment with your dermatologist.

Just think how thrilling it would be to have such a rendezvous on your spanking new 2012 calendar: "February 2nd: Laser my whole body (with an extra couple of appointments for my hands) to its former youthful luster," for example. Doesn't it make you quiver with excitement? Just think, the new spot-free you?

'Tis the season because unless you live in some tropical paradise or in a country where the seasons are opposite (you know what I mean), the sun is at its all-time low intensity. Unfortunately the little faux freckles come back, so you have to be vigilant and extra generous with the SPF 50/60 cream, on your hands in particular.

I don't know about where you live, but in France dermatologists perform the procedure from October to March, never in the summer.

You have the choice of two methods, the expensive one, lasers, or the more budget friendly, cryotherapy or the use of extreme cold through sources like dry ice.

Do not be duped by creams and lotions that promise spot removal. Not one does. You'll note if you read the label with care -- or ask your dermatologist -- the disclaimer, "fades" skin discoloration. Who cares?

I have a few spots on my hands, just enough to be annoying and make me not wear some of my favorite rings, but happily none on my face. I'm opting for the dry ice. I plan on making my appointment next week. After the mission is accomplished I'll tell you all about it, most particularly if the ratio of discomfort to results was worth it.

A small sampling of the myriad possibilities in what we called in the biz IMPORTANT pieces. Isn't it simply beyond divine that cocktails rings are so white hot in?

Just imagine the cocktail rings we could wear with our new hands. The idea is beginning to seduce, n'est-ce pas?

**********

Ed. Note: I know I promised the final chapters of the Faces Through the Ages series, but for reasons beyond my control I was obliged to bump it to next week. I promise it's worth the wait.

Detox: This & That

2012-01-05T14:44:00.002+01:00

Juniper berries.

It appears we are all -- more or less -- concerned about entering the new year with, let's not call them "resolutions," but rather "good intentions."

French Elle has advice that could help us move painlessly in that direction. Here then, are a few ideas from the pros:

Bouillon, bouillon, bouillon. Make it part of a detox regime. Best if homemade. (As you have pointed out, you can control salt and avoid the nasty stuff listed on the ingredients labels that make no sense and are most certainly not giving us extra vitamins, minerals and good health.)

Homemade chicken bouillon.

Since most of us eat chicken, try this recipe:

In a large pot, toss in the chicken carcass, cover generously with water (3 liters), then add:

One carrot
One large leek
One onion "decorated" (stuck-in) with cloves
One large celery branch
One bay leaf
Thyme and parsely
Salt & pepper

Cook for three hours, let cool and remove all the fat that rises to the top. Then, pass your bouillon through a filter -- cheese cloth for example and I've been told coffee filters work well. You know far better than I.

Now you have the base. You can add various ingredients to your broth or drink it as is. Think about, strips of chicken, shrimp, vegetables a little rice maybe. It's your call.

Spirelli de Gefu instruments which turn veggies into pasta. I will own one no later than next week.

Just for fun, treat yourself to a Spirelli de Gefu, which will transform vegetables into "spaghetti."

Chew, chew, chew. According to the experts, and yes, I know, we've heard this before, but repetition for emphasis: every morsel of food that enters our mouth should be chewed between 20 and 25 times. Supposedly the mechanism releases enzymes that not only help in digestion, but also in weight loss.

On another register. . . If you can, think about a visit to a hammam with gommage (a full body exfoliation).

Gommage Corps du Sable Noir from Anne Semonin -- where function meets fun.

I've done this. It's heaven. Recommended once a month. (I've never done it monthly. Unfortunately.)

Steam clean your face. You don't need a professional for this, just a bowl, hot water, a towel to build a little tent for your head over the bowl, three to four minutes and a few drops of essential oils like juniper berry or rose geranium.

When you decamp, spray your rosy fresh skin with a spritz of eau de rose or eau de fleur d'oranger which you always keep in the refrigerator at the ready, n'est-ce pas?

An Easy Target

2012-01-04T14:28:00.001+01:00

Don't touch it! Don't go near it!

That's what I am, an easy target for weight loss, detox, after holiday cut back, new year possibilities. You'll note I avoided the use of the dreaded word/concept "resolutions." I'm cutting them out of my repertoire this year, or, more accurately, I'm not broadcasting my resolutions. In that way I'll be the only one aware of the fact I fall outside the success statistics.

Probably, I should have shared my latest information in that realm on January 2nd, but I'm still working on my "No More Procrastination" resolution from previous Januarys. But I figure this falls succinctly within the better late than never category.

OK then. On the TV news the other night a nutritionist said that we shouldn't panic when we step on the scale after holiday indulgences. He claimed -- and I'm sure you, like moi meme hope he's right -- that those two to three pounds are not "real weight," but rather simple old water weight from overly salted holiday fare.

To lose the weight, which isn't really, he said drink tons of water (I forgot to write down how much, but it was a lot, much more than our eight glasses a day), don't go near the salt shaker and avoid sparkly water because it adds "bloat" which makes us feel yucky and look poochy.

(I just thought I would try out those words in the new year. I don't think I've ever written them before.)

No, no, no and no. You'll be sorry. . .

He said we should stick to the no salt, flat water regime for three to four days and the weight will disappear -- naturally. . .

A great friend of mine, a magazine editor, told me the best selling issues, bolstered by massive e-mail feedback, always have features about flat stomachs. Bubbly water distends the stomach. And, of course, I love it so. Lots of bubbly waters also have high salt content. Sometimes you just can't win.

Pierre Is Baaaaack. . .!

2012-01-03T15:56:00.001+01:00

My Chanel brooch.

A few days ago I mentioned most of the people in my life who make it so pleasant and account for one of the major reasons I love living in France.

I believe I left Pierre off that list. That's because he did have his boutique in the town near ours, but decided he wanted more sun and headed off to the South of France.

Pierre is my jeweler. He has made some amazing pieces for me and has performed the magical. He has taken jewels given to me in the past by -- let's see, how shall I phrase this (?) -- what I came to realize were despicable persons. (Well, to be honest only one deserves that qualifier. The others were unpleasant or simply, as my mother would have said, "Not suitable.")

No matter. Pierre took the sapphire and diamonds right off its ring and turned the stones into a clasp for the pearls given to me by my first husband. I turned the lovely piece over to my daughter as an engagement present. There were a few other bits like that. A stunning, read very large, emerald cut aquamarine given to me by my mother-in-law whom I adored btw, but was never set. He made a pendant out of it with diamonds that were around my mother's engagement ring. Andrea received that as a wedding present -- "something old, something new, something blue." In retrospect I should have lent it to her, that way she would have had "something borrowed" and I would still have the bijou. (It's a joke, Drea.)

Pierre is a Buddhist. He explained to me that if one follows the teachings one learns that good always comes out of bad so he believed -- and convinced me with little effort -- that I was changing the karma of these pieces. (Need I add that in the back of my mind I was thinking, "If good comes from bad, I wonder if bad comes from good?" I didn't venture down that path.)

Now with the new year he has decided to make monthly visits to our little corner of the world and since I have a couple of ideas for him, I'm off.

I will be taking my Chanel brooch with me. It has a wiggly pearl which I'm always afraid will drop off and I would be desolate.

And, The Winner Is. . .

2012-01-02T14:14:00.002+01:00

Jacqueline of the beautiful blog, Beauty In The Ordinary.

Please send me all your mailing info and Kusmi Tea will send you your gift (tishjett@yahoo.com). Happy, Happy New Year!

I think I'll whine a little and see if someone over there might send me some Detox and maybe a little Boost and Cool. I'm doing quite well on the Love front and I don't want to be greedy so won't ask for the Algothe.

Another piece of business for today. I was supposed to be "attending" a trés, trés chic luncheon in Paris on January 1st with my pals from By Invitation Only, but I unfortunately was unable to join the exquisitely stylish, fascinating, elegant, cultivated, sophisticated group this time. However, may I suggest you run right over to visit Martha, our leader, at Spenderosa, where she will give you the details and lead you to other members who you will see have beautiful, heart-warming, generous, optimistic thoughts on the possibilities for our new year.

As one would expect, everyone was adorned in swoon-worthy ensembles -- and accessories -- to ring in 2012. Wish I could have joined you, I know it was divine as are all of you.

Bonne Année my dear friends.

