Tuesday, February 27, 2018
Tying my Shoes, French Style
February 27th, 2018
I ordered a pair of shoes, and they arrived with the laces laced in the typical menswear style of parallel lines (sometimes called "straight European"), but with a twist: the bow was in the middle. Not sure if it was a mistake, but I like it! (Some menswear experts will advise tucking in the bow after tying the shoe, which is more difficult with the bow in the middle, but I'm not that much of a dandy.)
Now, we're off to the great Frozen North, aka Swedish Lapland, for some cross-country skiing and Northern Lights spotting, we hope.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Clothes at the Louvre
February 26th, 2018
I paid another visit to the Louvre this past week with Shannon and family. I passed by "Winged Victory of Samothrace," as I always do, and admired the breath-taking sculpture. I paused for a few minutes, pondering how the artist created such movement and ethereality out of a block of unmoving and quite non-ethereal stone. Her garment, pieces of fabric draped across her body held by the ceaseless winds, was the key. How the folds were rendered, how the texture of the fabric was suggested, how it pulled back towards the outstretched wings---all of those things were crucial to the illusion of movement.
So, taking the sculpture as my inspiration, I decided to embark on a close inspection of how the garments were rendered in various paintings. For such a close study, I needed to focus on a small number of paintings, so I chose one location, the Grand Galerie, which houses Renaissance paintings. I paid attention to the technical aspects---the brushstrokes, colors, and shading. I also tried to understand, though, how the clothes in the paintings suggested movement or statis, how they implied rank or class or relationships among the subjects. Obviously, the types of fabrics and ornamentation and colors would have symbolic meaning to the audiences for these Renaissance paintings. Other times, they spoke volumes about the class or personality of the wearer.
So, taking the sculpture as my inspiration, I decided to embark on a close inspection of how the garments were rendered in various paintings. For such a close study, I needed to focus on a small number of paintings, so I chose one location, the Grand Galerie, which houses Renaissance paintings. I paid attention to the technical aspects---the brushstrokes, colors, and shading. I also tried to understand, though, how the clothes in the paintings suggested movement or statis, how they implied rank or class or relationships among the subjects. Obviously, the types of fabrics and ornamentation and colors would have symbolic meaning to the audiences for these Renaissance paintings. Other times, they spoke volumes about the class or personality of the wearer.  |
| I don't think it's a coincidence that the hair of the guy on the right is indistinguishable from his fur coat. |
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| The light plays off and shines through her top layer. |
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| What opulence |
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| Compare the aggression and strength suggested here by the stiffness of the fabric with the softness and serenity in the painting below. |
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| I love the billows . . . |
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| . . . and the pleats . . . |
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| . . . and the ornamentation . . . |
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| . . . and the colors. |
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| The colors here are so striking, especially the blue of her sleeve and collar. |
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| The colors and textures here look so contemporary to me. |
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| The detail in the pleats and folds and lace is amazing. |
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Jack
February 25th, 2018
Among our visitors this past week was my nephew Jack. He is one of the finest exemplars of the phrase "two-year-old," with all of its various connotations and shades of meaning.
Here he is at lunch at Ellsworth, another great restaurant find (courtesy of Derek). My glasses, by the way.
Among our visitors this past week was my nephew Jack. He is one of the finest exemplars of the phrase "two-year-old," with all of its various connotations and shades of meaning.
Here he is at lunch at Ellsworth, another great restaurant find (courtesy of Derek). My glasses, by the way.
More Visitors, More Museums!
February 25th, 2018
This past week has been a busy one (hence the lack of posts). My sister Shannon and her family were visiting. It was great to have them here. Of course we used their visit as an excuse to go to some of our favorite restaurants (Tavline, Louisa Maria, Verjus), stop by our favorite tourist sites (Louvre, Musee de Moyen Age), and check out a new museum (Musee des Arts et Metiers, finally!). And drink a lot of good wine.
The Musee des Arts et Metiers was a really interesting place. I'm not sure if I've ever been in a museum quite like that, but it had elements similar to the Air and Space Museum at the Smithsonian, Chicago's Science and Industry Museum, and Harvard's Peabody Museum on Oxford Street. It certainly had the old-school, wood-and-glass-cases vibe that the Peabody Museum has, but its focus was industrial and scientific instruments and machines. In particular, it was a celebration of French scientific and industrial innovation. (Glenn called it the "I Didn't Realize the French Invented Everything" Museum.) It had instruments dating back to the Renaissance and before, such as elaborate hand-blown thermometers, intricate brass astrolabes, and Pascal's calculating machine. It had a lot of machines from the Industrial Age, such as programmable looms and printing machines and steam engines. It had a recreation of Lavoisier's lab with many of the original instruments from it. (He had apparently been a wealthy man who hired the best craftsmen and instrument-builders from Europe to outfit his lab.) It had an extensive transportation section which included many early airplanes and automobiles. One interesting aspect of the museum is that it was partially housed in a church that had been commandeered by the Republicans during the Revolution and never returned. They wanted it to stand as a monument to scientific discovery, which it is still today. A Foucault's Pendulum hung from the ceiling of the nave.
