|No one needs a poppy splashed black cashmere cardigan, but it is irresistible isn’t it? As for the red shoes, why not? If not, you already have your Jimmy Choo’s.|
Today is our eighth day in Paris, or as the French would say “une semaine” — by using French math: one week = eight days we have one more day to play before flying home tomorrow.
So what do you want to do? Last minute shopping; another museum; a combination people watching lunch break; tea and a decadent pastry (or the to die for chocolat chaud) chez Angelina ; one last out-of-this-world dinner — or all of the above. Why not, you’re in Paris after all? You can sleep when you get home.
|You will not regret buying the sweater. Trust me.|
It’s clear that my original goal of one week, whether seven or eight days, out of carry-on was too ambitious and when you think about it, not that much fun. Furthermore, you’ve been shopping so you need the extra space, n-est-ce pas?
You’ll have to pack for your return home tomorrow, but then you can turn right around and come back for another eight day week, except this time your wardrobe will be based on navy blue.
Take-off will be Tuesday. I realize it doesn’t make sense, but we live in la-la land in this space. It’s all fantasy, particularly when we tally up the price of the clothes and the jewels we have brought with us or acquired while here, but where’s the joie de vivre if we can’t pretend?