Next Week or La Semaine Prochaine

2012-01-01T13:36:00.001+01:00

Shelter dogs, kissing in the New Year. (I am on the Lands End e-mail list and this is what I found this morning. )

And we're off. . . into a new year of promises, possibilities and, we hope, peace and goodwill. Now, there's a doable resolution: treat others with kindness and tolerance and remember to say "thank you, I love you, you're welcome, I missed you," to those with whom we live every day.

As promised, but postponed, tomorrow I'll announce the winner of the Kusmi Tea drawing.

On the calendar for the first week of 2012:

1.) News & Views

2.) The final chapters in our Faces Through the Ages series, including those from the 30-somethings. You won't want to miss these candid, touching, "out there" stories.

Surprises. Of course, surprises (!)

And, again and again: May this be your best year ever, may your dreams come true, your hopes fulfilled.

A demain mes trés, trés, trés chers amis.

Happy, Happy New Year

2011-12-31T15:03:00.004+01:00

Nothing profound, only a hope that you will have a healthy, joy-filled New Year in all the ways you wish and dream. May you and yours be blessed with peace, contentment and happiness in 2012 and in the years to come.

I can never thank you enough for giving me a year I never could have imagined enriched by your outpourings of kindness, humor, good sense and generosity. I look forward to another year with you filled with serendipity and friendship.

Bonne Année and Happy New Year!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Je vous embrasse tres, tres fort,

Tish

Relationships

2011-12-30T16:40:00.002+01:00

In France, life is always all about relationships. We have special relationships with our butcher our baker and some of us even with our candlestick maker. I frequent a charming shop in the town near ours where I find the most exquisite heathery colored candles in a variety of unexpected hues.

Most women have those types of connections with their hair stylist, colorist (possibly), doctor, and maybe manicurist for some. My list of "friends who help" (FWH) includes all of the above plus, in no particular order: my pharmacist, medical pedicurist, dermatologist, dressmaker/seamstress, dry cleaner, vegetable man, cheese couple, wine shop owner, pastry shop, florist, chocolatier (also in the town near ours), special frozen food emporium -- Picard -- and one of my all time favorites, Françoise, who owns the perfumerie in Neuilly where My-Reason-For-Living-In-France and I keep our fragrance wardrobes au courant. When I say au courant, I don't mean to imply we change our signature perfumes for the latest creations. We never do. MRFLIF stays with Chanel Monsieur and I alternate -- depending upon my mood -- between Parfum Hermes and Clinique's Aromatics Elixir. In my case I also have all the attendant products to go with each.

Joelle and Jean-Jacques

Oh yes, I almost forgot. I also have a relationship with the husband and wife who own the librairie, i.e. book, newspaper, magazine store. They order my English language magazines and any other out of the ordinary requests I might have. For their French customers they have a reputation for fine recommendations on the latest books.

Our obscenely delicious Christmas dessert from Tendre Caprice where we have an extremely warm relationship with Clarisse whose husband is always backstage inventing new wonders.

Why am I mentioning this you might wonder, particularly on the day before the last day of the year? It's simple really, I was thinking recently about the reasons I love living in France and these FWH were at the top of my list. They make life rich, interesting, immensely personal and warm. We have a coterie of people who know what we like, know what we might like, take the time to please, take the time to chat, all in all they comfort us in the knowledge that maybe, just maybe the world is not spinning out of control in our simple day to day lives, that it's not all about shopping malls, fast food, Internet shopping, impersonal service.

Ca fait chaud au coeur. It warms the heart.

Your Cadeau. . . Joyeux Noel!

2011-12-24T10:30:00.003+01:00

Instants**

What you will have in your hand is not a diary, a gratitude journal, a happiness notebook, a calendar or blank pages waiting for to-do lists. What you are –- or could be –- holding is the best moments of your life, a collection of joyous, funny, surprising, ephemeral instants that needn’t be lost forever in the melee of a life led too quickly, too carelessly or perhaps too carefully.

By taking a few moments each day to gradually fill these pages with the instants that add rich detail to your personal history -- your autobiography -- you’ll see how it’s almost always the small things that make life meaningful and memorable.

We’re bombarded with tips on how to save time and in the commotion of staying in constant motion we get dinner on the table in under 15 minutes, eat it in 10 and somehow manage to gulp down a glass of wine while having an abbreviated “how was your day” conversation with the most important people in our lives. Multi-tasking is suddenly a coveted goal, not a distressing aberration of modern life.

Every day everyone has three, five or maybe more serendipitous, if infinitesimal experiences: a random act of kindness, the sighting of the first robin of spring, a kiss, lunch with a friend, a compliment -- who knows? That is the wonder of each new day, and day-by-day we’re losing the wonder. As prudently as we plan every hour of our existence we can never know what will give us pause, intrude upon our routine, make us smile. Serendipity, lest we forget, is the ability to make happy and unexpected discoveries by accident.

That’s what this little book, your book, is all about. It doesn’t demand grand writing, great effort or profound pronouncements. It is simply a record and a constant reminder that each day counts for far more than what we have so carefully planned.

** Mode d'emploi (User Instructions): This is your Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year's cadeau (after you complete your DIY project explained in yesterday's post). Take your golden ink and write "INSTANTS" on the cover of your new notebook -- a word that translates in many, many languages -- and the rest is up to you.

We gave them in leather (you see pictured above) to Andrea and Will as a wedding present. INSTANTS is embossed on the cover as are their initials in the bottom right hand corner.

Life is too short not to treasure the instants.

May you have the joy, peace and love of the season throughout this year and those to come. And, may your life be filled with serendipitous instants. That is my wish for you.

A Gift for You

2011-12-23T13:39:00.000+01:00

It is impossible to tell you how much joy and contentment you have brought into my life. Truly, you have no idea.

For some time I have been trying to find a way to give every one of you a gift. Not just a gift of words, but something real you can hold in your hand, keep, and I hope treasure because ultimately you will take this gift and make of it what you will.

It is a small DIY project on your end. You know I'm not clever in the DIY department, but this one is a breeze.

Here is what you will need:

1.) One pretty notebook, may I suggest Moleskine. (All the better if your notebook has a ribbon marker.)

2.) Gold Ink (or a marker with gold ink) to write one word on the cover.

3.) A pen you will love to use every day.

I realize you will not have the time to rush out to find your notebook in the next few days. That's of no importance. If you have it for the New Year that would be perfect.

Tomorrow, on Christmas Eve, I will explain your gift in full.

Also, in the next few days I'll announce the winner of the Kusmi Tea giveaway. If you haven't told me you would like to be part of the drawing, now's the time.

After tomorrow, I'm taking a short hiatus en famille. Andrea and Will are playing in Paris today so I have free time. I shall now write your Christmas gift post which you may "open" on Christmas eve.

I wish you joy, love, peace and happiness in all the ways you wish.

Lost In Translation -- Again. . .

2011-12-22T13:17:00.001+01:00

Since My-Reason-For-Living-In-France (MRFLIF) has not gotten beyond e-mail in his comprehension of the Internet and all its magic and mysteries, he likes me to tell him what I'm up to on my blog -- which he doesn't really "get" but thinks it's wonderful nonetheless.

When I decided it was time I got on the Facebook bandwagon I tried -- and failed -- to explain why I would embark on such an endeavor. As a consequence I thought I would share our conversation with you. I swear, every word is true though some have been translated. The conversation transpired in French, English and our own version of Franglais.

MRFLIF: Don't you think you have enough to do without joining Facelift?

Moi: It's Facebook.

MRFLIF: Whatever.

Moi: I really don't want you to go around telling people I joined Facelift.

MRFLIF: Don't worry. Just tell me why you joined this new thing.

Moi: I need a broader platform.

MRFLIF: A what?

Moi: A broader platform.

MRFLIF: I don't know what you're talking about. I'm an architect. Since when do you need a platform?

Moi: It's not that kind of a platform. It's a 'presence' which helps me build my name recognition where people come from all over the world and we become virtual friends and sometimes real friends.

MRFLIF: What are you talking about? Don't you have enough friends? I'm French I understand that one can only have a small number of real friends.

Moi: This is different. I need people to 'like' me.

MRFLIF: People always like you.

Moi: Thank you, that's very sweet. But, this is different.

MRFLIF: You already have about a million people visiting you every day on your blog. Those people 'like' you. Why do you all of a sudden need a 'platform'?

