A Hipster’s Guide To Paris - driftyland

I’ve been to Paris three times, and I still feel like I don’t know her.

But man, can she swing.

 


Woody Allen-Esque

“The evening before, sitting in the bar area of the Parisian hostel, the memory of him rushing through the closing doors played over and over. 

Swigging a glass of cheap red wine, I attempted to explain to my co-worker, Jasmin, how I knew Marion, an explanation immediately followed with –

“You’re going to stay at her house… and you haven’t seen her in fifteen years?”

Read More: Woody Allen-esque | My First Time In Paris

 


Été à Antony

“It was in 2014, while I was visiting my friend Marion, her husband Laurent, and their petit bébé, Lou.

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It was my last day there. Marion and I were sitting on her balcony in Antony, and she was smoking a cigarette. Smoke bellowed out of her perfectly lipsticked mouth, as she said, with her immaculate French accent:

“Melissa, for you, I want a beautiful love story. A fairy tale.”

READ MORE: Été à Antony | A Beautiful Love Story


Crisp Apples

“As I walked down Avenue Gustave, I gazed up at the tower lovingly, as most cliche tourists do. Holding up my phone, I gesture to my companion.

“Let me take a picture of you,” I say.

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As I’ll realize in a later visit to the city, I always seem to be struggling with romantic endeavors when I’m here.”

READ MORE: Crisp Apples | My Second Visit To Paris


 

Very, Very

“Oh, so you don’t dance?” I hear someone say.

I look besides me, and there’s the shortest man I’ve ever seen in real life. He looks expectant, and if I’m guessing correctly, about 80 years old.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” I apologize.

He scoffs, in the way that only the French seem to be able to.

“Come, come.”

READ MORE: Very, Very | My Last Visit To Paris


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