senior citizen summer
my favorite restaurant in paris is... embarrassing
As measured by the frequency on my credit card statements, my favorite restaurant in paris is: pret-a-manger. Despite having gone maybe 3 times in new york city, the past two weeks have involved no less than 10 visits to my neighborhood pret.
My biggest gripe with paris is, in true kim k incredulity, that no one wants to work. My neighborhood cafe that I go to doesn’t open until 9am and not at all on sundays. A vintage shop that I had trekked to by a friend’s recommendation was for no reason at all, closed in the middle of the day, despite no mention of this on any form of social media. And most offensively, the entire city is devoid of fast casual restaurants.
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I arrived in paris at the beginning of the month with delusions of grandeur, a suitcase weighing 48lbs and two simple goals. One was to be creatively inspired: read, write, be creative, look at art. The other was to learn how to have a better relationship with leisure time.
From the outside in, I was a smashing success. I went to 4 different art museums, 2 galleries, finished 2 books, started vlogging again. I went to parties, spent long afternoons in public gardens, hosted 3 sets of visitors, browsed dozens of vintage shops and took only one day off work. You’re living your best life, charlotte texted me the other day.
My routine in paris looks something like this: start each day in a rush to do my morning tasks: go for a run or journal or grab an iced coffee (to go, obviously). If it’s a workday, grab something fast on the way to the office. If it’s the weekend, grab something quick while on the way to my second job: “doing things in paris”. Unless the meal was the main attraction of the day, eating was relegated to either an afterthought or an outright inconvenience.
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Two weeks ago, my friend R messaged me “don’t forget to paris while you’re in paris” alongside a meme of anthony bourdain sitting at a parisian cafe with his famous quote on paris. (Count on your friends to make fun of you and reorient your perspective at the same time).
It occurred to me that while paris may not have any fast casual restaurants, perhaps, I was the problem (!!!) I’m not sure what it is about sitting down alone at a restaurant for a long meal but it feels extremely indulgent, slightly naughty and very un-american.
The antithesis to a fast casual restaurant is the small outdoor cafe that I’d pass by on my morning runs along the seine. The metal chairs lining the river were filled exclusively with elderly parisians reading the paper or having a coffee and quite simply, enjoying their lives. It seemed that if anyone was doing paris right, it would be the city’s senior citizens.
Recently, I’ve noticed more and more content revolving around “living alone in X” or “solo date in Y” and a reorientation in what it means to have alone time. While I’m excited to see a shift towards dedicated self-care and intentional indulgence, I think we should allow ourselves to also be indulgent on a whim. A worthwhile occasion doesn’t have to mean taking yourself out to a friday night date that you spent 40 minutes getting ready for — it could just be having a long coffee on a sunny morning because you feel like it.
As I’m settling back into my new york life, one of my intentions is “not doing things” (™) and instead, enjoying what’s in front of me. It’s markedly harder when you’re in a 2 mile radius of 90% of your friends and everyone is declaring that it’s a socialite/brat/hot rodent summer. But I am reminded that as much as I love a pret chicken cesar wrap, nothing tastes sweeter than a coffee (to stay) on a free summer’s day.
To a senior citizen summer. ✦✦✦
This made me want to hop on a Eurostar and enjoy a slow morning coffee in a Parisian cafe 🥹
Love the way you write!! 🤍