Moi: I do not have one million people visiting my blog daily -- if only -- that's page views and my blog is three-years-old. Furthermore lots of those people come over, check me out and never come back because they don't like me.

MRFLIF: What are you talking about?

Moi: We'll discuss all this later. For the moment, as I said, it's important that I'm on Facebook, especially if everything comes through with my 'project'. I need an important platform. And, that means lots of friends. You know, people who 'like' me. Everyone says so.

MRFLIF: I trust you.

Moi: Perfect.

MRFLIF: I remember when I always understood what you were telling me. I guess those days are over?

Moi: Just trust me.

MRFLIF: Oh, I almost forgot. Andrea said you should probably start Twitting. Are you going to start Twitting?

Moi: No, I am not.

MRFLIF: Do you want to tell me what it is?

Moi: No.

MRFLIF: You see what I mean? We're not communicating the way we used to.

A Table For All Holidays

2011-12-21T10:01:00.001+01:00

The exquisite, now classic, Baccarat crystal polar bear. Imagine him gamboling down your holiday table.

Welcome to the guest post of my great friend -- and first American friend -- in Paris -- Jean Rafferty, and regular contributor to Art + Auction, Town & Country, Veranda and other publications. This is a replay, but her taste and her oh, so au courant -ness bears a repeat performance. I think you'll agree. Here then is the elegant dreamscape of what she imagines would be the perfect setting for all the holidays from Hanukkah and Noel to a new year we hope will be filled with hope, peace, joy and promise.

The art of the dinner party? Nobody does it better. French hostesses –and hosts – dress their tables with the same panache as they dress their fashionable selves. And holidays, particularly Réveillon (New Year's Eve) liberate decorative imaginations. Some of my most memorable souvenirs of Réveillons Past might offer up ingredients for a Réveillon Present.

THE THEME:

Snow and ice with glints of gold and silver: This scenario is inspired by the most exquisite tablecloth I’ve ever dined upon – a white organdy dream by Noêl with a lily and thistle motif picked out in ice blue and gold thread and set over a white linen batiste underskirt. My friend Marie-Charles, a consummate French hostess, owns this jewel along with twelve napkins - almost too beautiful to put your lips to -- that were hand-embroidered by her mother, a zingy vicomtesse. The good news for the needle and thread-challenged (moi-même) is that Noël will custom do it for you in your own choice of pattern and threads.

No such gem in your armoire? Pas de problème, Gallic resourcefulness comes into play. A beautiful pure white tablecloth, a lovely embroidered vintage linen sheet or a pristine white piqué bedcover that you can mix with blue napkins will do the trick.

THE TABLE SETTINGS

We’re in the country where à la mode is not about ice cream on your pie, but leaping ahead like a true locomotive of fast forward French fashion. Today’s tables are all about The Mix.

What could be better than the Porcelain Manufactory Nymphenburg’s Pearl Symphony Blue, an elegant twelve-sided plate with wide ice blue rim trimmed in tiny white porcelain pearls (and it's dishwasher-proof!)?

One can mix it with Mille Nuits midnight blue fluted crystal dessert plates by French designer Mathias for Baccarat.

As place card holders these tiny silver and blue enamel picture frames from Asprey add another touch of glamor.

CRYSTAL AND GLASS

Clear crystal St. Remy goblets by Baccarat (or their distant glass cousins from the Conran Shop); Lalique’s crystal flutes with tiny snowball bases; blue and white-striped Murano water tumblers.

SILVER

Puiforcat’s Art Deco Nantes service is as modern today as when it was designed by Jean Puiforcat himself in the 1930s.

LIGHTING

Ambiance, ambiance, ambiance calls for candlelight. Crystal ice block candlesticks by Arik Levy for Baccarat -- they come in one to five stacked crystal cubes -- are perfect, all with white tapers. (Ed. Note: I found almost exactly the same cubes at Ikea.)

FLOWERS

Haute couture blooms come from couturier florists. For my snow scape, I’d choose a bank of Avalanche white roses from Parisian florist Eric Chauvin (a fashion-insider’s favorite) arranged in my low boat-shaped Lalique vase, but a clear glass fishbowl might even be more fun, sprayed in a design of white and silver and nestled into mounds of glistening faux snow.

(And if you have room, nothing could be more enchanting than a crystal polar bear or two or three gamboling in the neige.)

For more intimate floral touches à la Parisienne, floral star Marianne Robic sets every place with a silver timbale of blue forget-me-nots, mini white roses and snowdrops.

THEN. . . Take a photo (like a friend of mine who has her maid snap her before every grand event) and remove anything that is TOO MUCH. Less is more.

THE MENU

If you’re brave enough, go for all white food to match the theme. The late Comtesse Hélène de Mortemart who was as charming and fun as she was elegant introduced me to this idea decades ago. Suggestions include translucent oysters (so good for your health, but only if you know your guests are aficionados), risotto with white Alba truffles, Coquilles St. Jacques (scallops), Poulet Chaud-Froid or line-caught grilled Sea Bass for the main dish with a special dessert from my new friend Yann, whose culinary blog You Are What You Eat is a trove of scoop about French restaurants and recipes.

Despite its name, he says, “Omelette Norvegienne" is a classical French dish of vanilla ice cream on a sponge cake layer,rounded with Italian meringue. You stick it in the oven for a few minutes, and then flame it with Grand Marnier. “ (For details click above.)

LE VIN

A crisp, white Sancerre goes wonderfully with the fish dishes and Prince Robert of Luxembourg's new Super Premium, Clarendelle Amberwine, blended at his American Dillon family's famed Château Haut-Brion is an intriguing choice with dessert.

FOR EXTRAVAGANT TOASTS OR WHEN MIDNIGHT STRIKES. . .

Walk from white into the Technicolor world of Lyonnais glass artist Vincent Breed to Champagne toast the New Year with his tipsy and reversible wine glass/vase collection called "Bouquet."

One end is a round goblet; the other a raspberry red, orange, lemon, lime or violet flute. Giving them as guest favors would mark a delightful start to the New Year, Hanukkah or Christmas.

(Picture of Breed glasses from France Today.)

A Christmas Wish

2011-12-20T13:15:00.003+01:00

Paris all aglow in its seasonal splendor from now until January 12, 2012.

Once again, I've convinced my darling friend, James, of the sublime (but currently suffering from erratic posting schedules) blog, Man of the 50s, to focus his uniquely James views on life and the holiday season, Christmas to be specific.

He came through -- as I knew he would -- in sparkly, spiky form proving once again that one can make a point without proselytizing or posturing.

If you've had the misfortune (Ed. Note: I beg to disagree, if you have had the good fortune) to read my blog (Man of the 50s), you'll know that I am one of those individuals who seems to pine for "the good old days."

I really don't. I just think there are some things that didn't need to change. Frankly I'm tickled that personal hygiene has improved. Can you imagine a room warmed by a fireplace, filled with unwashed souls in wool clothes? Bah humbug indeed. Other than that I can see no reason to have the kind of Christmas we have today.

No, this won't be a sermon on commercialism. I remember Thanksgiving, even if the Mall doesn't. Who in the name of all that is Christmas decided that the only thing Thanksgiving is good for is to be "Black Friday" eve? And what a name for the beginning of what should be a wonderful experience. Instead it has been turned into a competition that rivals NASCAR's "The Chase" with just as many wrecks and casualties. Oh drat I'm starting to sermonize, somebody stop me.

And no, I'm not going to rant about the reason for the season. That is for you to work out on your own. If you think it's a reworked pagan festival and Christ was really born in mid-summer, OK. I feel sorry for you, but OK.

I guess my point is that however you choose to hold Christmas, it should start in your heart, that much has never changed. The ultimate moment is after the gift giving and merry making, you sit and bask in pure, undiluted love. If there are children in the room, well you know.

So this is my Christmas wish to all: May you have that ultimate moment and may it last forever and a day. And for once, trust me, I know.

A Fabulously Frothy French Fairyland

2011-12-19T13:25:00.003+01:00

My great, great amie Jeanne-Aelia Desparmet-Hart, an elegantly creative interior designer and divine inspiration behind the blog Through the French Eye of Design -- where she shares her sophisticated French inspired (she's French after all) ideas for us to appropriate -- graciously agreed to help inspire us in our holiday decorating this year. What she says and does is so gleaming, glistening, glamourous it takes one's breathe away.

