Day 125: Buy Your Grandmother Panties.

My mother got into Paris for work this morning and being a professional traveler extraordinaire, she was hardly effected by jetlag and was ready to eat by 11am. Bonnes nouvelles because I was famished. Meeting her at her hotel where I know everyone because she comes to Paris fairly often, I was in the lounge chatting with the hotel staff when she came down. "You smell!" she said as she hugged me. I lifted my armpit and in fact she was right. I did smell. I had just purchased "Coco Glacé" deodorant without anti-perspirant and my armpits did not smell like iced coconut, they smelled like métro (Line 8 at Opéra to be exact). "I'll leave my Degree with you because ugh, you smell just awful!" Normally I disagree with her but she was absolutely right. While I normally buy my toothpaste and deodorant in the States, because I like the harsh chemicals we use to shock our system into smelling good, I forgot to do this before I left and so French hygiene products were all what was available to me. Sorry French hygiene products, you kind of suck.
For lunch, I took Momma Coquine to one of my favorite places in Paris for an omelet au formage and a glass of red, Un Zebre à Montmartre in (surprise!) Montmartre. The weather being absolutely gorgeous, we sat outside and enjoyed the early Paris autumn weather. Although I see my mom fairly frequently here, I always stop everything to spend time with her. She is so much fun to be with in Paris!
After a leisure lunch, leisure because it took us an hour to get the check because the server was taking sexy photos of herself on her boyfriend's scooter with her iphone, my mom announced that we had an errand to do. She pulled out a ziplock bag filled with my grandmother's "unmentionables" as she calls them and in normal talk; underwear. "Your grandmother only likes French panties, so we have to pick her up a few pairs before Vincent's wedding." she said as if that wasn't slightly disturbing. Sensing my reluctance my mother added, "You speak French, so explain to the girl why we have used panties in a bag." she said while signing the check. "Mom, it sounds just as creepy in French as it does in English. Speaking French doesn't exempt me from the sleaziness of walking into a boutique with used panties in a bag." I said with a cringe. "They're clean! Just do it, it's for your grandmotha." Well obviously I was going to do it. In my family, I have no choice no matter where I am.
We went to Princess Tam Tam and I approached the salesgirl with the ziplock and explained that we were looking for this exact cut, size and color. She was nice but I could feel that she thought it was a little weird. Who wouldn't think it was weird?! "Go try them on, Ella!" my mother instructed as she waved the neglige in her hand. "Mom, Grandma is like 80 pounds. I don't want to see my fat bulging out of teeny tiny panties that would fit a Barbie doll. Plus, eww." I pleaded. "Well if they don't fit, I'm going to have your grandmotha Skype you. She knows how to do that now." my mother threatened. The salesgirl took this as her queue to give us a minute and proceeded to pretend to organize things but was basically touching everything and doing nothing. When I worked at Anthropolgie when I was 18, they used to make us do that too when there was nothing to do. I hated that. Why couldn't I just look bored?