I found the exhibits very interesting and informative, but I also loved the aesthetic of the place. Here is some of what I saw:
This past week has been a busy one (hence the lack of posts). My sister Shannon and her family were visiting. It was great to have them here. Of course we used their visit as an excuse to go to some of our favorite restaurants (Tavline, Louisa Maria, Verjus), stop by our favorite tourist sites (Louvre, Musee de Moyen Age), and check out a new museum (Musee des Arts et Metiers, finally!). And drink a lot of good wine.
The Musee des Arts et Metiers was a really interesting place. I'm not sure if I've ever been in a museum quite like that, but it had elements similar to the Air and Space Museum at the Smithsonian, Chicago's Science and Industry Museum, and Harvard's Peabody Museum on Oxford Street. It certainly had the old-school, wood-and-glass-cases vibe that the Peabody Museum has, but its focus was industrial and scientific instruments and machines. In particular, it was a celebration of French scientific and industrial innovation. (Glenn called it the "I Didn't Realize the French Invented Everything" Museum.) It had instruments dating back to the Renaissance and before, such as elaborate hand-blown thermometers, intricate brass astrolabes, and Pascal's calculating machine. It had a lot of machines from the Industrial Age, such as programmable looms and printing machines and steam engines. It had a recreation of Lavoisier's lab with many of the original instruments from it. (He had apparently been a wealthy man who hired the best craftsmen and instrument-builders from Europe to outfit his lab.) It had an extensive transportation section which included many early airplanes and automobiles. One interesting aspect of the museum is that it was partially housed in a church that had been commandeered by the Republicans during the Revolution and never returned. They wanted it to stand as a monument to scientific discovery, which it is still today. A Foucault's Pendulum hung from the ceiling of the nave.
I found the exhibits very interesting and informative, but I also loved the aesthetic of the place. Here is some of what I saw:
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| Pascal's Calculating Machine |
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| Lavoisier's Lab |
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| Inlay on a one of dozens of wooden display cabinets |
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| Shannon and Jack |
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| An Early Airplane |
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| Early Gasoline-powered Vehicles |
Friday, February 16, 2018
Titre de Sejour
February 16th, 2018
We dodged a bullet on Tuesday. Finally, after many appointments and forms and lines and months of waiting, Glenn was to report to the Prefecture de Police on the Ile de la Cite to receive his Titre de Sejour. This is the card that allows him to be here for the year. My appointment is next week, but Glenn wanted me to come along on his appointment just in case there were language issues I might be able to help with.
We arrived at the prefecture at the appointed time, and there was an airport-style security screening. We waited in a short line until we were at the front. As is our custom, I had made iced tea for both of us that morning, and we were carrying our iced teas in large insulated cups. (This is not a very French thing to do, by the way.) The security screeners didn't know what to make of our iced teas. I told them what there were, and one took off the lid and peered inside. Puzzled, he decided that they should go through the x-ray machine with the bags and coats. He put them in a plastic bin, standing up, and put the bin on the conveyor belt. The heavy flaps covering the opening of the machine knocked the iced teas over, of course. I tried to explain: Ils sont tombes. But they were already in the machine and I guess there wasn't anything to do. Well, my iced tea didn't have a very secure lid and iced tea spilled all over the conveyor belt, the inside of the machine, and the floor. The screeners were flustered, running around looking for paper towels and trying to figure out what to do. By this time, what was left of our iced teas had emerged out of the other side of the machine. Glenn and I looked at each other, grabbed the cups, and decided to take advantage of the chaos to just continue on our way, before anyone decided to start yelling at us or to throw us out of the country permanently. We proceeded to the appropriate room, and Glenn was issued his Titre de Sejour.
I will not be taking a drink with me next week for my appointment. In addition, I'm wondering whether a disguise of some type would be warranted.
(Update: I avoided recognition and managed to obtain my Titre de Sejour as well---see below.)
We dodged a bullet on Tuesday. Finally, after many appointments and forms and lines and months of waiting, Glenn was to report to the Prefecture de Police on the Ile de la Cite to receive his Titre de Sejour. This is the card that allows him to be here for the year. My appointment is next week, but Glenn wanted me to come along on his appointment just in case there were language issues I might be able to help with.