I hope you enjoy her ideas and are inspired as much as I am.

I received such a kind and flattering invitation: My talented friend Letitia** asked if I would share a few ideas for a Holiday decor. Bien sûr!

The implied brief was carte blanche. I like that.

I plunged into the challenge at the first opportunity. This is what I would, will, might do if and when I decide to send some invitations.

MY operative word: PRETEND Holiday decor...thus little inconveniences like price and such? just not part of the picture.

GRANDES IDEES POUR UNE PETITE FETE D'HIVER

What is the magic formula for decorating a spectacular Winter Wonderland dinner party?

Lots of white, lots of silver, lots of crystal and glass. And a few little details more.To be applied everywhere.

Start with the mantle, the buffet, the consoles; take your inspiration from the enchanting postcard pictures of Vermont in December, let's say.

When that is done, all the attention turns to the table. A crisp white antique table cloth will be spread, and for added drama, a silver brocade shawl or a rich sari becomes a stunning runner.

Let's not forget the fine embroidered napkins waiting in the drawer. After all, c'est la fête!

The house's most precious glassware will be needed. Lalique or Baccarat a plus.

Crystal plates will be piled on top of simple white and silver china.

And of course, what would a Winterfest be without candelabras; statuesque silver or tall lacy Murano will do just fine.

The ornate family silver will lend some old world richness.

Mercury glass is the absolute best for making it all sparkle.

To be displayed generously; no limit.

For added drama, a large piece of rock crystal or two in the center of the table will bring on an inevitable ovation.

With all this grandeur a bit of whimsy and fun must not be left out. Artificial snow and Lapland fauna: the Alps or the Rockies have come... inside.

A few faux snow balls will round off the Wintery recipe.

A fete without flowers? of course not. Keep them white, keep them grand.

et voilà!

Now all that is left is one's personal interpretation. As in all formulas, a little tweak here and there will do no harm. Adapt, adapt, adapt.

Most of all,

Have a great time!

**I left in the compliment for which I am most grateful considering the source. Merci Jeanne-Aelia. I trust you'll run right over to meet her if you're not already addicted to her sumptuous style.

Next Week Or La Semaine Prochaine

2011-12-18T19:24:00.001+01:00

All through the house not a creature is stirring except for the mice (probably). Translation: after hours of non-stop catching up with pains au chocolat and baguette with crunchy sea salt and French coffee everyone took a nap.

Andrea and Will are home, now there's a fire in the fireplace, candles are glowing, the lights on the front door wreaths are lit, the boeuf bourguignon is slowly simmering on the stove, all is right with the world.

Just a quick note to tell you next week will be filled with surprises.

On Monday my great friend Jeanne-Aelia Desparmet-Hart, blogger and interior decorator extraordinaire, has a gorgeous post for us.

I'm also expecting one more special guest appearance and then you'll be hearing from me. If, I can muster my courage I will see about pictures on the street in Paris. I'm a little out of practice.

A demain mes trés, trés, trés, trés chers amis.

A Weekend In The Country

2011-12-17T13:50:00.001+01:00

One of the many charming boutiques in the town near our village.

Today I'm giddy with anticipation -- and in a straightening up frenzy. Andrea and Will arrive tomorrow morning.

Boeuf bourguignon will soon be simmering on the stove for Sunday dinner. (It always seems to taste better the day after it's made, some of you exquisite cooks out there may disagree.)

Almost all the silver is polished. Linens freshly ironed and smelling of lavender. Next chore, move my white poinsettia plants into pretty cache pots, cut some long, red berry branches (you'll note I do not know their proper name) in the garden for a winter bouquet and I'm all set.

On my shopping list today:

1.) Clementines.

2.) Cheese, cheese and more cheese.

3.) Pains au chocolat

4.) Chaussons aux pommes

5.) Butter with crunchy sea salt.

6.) Plain French yogurt.

The town hall -- last year -- in the snow.

Our weather, after wild rain and wind storms, has cleared into bright sun and cold temperatures. Beautiful.

I imagine you're having a busy, busy weekend. Still, I hope it will be fun and joy-filled.

A demain.

Tea for You

2011-12-16T14:34:00.003+01:00

Nothing keeps us more on message in our realm of sophisticated femmes d'un certain age (et les hommes aussi) than today's giveaway. Think of it as the holiday gift we would dream of receiving had we known it existed. And, once discovered, we can request timely refills as future cadeaux.

If you are not aware of Kusmi Tea, let me tell you: It is beyond -- yes waaay beyond chic. It has pedigree. In 1867, Pavel Michailovitch Kousmichoff founded the Kousmichoff tea house in St. Petersburg. (He also supplied the Tsar's court.)

In 1907 he sent his eldest son, Viatcheslav, to open a branch in London. Ten years later, the tea house moved to Paris near the Arc de Triomphe and Kusmi Tea was born.

Business slowly declined over the years though remaining one of the best kept secrets for connoisseurs in Paris who loyally sought the divine teas from the original Avenue Niel workshops. In 2003 Kusmi Tea was sold to the Orebi family and since that moment has enjoyed a worldwide renaissance with not only the classics for which the name is renowned, but also new, exciting blends.

Today's giveaway falls into the unequivocal category of "new and exciting." Welcome to the Kusmi Tea Wellness Collection of five delicious blends that promise spiritual, mental, emotional and physical well-being, all presented in the most divine -- read collectible/reusable -- multi-colored tin baroque-style boxes.

The promise is simple, a wellness tea "for every moment in life," to whit:

1.) Detox: Helps us face the morning after the night before, recover after an overly indulgent meal or to jump-start a diet. "The cleansing benefits of Detox purify the body and mind."

2.) Sweet Love: Adds a touch of spice to a romantic evening or will help win the heart of a new love interest. "The special blend awakens the senses."

3.) Be Cool: Helps us unwind after a hectic, stressful, non-stop day. "The gentle blend relaxes the body and immerses the mind in an exquisite world of opulent relaxation."

4.) Boost: If you feel your energy has hit an all-time low and you need a pick-me-up, Boost will bring you back to life with its stimulating qualities.

5.) Algothe: Blended to strengthen the body against daily attacks of stress, pollution, changes in temperatures, etc. We are told "there is nothing like an Algothe mineral trace element cure to restore one to full health."

Et voila, that's the story.

Next week I'll tell you more specifically about the recipes of the blends. Until then, here are the simple rules: Just tell me you would like to win the giveaway.

One of my close advisers suggested a clever spin on the game: If you "like" me on my new Facebook page as well, you double your chances. I promise you, this self-promotion bit is not a blatant attempt to make me the most popular girl on the block. In time you'll understand. Until then. . .thank you, thank you, thank you.

I'll have my daughter draw your names from a hat and will announce the winner a week from today.

News, Views, This & That. . .

2011-12-15T11:00:00.001+01:00

Last night on the 8 p.m. news, reporters took to the streets in Paris to randomly ask men and women whether they usually found what they were hoping to receive beneath the Christmas tree.

The vast majority said, "almost never." Men were disappointed by the scarf, scarf, scarf gift when what they really wanted was the latest iPad. Women desired a specific handbag which Santa never seemed to be able to find, instead year after year they open a store wrapped, random bottle of perfume, bought they suspected at the last minute. However, women over 60 wished for that random bottle of perfume and instead usually found a box of chocolates instead. The only receivers who were happy with their cadeaux were those 20-ish and under because apparently no one knows what to give them so instead they get an envelope with money to choose for themselves. They like that.

I'm now off to have my hair "broomed" (highlights) so I too will look bright and festive in keeping with the season. My toes, as of yesterday, are a cheery cherry red.

Hello Facebook

If you found my announcement about Facebook a tad large/obnoxious yesterday I just wanted you to know I'm officially over there and will have a little tidbit of something for you every day. Next I'll figure out, or rather my friend Annette will tell me, how to befriend back. I'm baby-stepping my way into the experience, plus I have a really, really excellent reason for wanting to "build" my Facebook presence. (I almost can't believe I'm talking like that, "my Facebook presence. . . What next?)

Soon it will be small and discreet on this page, sort of like me. Not small, but rather discreet.

A Huge Surprise

Before I run out the door, I must tell you about tomorrow. I'm doing a giveaway. It's hugely chic, very appropriate for the season and honestly I love it. In fact, I wish the company -- did I say trés, trés chic (?!) -- would include me on its Noel gift list.

