Storm clouds, stitches, and snips
Plus a 50% off deal on groovy Parisian totes!
Peter and I were reaching the end of the Robert Doisneau exhibit in the Musée Maillol when a great pounding began on the rooftops. Everyone gasped and all eyes shot from the photographs to the windows where hail was pelleting down from the heavens, Gatling-gun style. Once outside, we were shocked to find the pavement cobblestoned with Gobsmacker-sized ice pellets that shopkeepers with big brooms were trying to sweep away before anyone’s feet went out from under them. As the hail gradually melted, the streets raced with water, ankle deep, and cars sloshed through at a snail’s pace, like leisure boats of yesteryear upon the Seine. All I could think was, “What a shame Doisneau isn’t here to catch all this on film!
P.S. See the show. He’s famous for the kiss photo, below, but it’s his photographs of children that are the most arresting and memorable. Doisneau was orphaned at a young age in WW2 and remained transfixed by the innocence, inventiveness and mischief-making of children his whole life. (Incidentally, the kiss photo is not in the exhibit. Well, it is actually, but in a sneaky way that you won’t notice until the very end.)
Over the past few weeks, I’ve heard the word “sloppy” used more than once to describe food in restaurants, and in each case by a serious cook or food professional. I know what they mean, because an I-really-could-care-less attitude isn’t something you can hide, whether we’re talking about a salad or the folding of a shirt. Some may presume others aren’t noticing, but everyone is. The trouble is that not enough people complain and demand better, and with every such apathetic resignation the bar gets lowered yet another rung.