I'll start this post off by making an announcement that many of you are aware of, something us expats can't help but sharing with you all; it's been snowing all weekend in Paris and it has been absolutely magical! All cities are beautiful when they're sprinkled with snowflakes, and surely Paris is not an exception.
Aside from the snow, something else magical happened last weekend, something that has been long overdue, something I have been anticipating on for almost two years! No, I still haven't perfected the art of the effortlessly looking Parisian scarf knot.... What did happen was that my mother finally met the first installment of my future French in-laws!
When my mom informed me that she had another Paris trip, with the rush of the holidays long over, I insisted on a drive out to the country for lunch to meet my new family. The idea of us waiting until our wedding day that is looming, for them to all meet seemed a little strange. Can you imagine it? "Hi, nice to meet you, we're family now!" Too weird. There was no other way than to organize a meeting.
My disco shower-owning, British rock-loving, theme party-throwing, costume enthusiast future father-in-law Gilles and his second wife Françoise aren't what you'd call your typical French in-laws. Françoise can usually be found clad in head-to-toe leopard print, waist-cinching belts and thigh-high boots. Her big red hair is always perfectly Bardot coiffed and a menthol Vogue cigarette is never too far from her reach. Gilles who documents his daily outfits on Facebook and has been toying with the idea to start outfit blog has a penchant for vintage collectibles, vinyl records and photography coffee table books portraying naked woman. Just to give you an idea...
In a rented limited edition bright orange Saxo car that was designed by the folks at Bic Pen, the three of us with our to-go Starbucks lattes and muffins, set out on a mini road trip to Fontainebleau to meet the parents. "It looks just like Olympia!" my said comparing the capital of Washington to the French countryside, before adding, "but you know, more French!" And with her declaration, she snapped a photo with her digital camera à la Marissa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny.
With the slippery roads, we arrived later than expected, and pulled into the driveway to find Gilles and Françoise peeking out the window waiting for us. My mother took as a cue to shout "Bonjour" ...to her closed window. Trotting through the snow in her leggings and Uggs, Gilles and Françoise who were now in the yard got attacked with hugs and bonjours from my mother. To thank them for hosting us, she offered them a bottle of champagne and a tin box of that read Americana Chocolata, filled with milk chocolates in the shape of American monuments like the Liberty Bell and Mount Rushmore.
Françoise and Gilles took my mother on full tour of the house, something that I have found to be somewhat of an expectation here in France when invited into someone's home. While it does happen in the States, it's certainly not obligatory. We bopped from room to room, with my mother's voice resonating and bouncing off the walls of their cottage. I was waiting to hear her response on Françoise's nudie self-portraits in the bedroom, but I didn't. After a long flight when she's not wearing her glasses, her vision is blurry and she unfortunately missed out on the coquettish photo shoot of Françoise prancing naked in the garden that we had just walked through.
It wasn't until they showed my mom their costume room that my mom understood that this was going to be a unique visit. Françoise pulled out a beaded beige lace shoulder shrug before confessing to my mother that she wears it around the house without a top. My mother gave her an affirming "You go girl! You wild thing, you!" and wiggled her hips. This ended up turning into the theme for the rest of the afternoon. Several moments throughout the meal, my mom went from a Long Island mother to finger snapping sista encouraging Françoise to do her thang. So embarrassing.
Halfway through lunch and several bottles of wine later, my mother urgently needed to share something with Gilles and Françoise who were taking a mid-meal smoke break in the living room. My mother and brought along a manilla envelope she retrieved from her purse. The mysterious envelope contained photos of me as child on Brighton Beach in Coney Island....topless. She claims it was a coincidence that I appear half-naked in most of the photos, something I'm sure would be illegal today. To be perfectly honest, the photos were not at all cute. I look constipated in a handful of them. I hated the beach as a kid and would retaliate by pouting...apparently topless.
Unfortunately this wasn't the only embarrassing photo moment we encountered. My mom likes to share photos of our house. Second to looking at over a hundred photos of your co-workers vacation with their friends whom you've never met, I couldn't think of something more boring than flipping through a ton of photos of someone's house. Unless the house was designed by like Frank Lloyd Wright. Handing over the camera to Françoise and Gilles to allow them freely flip (or rather skip) through the photos, they came across a photo of me and my brother. "He is quite handsome," they said nodding in approval at the photo, "You two look a lot alike!"
That is something that I have never heard...in my entire life. My brother and I look nothing alike and we've have often accused my mother of adopting him and or having an affair with some blonde viking - that's just how different he looks from us. With my curiosity piqued, I leaned over the table to see the photo in question. Much to my horror they weren't looking at a picture of me and my brother. They were looking at a picture of me and the dark hair and dark eyed MF - my first French fiancé. Merde! Suddenly my mother's two-snaps up routine was less embarrassing. And I wanted nothing more than to go back to that. My mom still doesn't know how to transfer photos onto her computer or delete photos, despite the step by step PowerPoint presentation I made for her.
Moving on from the unexpected presence of MF and before diving in the cheese course we all dispersed to different corners of the house. Françoise and I looked through her extensive costume jewelry collection, Séb was outside shoveling a path from the front door to the driveway, and my mom was helping Gilles tidy up in the kitchen.
Or so we thought.
When we all heard a loud scream in the kitchen, we learned that those two were up to something else. We walked in to find my mother hovering over Gilles with an ice cube and a needle. "What are you doing?" I asked, completely confused with the scene. "Oh, the hole in Gilles left ear closed up, so I'm just re-piercing it." my mother responded with a smile before going back to work and easing the needle through his ear. Normal. But really, why wouldn't my mother be piercing the ear of my future father-in-law on their first meeting?
After Séb and I presented our parents with their invitations to the wedding, over maccarons and pink crément, we discussed the actual details of our upcoming wedding. After talking it out with our parents who even after several glasses of wine had a very clear vision on how it would all work out, it occurred to me that I was being silly to stress out about the costs. Everyone is going to help out as much as they can, and we're not trying to pass off our simple albeit lovely and creative wedding as it was a grand black tie gala. Once everything was on paper and the costs divided up, it felt manageable and I'm sure we're going to put something really special together.
The first meeting of the parents well swimmingly well (piercings and ex-fiance photos and all). I can only now imagine the mayhem that will ensue at the the actual wedding. I really can't wait, this is going to be good....