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| Iced tea |
We arrived at the prefecture at the appointed time, and there was an airport-style security screening. We waited in a short line until we were at the front. As is our custom, I had made iced tea for both of us that morning, and we were carrying our iced teas in large insulated cups. (This is not a very French thing to do, by the way.) The security screeners didn't know what to make of our iced teas. I told them what there were, and one took off the lid and peered inside. Puzzled, he decided that they should go through the x-ray machine with the bags and coats. He put them in a plastic bin, standing up, and put the bin on the conveyor belt. The heavy flaps covering the opening of the machine knocked the iced teas over, of course. I tried to explain: Ils sont tombes. But they were already in the machine and I guess there wasn't anything to do. Well, my iced tea didn't have a very secure lid and iced tea spilled all over the conveyor belt, the inside of the machine, and the floor. The screeners were flustered, running around looking for paper towels and trying to figure out what to do. By this time, what was left of our iced teas had emerged out of the other side of the machine. Glenn and I looked at each other, grabbed the cups, and decided to take advantage of the chaos to just continue on our way, before anyone decided to start yelling at us or to throw us out of the country permanently. We proceeded to the appropriate room, and Glenn was issued his Titre de Sejour.
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| Glenn, flaunting his Titre de Sejour |
I will not be taking a drink with me next week for my appointment. In addition, I'm wondering whether a disguise of some type would be warranted.
(Update: I avoided recognition and managed to obtain my Titre de Sejour as well---see below.)
Thursday, February 15, 2018
The Curious Case of the Missing Mousse
February 15th, 2018
The leading suspect in my mind is a contractor who was working in the apartment on the ground floor of our building. He had pulled his car into the courtyard while he was there working, and he and the car were gone when we noticed the tub missing. Also, the tub would have been heavy and unwieldy to carry on foot.
I spent all Saturday morning running around town shopping for the evening. We were having a few people over, and I was trying to stop at all of my favorite markets and shops to get the best bread, pastries, cheese, rillettes, charcuterie, vegetables, olives, etc. I decided that I would serve lemon tarts and chocolate mousse for dessert, so I headed over to Chapon, a chocolate shop that specializes in mousse.
https://www.chocolat-chapon.com/
In fact, they have a mousse bar with five different types of mousse, all single-origin, that you can taste and purchase in any quantity. I tasted all of them, and they were surprisingly distinct: some fruitier, some more floral, one with a strong caramel flavor, another maltier. I chose one made from Trinitario cacao from Ecuador and got a large bowl of it. I finished up my shopping, picking up some tartes au citron from La Parisienne, and heading up to the fromager on Rue de Seine to get some Comte and brebis romarin.
When I arrived back at the apartment, I realized that our refrigerator could not handle all of my purchases. No problem. We have a large plastic tub upstairs. I can bring that down and put all of the excess food in it and leave it in the courtyard. Saturday was a good temperature for food storage, a little above freezing.
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| I left the tub just to the left of the spigot, under the window. |
I don't think Glenn actually said anything, but I'm pretty sure he was thinking, "Is that safe?" Sure, I mentally responded, the restaurant in our building gets food deliveries all of the time in the courtyard, where boxes of fruits, vegetables, seafood, drinks, etc., sometimes sit for quite a while until they bring them in. And, plus, the courtyard is locked. It's not always locked and I'm sure a lot of people know the code to get in, but a random passerby would typically not have access to our courtyard.
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| Normally-locked gates |
As you might have guessed by now, the answer to Glenn's unspoken question was "No." About an hour before the party, Glenn asked something about where I had put the tub when I brought it in. "It's still out there." "No, it's not." I ran out, frantic, looking everywhere. I went around the block, to see if it had just been moved for some reason. I went to the restaurant and asked whether they had brought it in, mistaking it for one of their deliveries. Nothing. Glenn was dispatched to closer stores to buy some replacement mousse and cheese. (He did an excellent job, but the mousse from Monoprix was not the same.)
The topic did come up in conversation that evening. Our guests were shocked: "But you live in the 6th!" "It must be an inside job." "Why would anyone want that much mousse?"
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| Diagram of crime scene |
He has not been back, but I am wondering what I might say to him if I saw him again. Maybe "La mousse au chocolat---etait-ce delicieuse?"
(Update: The contractor dared to show his face in the courtyard this past weekend. I saw him and took this photo at the right of his car as he was leaving. Realistically, I don't think there's much I can do with the photo, but I hope I scared him by taking it.)
(Update: The contractor dared to show his face in the courtyard this past weekend. I saw him and took this photo at the right of his car as he was leaving. Realistically, I don't think there's much I can do with the photo, but I hope I scared him by taking it.)
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