Street hooping

The waiter was particularly grumpy this morning at the cafe after aerobics class. We cheered him up, though, with the hoop I'd brought along, especially when one of the owner's mates volunteered to give it a try. There we were on rue de l'universite, showing off our hip moves with the hula hoop. It was so popular and such a blast to use this morning I've decided to order another one PLUS the training DVD from Hoopgirl. Look for us this summer on the quai!

Image realities

Yes, well, I always said you have to be careful who you pretend to be. And after all these years, it does look like I have become a petite dame bourgeoise du 7eme! This morning I strolled down rue Cler, post-church in my silk suit and heels, to sit with my usual coffee and croissant and people-watching at Tribeca, cellphone in hand. It was only after, on my way home, that I saw the image. With a newspaper and vegetables stashed in a leather bag slung over my shoulder, I was clutching a bag with pots of basil and parsley in one hand, and a bouquet of flowers in the other, the obligatory baguettes under my arm, looking at windows and stopping to chat first with a friend, then a vendor.

Not that I mind the image - but where will it end? Better polish that longterm vision, would much rather emulate those still-elegant 80-year-olds in the neighbourhood rather than the grey-haired hippie mommas. Ah, oui - meme si au fond je sentirai toujours non-conformiste...