The Blues & The Blahs

2011-12-14T11:30:00.000+01:00

Oh, let me get this straight: You hate the holidays. You basically don't appreciate several members of your extended family and forced reunions where everyone makes nice and exchange gifts in the spirit of obligation is not your idea of fun, family or festive. You'd rather read a good book and move on.

Well, chances are that's not an option. Someone will encourage (force?) you to get into the swing of things and act like you appreciate the true meaning of the season -- the one about goodwill toward all, you know the drill -- and chances are you'll comply. After all, these performances have probably been part of your hallowed holiday traditions for as long as you can remember.

To divert one's mind and turn the blues to red and green (I know, isn't that pathetic? I'm almost embarrassed, but obviously not enough to take it down.) I've conducted another one of my unscientific surveys to discover what Frenchwomen do when they're feeling down. These techniques, you will see, may be employed any time of year. If you need them now, by all means, help yourself. If you wish to hold on to the suggestions for other occasions, feel free to do so.

What we have here are scaled down remedies that do not involve a winning lottery ticket, a doctor or a pharmacist for those mornings when you don't feel like getting out of bed. This is how they pick themselves up, brush themselves off and start all over again and again and again.

Marion: "When I'm really feeling blue, I take a long nap -- I know, a classic escape mechanism, but it works. When I'm simply in a blah mood, I go window shopping. I don't buy anything. I never buy anything when I'm in an 'iffy' mood."

Juliette: "I call a friend or friends, ask them to get all dressed up and off we go to the Hemingway Bar at the Hotel Ritz for one cocktail. It only takes one -- they're very expensive -- when you are at the Ritz."

Giselle: "I sit quietly and breathe deeply for as long as it takes. . ."

Anne-Françoise: "I call my son-in-law and ask him to write a prescription for me." (I intercede, re-explaining to my best French friend why this is NOT the answer we're looking for here.) "OK," she says, "In that case I'll make a pot of tea, call you and tell you to come over immediately so we can gossip and say terrible things about everyone we know." (There you go, that's perfect.) "Then, when you leave I'll call Daniel for the prescription."

Patricia: "I find a funny film playing some place get in my car -- all by myself, that's essential -- and when I get to the theater I order a huge bucket of popcorn and laugh and cry in the dark while I eat every last piece of popcorn. So far it has always worked."

Claudie: "I dig holes in my garden. It gets out my anger, my misery, it's hard work and then I go out and buy little trees or plants and put them in the holes. I know it's strange to dig the holes when I don't know exactly what will go into them, but I always find just the right thing and my garden is beautiful."

Galeries Lafayette (the mere size and scope of the place makes me want to take a nap).

Françoise I grew up in Paris and the city itself has always lifted my spirits. When I do feel down though, I take the Metro to either Galeries Lafayette or Printemps and the bright lights and the displays, particularly in the china and crystal departments instantly lift my mood. I don't shop, I look and absorb ideas and maybe even all the light. Who knows? All I know is I've been doing this since I was a teenager and it still affects me in the same way.

Anne-Charlotte: "I sit on the floor with my two huge dogs. One lies down against my leg and the other one throws herself over my lap. As I pet them they seem to sap the depression out of me; then as a reward for their therapy, I take them for a walk."

Alexandra: "I walk deep into the forrest and without making a sound, watch families of deer eating and strolling through the trees. I have to be totally concentrated because they can hear the slightest movement."

Frances: "I go to an exposition. When I see over and over what beauty humans are capable of creating it gives me a certain sense of peace in my turmoil."

Chantal: "On a really bad day I combine two techniques. I get up early and ride my horse for two or three hours. I come home, take a shower; get quite dressed up; take special care with my hair and makeup; and drive into Paris for dinner with friends. Then I stay the night at my sister's apartment. The next day when I go back to the country I've forgotten my problems."

Marie-Laure: "I bake. And I bake, and I bake and I bake, particularly apple tarts. It takes a

little bit of concentration, the kitchen smells wonderful and my family appreciates the result."

It's fascinating the way women are drawn to flowers for comfort, beauty and peace.

Elise: "I buy myself a huge bouquet of coral tulips. At night I put them in the cellar and bring them back up every morning. They usually last for two weeks. That's a lot of pleasure from one ephemeral purchase."

Letitia (c'est moi --that's what all my French friends call me): "I keep notebooks. In one I have words I love, lists of books to read; in another ideas for articles, my blogs, etc. and in a separatecahier I keep lists and lists of things I want to do; things I want to accomplish; tiny positive actions to take when I'm feeling down. I force myself to choose something from one column. These are not life-changing goals or bucket lists. My recommendations to self can be as simple as: go swimming; unpack the suitcase that's been sitting there for months; pull a bunch of clothes and accessories out of the closet and re-invent new outfits."

You get the idea, nothing earth shaking, but it gets my mind moving in another direction.

(I love these little notebooks, just add a box of colored pencils and they are the perfect gift for a child or an adult.)

Don't tell me you're not laughing.

These too, too funny/adorable cards pictured throughout come from Puppy Paws Productions.

What Is Luxury? Take II

2011-12-13T08:55:00.002+01:00

Marie-Antoinette about to play something complicated from the look of the sheet music. My first luxury wish today would be to try piano lessons -- again. They didn't take the first time.

Votre definition du luxe s'il vous plaît?

Ah, the meaning of luxury. . .

In this, the second chapter of my completely unscientific sampling of 20 French women between the ages of 40 and 80 on what for them signifies luxury two recurring themes prevailed: Security and Time.

Let me hasten to add, the last preoccupation for the majority of these women is to worry about "security" in the strictest sense of the word. It seems to me their response is a reflection of the current state of the world -- and the daily hammering reminders on every evening newscast -- that makes even the most materially comfortable among us uncomfortable, perhaps even anxious for our and our children's futures.

As for the "time" factor (i.e., lack thereof) it varied, not surprisingly, depending upon each woman's age.

Once again the only constraint I put on the question, or the answers if you will, was to caution my subjects to please not wander off into billionaire fantasy land. That's too easy for those who can travel over there and for the rest of us it's just plain annoying. But if one's luxury is a dream, which you'll see below it sometimes is -- how wonderful is that?

Giséle: "To bathe for an hour in the milk of a jennet." For those of you, like moi, who didn't know what in the world she was talking about she longs, like Cleopatra, to soak in the milk of a female donkey (I looked this up and the word is either jenny or jennet) she said "female donkey". I asked her if regular cow's milk would do the trick if she couldn't find the real thing, she said "non". (Frenchwomen can be very stubborn when they have an idea in their heads.)

Anne-Françoise: "To set my clock for 9 a.m. instead of 6 a.m."

Annie: "I have a room in my house everyone in my family knows is 'my room' and in that room I have all my music and my piano. For me, it is pure luxury to pass hours playing the piano. Sometimes I just do my scales the way I did when I was a little girl. Now I find it more difficult to play Chopin; instead I play music from films. But no matter what I play, I'm happy and transported into another world."

Louis XVI candelabra

Juliette: "I'm a descendant of an old French family and as a result I have beautiful silver and porcelain, but unfortunately no longer have the means to entertain in the way my parents and grandparents once did. However, my great luxury is to invite a few intimate friends for a simple dinner: salad, omelette, bread and wine for example, served on all the precious family relics I still possess. Candles make everything feel like we're dining in another epoch and we inevitably have an extraordinary evening."

Marie-Laure: "I have always wanted to be an actress, but my life led me in other directions, and I'm very happy it did, but I have never forgotten that yearning. Recently I started taking acting classes and from time to time I have minor parts in minor productions. My most extraordinary experiences have been when I 'play' the role of an extra in a film. I have no words and perhaps one sees me for a second -- or not at all -- but I melt into the story of the film. It's particularly exciting when I'm in costume from another century and I become someone else completely. I believe for those moments."

Claudie: "Ever since I was a child I wanted to be an artist, but my father told me I didn't have talent and that it was essential I learn a metier. I did everything he told me to do because he made me believe I could never realize my dream. Three years ago I decided to take painting lessons and from the instant I picked up a brush my life changed. I don't know whether I have talent, but I do know it's my great luxury and my grand bonheur (happiness)."

My second luxury wish: flower arranging lessons from fleuriste, Gilles Pothier.

