Just across the street from the LA landmark that is the Farmer’s Market, is a hidden away treasure that is more like a porthole to another continent- the old land, Europe, or more specifically, France. Once you step across the entry way, you’ll find yourself in the flea market in the south of Paris, Porte de Cligniancourt for example. When I lived in Paris a million years ago, I used to go there every week- I even bought my first striped shirt there, and knowing Vintage Weave was intended to feel like a market, I wore it, especially for the occasion- (that, and the fact that after clearing my pantry from food from 2006, the next natural step was to clean out my closet – so yes, if you know me and wants some clothes….anyway; at the bottom of the long pile sleeve was my sailor shirt* I hadn’t worn since I had my first child, at least! But let’s go back to Paris for a moment- for some people, and they know who they are, shopping at Vintage Weave would be like letting a kids loose in a candy store or a photographer at B&H…
If you don’t have the time, or if you live on the other side of the world (you might be really close to Paris though) check out Kathy’s blog– it’s not just an update of all the new (old) stuff that makes it to the store, it’s a funny blog to read, with touches of personal life and plenty of ideas for anyone with an affinity for design or antiquity or anything French, English, or you know what, it’s a blog to visit! and I might even have to copy this sign…I think it will go really well on the front door of my kid’s photography studio….I even know someone who will make it for me….hint hint.
But the weirdest thing, or maybe it’s not surprising, on the way back home, while driving through the Hollywood Hills, I felt a huge urge overcome me and I started chatting in French like a teenager on La Boom, fluently ( I understood everything I was saying..) I did most of the talking, well all of it, scaringly, to MYSELF…..and as I got hungrier and hungrier I had a terrible craving for a fresh baguette with Camembert cheese, a crunchy on the outside, warm on the inside…wait, it’s food we’re talking about here, so I had to stop at Trader Joe’s for a poor substitute, that you know what, it scratched the french itch.
Paris, Je t’aime, I miss you, and I hoep to be there soon, for a real Cafe au Lait et un croissant s’il vous plait! Garcon, l’addition, ou sont les toileets, elle es mon copin, j’adore la photographie, je prefere un pain au chocolt, NON! allo, c’set phillipe le Doux, bisous! a demain, voulez vous parler avec moi?