Anne-Charlotte: "There's nothing I love more than wandering around my garden -- winter, fall, spring and summer -- cutting flowers, berries and leaves to make bouquets which I place all over the house. Even in the winter I have bushes with red berries and tiny white flowers. Occasionally I'll buy a few blossoms from the florist to mix in with what I find chez moi. I love my house filled with flowers. I collect vases from flea markets, boutiques, wherever I travel so so my arrangements are never the same, that's what makes it so much fun for me. And I always have a tiny bouquet next to my bed in a vase my daughter made for me."

Ava: "One day, just one day, I would like to be pampered in a thalasso theraphy spa. Of course I'd like a week, but I don't want to be greedy." (Just click on thalasso theraphy and you'll understand. . .)

Marie-Louise: "I would like a complete makeover: new haircut, a makeup lesson, manicure, pedicure. And since I'm already in an 'institute de beaute' for my new look, why not a massage?"

Elise: I'm living my dream and for the first time, in a very long time, I feel safe and secure. Because by nature I worry, this new feeling is a true luxury for me.

What Is Luxury? Part I

2011-12-12T12:15:00.003+01:00

A weekly delivery of a Christian Tortu bouquet in a vase of his design (of course). Pure luxury, n'cest-ce pas?

Donnez moi votre definition du luxe s'il vous plaît.

Is it an accumulation of the most expensive things money can buy? Perhaps. Sometimes. Not always. Never? Or, does it have a completely new meaning these days.

Since the morale of almost everyone, on both sides of the Atlantic, seems to be at an all time low I thought it would be interesting, maybe even edifying, to pose that simple question: "Please give me your definition of luxury."

I asked 20 French women between the ages of 40 and 80 what the word -- the concept -- of luxury means to them. My sole caveats were:

1.) Try to think of something you could actually have or experience (as opposed to a 28 carat pink diamond ring from Cartier for example).

2.) Puh-leese do not get too ostentatiously philosophical.

Et merci par avance, of course.

You will see there was one obstinate exception to the rules of my game.

Here is Part I of what they told me:

How about "French Impressions" by one of my best friends? It's a luxury that keeps on giving. It's beautiful on a coffee table as an objet and it's filled with historical tidbits and decorating ideas.

Jacqueline: "Something unexpected; something I hadn't even thought of desiring like a friend giving me a book she is certain I will love; a bouquet of flowers from my husband for no reason -- just because.

Edith: "For me luxury corresponds to a certain concept of chic I have in my head. I've worn Shalimar perfume for as long as I can remember and recently I discovered Guerlain makes Shalimar in a bath gel. Now I use it every day. When I step out of the shower I'm enveloped, caressed by a cloud of my favorite fragrance. It makes me happy for the rest of the day."

Caroline: "A simple, delicious dinner with a good wine chez nous with close friends."

Sophie: "Dinner in a little restaurant tete-a-tete with my husband. It's romantic and I don't have to cook."

Christine: "An aroma therapy massage; or one hour just for me when I can do anything I wish."

Christel: "I know this is probably a fantasy, but it's my luxury: I would like to live without anything; just the bare necessities of life, to be satisfied with very little and not constantly wish for more 'things'. Someday I hope to arrive at that place."

Christine-Marie: "Jogging for an hour, alone, by the sea."

Claudine: "I am happiest sitting in my salon with the sun streaming in the windows thinking about how lucky I am to be living my life. You call that cocooning don't you? Yes, that's what I love."

Patricia: "I just bought a huge bath towel made with bamboo fibers. It's incredibly soft and more absorbent than any towel I have ever owned. It is pure luxury."

Danielle: "Dinner with George Clooney." (Not to disillusion her or anything, but on the outside chance he's booked on the night she's free I suggested she give me a second choice. She demurred.)

And my luxury? Always knowing there is a bottle of chilled Champagne at the ready for unexpected moments of chagrin, consolation or celebration.

Do tell: What is your definition of luxury? No rules apply.

Next Week Or La Semaine Prochaine

2011-12-11T14:49:00.000+01:00

Lots of surprises -- you know what that means -- on both sides of this blog. A vague line-up will look something like this:

1.) Going public in an alien world. (An alien world for me that is.) You'll see.

2.) Either the "Blahs" or the "Blues" and how French women conquer them -- without food I might add.

3.) Theoretically the gift I had planned for last week will come through this week. The details are not in my hands. If they were, all would be well. I'm on it though.

4.) Shopping in the country.

And then, as I said, more surprises.

It's getting very cold here, sun making a timid showing, but at least it's not raining. Oh, if it would only snow.

A demain my dear, dear amis.

A Weekend In The Country

2011-12-10T13:02:00.001+01:00

The adorable Babette decorating her irresistible boutique, Côté Rue, for the holidays.

Weather report: Rain has gone away, sun shining in all its splendor, temperatures chilly/crisp.

I hope you're having a lovely weekend. A demain mes cherest amis.

It Looks Better In Real Life

2011-12-09T08:15:00.001+01:00

When I first saw this Gerard Darel jacket, for lack of a better word: I hated it. Actually, as I look at it now, I think it's dreadful.

I'm not a patchwork kinda girl, I can appreciate the time, work and dedication that go into such projects, but mostly I don't like it. Or, let's equivocate, I haven't seen an interpretation that appeals to me.

Then, last week in Paris I saw a young woman bounding across the street against the traffic wearing the above mentioned jacket with jeans, a gray turtleneck sweater, a tobacco colored school satchel bag and navy ballerinas. She looked adorable.

If I hadn't been driving at the time, I would have leapt out and asked for a photo op.

In the spirit of something is better than nothing, today's post is short. The reason: I have scores of errands to run. Among them, we will be choosing our Christmas tree. Joy to the world!

The Great Reveal. . .

2011-12-08T13:43:00.001+01:00

After much urging and pressure -- particularly from my daughter -- here is a picture of me for our Faces Through The Ages series. Charlotte doesn't look particularly happy to be in the shot and Macha gave us a withering look and left the room.

Admittedly it's not a close-up, but until we solve the problems with my exceedingly unattractive eye allergies this will have to do. Have new meds so I have new hope. I'll ask my extremely annoying daughter to take a picture of me during the holidays when I shall, no matter what, be wearing eye makeup again.

Now I'm off to wrap and pack gifts to send to the States in the hope they will arrive in time.

What Is Glamour?

2011-12-07T13:36:00.003+01:00

The magic aura that radiates around those who possess that irresistible quality: GLAMOUR.

The subject of glamour came out of a recent conversation with my first and best American friend who lives in Paris. Our telephone exchanges, according to our Reasons-For-Living-In-France, are long, confusing, non-sensical and, oh yes, long.

They may believe our chats are non-sensical, but that is only because unlike the two of us, they are not blessed with monkey brains. We start a normal conversation in which a word triggers a different thought and we veer off in another direction and on and on it goes. I'll spare you the details and the detours.

In the midst of one of our digressions the other day, she said to me, "You know the word 'glamour' is absolutely verboten in the world of magazines these days, in fact you have to be careful even using it in conversation."

"What are you talking about?" said I.

Christine Lagarde, president of the International Monetary Fund.

Then I argued glamour has nothing to do with bling and bad taste, glamour is exciting, fascinating, and is not related to the economy or money or status or any of those dreaded topics that can lead friends into real arguments.

"I know, I know, I agree with you," she said. "I think of glamour as something out of the 30s or maybe even the 50s." And off we went on that tangent.

Meanwhile, I think of glamour as something entirely different -- epoch-less and ageless, but rare. It has a sensuousness to it, but is never, ever vulgar. Difficult to describe, but easy to recognize.

French journalist and author, Catherine Nay, is exceedingly glamourous.

Let's begin with the Webster's Encyclopedic Unabridged Dictionary definition (we might as well start with the lexicology experts, n'est-ce pas?): Glamour -- "the quality of fascinating, alluring, or attracting, esp. by a combination of charm and good looks." And, "magic or enchantment. . ."

There we have it, another one of those "I know it when I see it," qualities. It seems to me a glamourous woman (or man for that matter) has a star-dusted aura about them, but I can think of few celebrities today I would call glamourous. Maybe it's because I think glamour also entails mystery and we know waaaaay too much about celebrities.

Talk about too much information.

Also, God-given beauty for me does not equal glamour. I think Catherine Deneuve for example is beautiful, I don't find her particularly glamourous. (I'm sure many of you disagree.) My best French girlfriend said a couple of days ago that Deneuve was glamourous, but she has lost the magic.

Dame Helen Mirren

On the contrary, Helen Mirren didn't have it when she was young and now she definitely oozes glamour.

IMF president, Christine Lagarde has it plus those who know her rave about her wickedly irresistible cocktail of charm, intelligence and humor.

Ed. Note: If you were here for yesterday's party post, you may remember that although what I was wearing was completely me, it didn't exactly fit the bill for the one detail on the invitation I clearly missed. Apparently the invite said "formal." What can I say? I missed it.

However, had I seen it I would have worn either of the above pictured Carolina Herrera numbers.

I would have changed my earrings to the above and added just the tinest lift to my red ballet flats, because a girl needs a little ooomph under a long gown, but she also needs to be steady on her feet after a couple of coupes of champagne.

Some Enchanted Evening

2011-12-06T08:30:00.006+01:00

Bouquets of ecru peonies are a specialty of Stephane Chapelle.

Ooooh-la-la! A party! A fete! A celebration!

I ask you: What is more fun than getting all dressed up with someplace to go!? Exactement.

And, of course, we are not on the guest list of just any old mundane holiday soirée. No indeed. We were lucky enough to snag the (engraved) invitation of the season -- Marsha pulled a few strings as she is wont to do -- and Tina agreed to open the doors to her dee-vine maison for an evening of what I think we all agree will probably go down in party history alongside major events created by the late Baroness Marie-Hélène de Rothschild.

A little background for those of you coming late to our monthly "By Invitation Only" party** founded by the above mentioned Marsha, whom you may also know as Spenderosa. We are given an "assignment" if you will and we are to interpret said challenge as we see fit. This month is right up my allée: We are to don our finest togs (and explain what they are, from head to toe) and select a gift for our hostess.

Alas, if only this were not a virtual gala. . . However, 'tis the season to exercise our limitless imaginations, n'est-ce pas?

For a moment I considered going out of character for my wardrobe, but ultimately decided: I am who I am; it is what it is. I cannot go the frou-frou route even exceptionnellement, even when I have a slight, tingly urge to do so. To help me pull myself together I turned to my extremely talented great, great amie Jeanne-Aelia Desparmet-Hart who drew me in my outfit, which consists of:

Red pleated satin ballerinas.

Large red charmeuse evening pants from the extinct Compagnie de Chine. (Fortunately I have them in every imaginable color.)

Long Valentino black cashmere V-neck sweater.

Purple minaudiere from Gucci.

Gold cuffs with cabochon rubies.

Diamond and coral (they're far enough away from the rubies that the combo works) teardrop earrings.

Et voila. Simple.

Now the details become slightly more complicated: the hostess gift. In my case it will be a two-part French classic. Let me explain. . .

At precisely 11 a.m., the day before the party, a massive bouquet of ecru peonies from the hottest, most branché fleuriste in all of Paris, Stephane Chapelle, will be delivered to Tina's door. (One never brings flowers to a party.)

So that you know he is worthy of our hostess, Chapelle apprenticed with the famous Christian Tortu and he supplies all the arrangements for the magnificent rue Cambon apartment of Coco Chanel.

You may be wondering how I plan to pull this off? A piece of gateau, mes chers amis. The blooms will be transported from Paris to New York by my best friend who has a time share in the above pictured Lear jet. Her chauffeur will then deliver them directly to our hostess.

On the evening of the party I shall bring with me chocolates from the hottest, most branché chocolatier, in all of Paris, Jacques Genin. Since we are nombreux, I shall choose the box of 144 squares of perhaps the most deliriously sensuous chocolate one has ever experienced. Some critics are calling Genin "a genius" who has "re-mastered" the metier.

How much more chic can one get when it comes to packaging? The matte "silver" metal monogrammed box is too, too elegant. Talk about l'art de vivre (and once opened, la joie de vivre. . .)

I love to give exquisite chocolates because the host and hostess open them with coffee and share with their guests.

**If you are looking for more details and who will be attending THE party of the season (albeit virtual), do visit Marsha, she will direct you to what the guests are wearing and what they're carrying.

What's For Petit Déjeuner?

2011-12-05T11:30:00.002+01:00

Pomegranate juice -- the magic elixir.

I spend an inordinate amount of time observing French women, trying to decrypt their tricks for dieting, dressing, accessorizing and putting up with their husbands. If I can't learn by watching; I resort to asking.

Today's exercise is another one of my completely unscientific surveys about what they eat for breakfast. My sample group, as the polling experts say, includes women from the ages of 40 to 65. I presume it's not necessary to say this, but. . . all are on a weight spectrum of normal to haricot vert or string bean.

Nutritionists agree breakfast is our most important meal. Right? We all know this. But who takes the time to eat properly every morning? Most French women. Eh, oui.

Claire (my nutritionist remember?) says if we skip petit déjeuner we will probably never be thin like every-single-solitary-Frenchwoman-I-see every-single-day. She didn't actually put it that way, she merely repeated her mantra: "You have to eat not to be fat."

This is what my subjects told me they eat for breakfast:

Sophie: "Fresh squeezed orange juice; tea no sugar or milk -- like all the women who drink tea for breakfast -- four slices of toasted cereal bread with homemade strawberry jam. I never put butter on my bread."

Christine: "At least a liter of tea; and All Bran cereal with chocolate bits and soy milk."

Caroline: This my favorite. . ." Three Prince cookies dipped in a glass of milk." (Prince cookies are what my daughter and her friends ate after school. I didn't realize until Caroline said they're her every day breakfast with her children, that the biscuit part of the cookies are made with cereal and milk. Then, of course there's that little kick of chocolate icing on the inside.)

Cristelle: "Fresh squeezed orange juice and a cappuccino which I take back to bed with me. A half-hour later when I finally get out of bed I eat a whole orange; two Krisp Rolls with nothing on them; a plain yogurt with jam mixed in; two squares of chocolate and another cappuccino."

(It seems only appropriate to mention, Cristelle is in her 40's, tall, slender and hilariously funny which has nothing to do with her first meal of the day, but I thought she was joking. She assures me she was not. She also claims she grazes throughout the day, but I have my doubts.)

Patricia: "Earl Grey tea; two pieces of cereal bread with 'lite' butter; a plain yogurt mixed with muesli, no sugar."

Marie-Christine: "Tea on week days, coffee on the weekends; two slices of toasted baguette, no butter, with homemade cherry jam."

Danielle: "Tea; two or three Swedish flat breads with butter and orange marmalade; orange juice I buy in a bottle and one plain yogurt without sugar."

Anne-Françoise: "A huge bowl of cafe au lait I make by dissolving instant coffee in skim milk and heating the whole thing in the microwave; a plain yogurt and maybe later an apple."

Annie: "Tea; orange juice I do not squeeze myself; one-third of a baguette toasted with butter and homemade marmalade."

Eva: Black coffee with honey and a tall glass of effervescent vitamin C with calcium (from the pharmacy) and then around 11 I start looking for a baguette."

Lydia:" Tea; carrot juice; and a quarter of a baguette with 'lite' butter."

Françoise: "Tea; one hard-boiled egg; one piece of whole wheat toast with honey and a clementine."

Jacqueline: "Pomegranate juice; tea and a third or a half a baguette with Nutella -- just a thin coating -- chocolate and hazel nuts are full of nutrients."

Marie-Louise: "Two kiwis, a very large black coffee and one plain yogurt, no sugar."

Croissants and pains au chocolat are saved for occasional weekend splurges or vacations, they rarely appear in an everyday breakfast and omelettes are never part of the morning repertoire; they are lunch or occasionally evening meals.

Next Week Or La Semaine Prochaine

2011-12-04T14:05:00.000+01:00

The week will be full of surprises, plus our monthly By Invitation Only collaboration on Tuesday. This month we're getting all dressed up and going to a party!

More on the calendar:

1.) What Frenchwomen eat for breakfast. (And, what shocks them about what some of us consume first thing in the morning.)

2.) How Frenchwomen beat the blues.

3.) News & Views

The rest of the week -- more treats, maybe literally if my contact comes through as promised. Are you intrigued?

Ed. Note: As for our continuing series on "Faces Through the Ages" I've decided -- and I hope you won't be disappointed (if you are, please tell me) -- to start off the new year with your stories. We'll have at least two days of women in their 30s and, of course, the rest of us. Therefore you can still send in your picture and your story: tishjett@yahoo.com

A demain mes trés, trés, chers amis.

A Weekend In The Country

2011-12-03T14:48:00.001+01:00

Mine are prettier, frothier. You'll see.

By taste and temperament, I'm a minimalist. (Usually.)

One couldn't say that my holiday decorations are simple necessarily, but they are never a riot of color. I most definitely appreciate that approach chez mes amis, but not chez nous. Our tree is decorated with white lights only, silver and clear glass balls and then our family collection of objects from all over the world are mixed in to break the decorator/decorator ambiance and help us recall wonderful memories.

Oh, yes, nothing blinks -- ever, unless something short circuits.

Our decoration in general (I'm veering off subject for a moment), with one exception, our tiny library, is a "riot" of beige on beige on beige thus permitting the addition of accessories of color (or not) as the spirit moves.

More on the subject next weekend, but this is what I have planned for the front porch.

1.) Paint the doors -- an annual holiday ritual -- to repair the dog scratches.

(I know, I know, they are the sweetest, most well-behaved girls, but somehow we have never been able to drill this discipline into their heads.)

2.) White pansies are already planted in the boxes.

3.) Extra wood in a large basket for quick access to keep the fireplace softly glowing through the evening.

4.) Plain pine wreaths strung with tiny battery operated white bee lights. This is a first, we'll see how that works out. I've never woven lights into wreaths before and I still must figure out how to hide the box with the batteries.

A demain for the weekly line-up.

Making a Merry (Homemade) Christmas

2011-12-02T08:15:00.006+01:00

"The only gift is a portion of thyself."**

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Ralph's right. A portion of our own selves -- our hearts, our thoughts, our time -- is the best gift of all.

I have always enjoyed giving a bit of myself by making gifts for those I love, whether it was a scarf or pair of socks hand-knit with luxurious yarn or a throw pillow with a panel of cross-stitch embroidery. But as I've gotten older, my leisure time has become more limited and thus more precious -- can you relate? -- and yet, of course, the sentiment and desire to give of myself through handmade gifts remain.

Here is how I'm managing the dilemma this year. The holidays are still more than three weeks away, which is enough time to fiddle around in the kitchen for a couple of hours and make some wonderful gifts that are a pleasure to give and receive. Each gift is tasteful (and in some cases, tastes good), simple and reasonably inexpensive to create, and can be made in multiples. Included are links for instructions and suggested sources; of course, a quick Google search will yield more results that you can shake a candlestick at.

Speaking of candlesticks:

Tapers and pillar candles made from rolled beeswax sheets are so elegant, and recipients always put them to use on special occasions. I order my beeswax honeycomb sheets from Knorr Beeswax, but there are many other online sources. And did I mention how utterly simple they are to make?

Now, into the kitchen.

Marinated chèvre in a hermetic glass jar ... a blend of Provencal herbs, garlic, and olive oil, poured over medallions of soft-ripened goat cheese.

What about vanilla beans steeped in vodka or rum for homemade vanilla extract? Whether for sweet or savory dishes, vanilla extract is utterly indispensable for anyone who ever sets pied in the kitchen.

Don't put that vodka bottle away just yet. You'll need it for making moonshine: homemade Kahlua.

Or maybe your lucky recipient would prefer Irish Cream that you've made your very own self? (Yes, you can do that! Bailey's hasn't cornered the market.)

Decant into pretty glass flasks, and you're golden.

Joyeux Noël! Joyeuse Hannoucah! Bonne année!

** Today's post was written by my divine, darling, wonderful friend Marsi.

My definition of DIY (Do It Yourself) has always been: "Of course, you can do it yourself, because I don't know how to do anything. Wish I did, but I certainly am a lucky girl to have a friend like you."

Marsi may have changed my mind. Merci cherie.

Eat, Drink and Be Wary

2011-12-01T12:15:00.001+01:00

Foie gras.

French women are masters of dissimulation. When you're at a dinner party with them you actually think they're eating as much as you are. They never are.

Yes, yes it's the oft-repeated portion control bit and all things in moderation, etc. But what's so amazing is they actually seem to be having a grand time with only one flute of champagne. Go figure.

With all the holidays coming up I thought I would get us psychologically prepared to have more fun with less food. Claire (my nutritionist) insists we must never say "non" to pleasure. O.K., works for me.

If we train ourselves to think like French women life is a constant battle of desire over discipline and seemingly the formula equals pleasure. (Little secret: I think it makes French women exceptionnellement happy to be slim and the mere idea has some kind of chemical appetite suppressant effect. I may be wrong.)

Let's say we decide to eat one slender slice of fois gras, the size of a deck of cards with about 30 cards left in the pack, it will take: a one-and-a-half hour stroll; a fast one-hour walk or an intense exercise like my aqua gym class of 30 to 40 minutes to burn it off. Calories are approximately, 250 per oz. of which 220 are from fat, but from good fat (!)

A significant problem: One cannot eat foie gras unless it sits upon something, like a piece of toast normally, i.e. more calories.

Now, who can have foie gras without champagne? (For those of you who think I don't know about Sauternes and how in it is to drink with foie gras, I do know. I hate Sauternes and it has about 30 more calories than champagne. Besides bubbles are festive.)

The world famous Chateau d'Yquem Sauternes. Not for the budget minded.

As I was saying, a flute of champagne -- brut obviously -- pictured above, has between 120 to 140 calories (20 calories per oz.) using the above formula for the foie gras, it would take about half as much exercise to burn off the golden liquid.

If I haven't potentially ruined your holidays, may I suggest you treat them the way a Frenchwoman would. Indulge within reason and make up for any disturbing variations on the scale in January. January is a rather depressing month anyway. You might as well go with the flow.

Top 10: The Things I Steal

2011-11-30T11:30:00.002+01:00

The beauty of my thievery is not only the fact I'm not obliged to be armed and dangerous, but also I don't have to apply makeup or leave home to pull-off the heist.

The unpleasant part of the crime is I am sometimes caught in the act or prior to the robbery I ask permission to take something that doesn't belong to me. Big mistake. After many years of doing this, I've found stealth and subterfuge are the best methods.

Have a good alibi. Do any necessary explaining after the fact if you get caught.

You may be a far better person than I and wouldn't dream of such undercover tactics, in that case, let me say right this minute: I admire you for your honesty, but honestly sometimes it wastes so much time whining and begging when you want instant gratification that you no longer want what you wanted. (Are you with me?)

I steal what I like from drawers and closets. Nuance: They are not my drawers or closets. I pilfer from My-Reason-for-Living-in-France. If he says something like: "Have you seen my navy blue cashmere V-neck sweater?" I will reply, "Just a second, let me look for it." Then I produce the sweater. (You see, I don't lie even though I steal.)

Here then is some of my favorite loot. . .

TOP 10: Things I Steal

Charvet cuff-links

1.) Cuff-links: The silk braided ones in a variety of colors from Charvet and a pair of Art Deco onyx and mother-of-pearl with a tiny diamond in the center -- love those. I'm actually considering coming right out and asking if I could please turn one of them into a pair of earrings -- both sides are onyx, mother-of-pearl and diamond. (Now you're asking yourself, what will he do with one cuff link? I need more time to think about this.)

2.) Silk pochettes: I put them in the pockets of my jackets and on occasion twist a couple together to make a scarf necklace.

3.) Neckties: Used as belts. He has 75,000 ties and wears only two of them so it's not as if this is a capital crime.

4.) Above mentioned V-neck sweaters.

5.) His watch. This I admit is verrrrry tricky and requires my highly developed persuasion skills. Even someone as clever as I cannot just rip-off a Cartier Tank watch. I confess I've failed on occasion.

6.) Chanel Monsieur cologne. Since I smell just like he does, it's hard for him to notice whether it's me or him.

7.) A blue/gray cashmere scarf. It's the only one he owns, given to him by me before I knew he didn't wear scarves. He would give it to me if I asked.

8.) His pleated front tuxedo shirt. We have the same length arms -- 34 inches.

9.) Linen handkerchiefs. Love handkerchiefs period, but men's are the best.

10.) Burlington argyle socks. He has them in every imaginable color combo -- thanks to me, I might add -- which I sometimes wear with my moccasins in the winter.

Et voilà.