Having my cousin in town was exactly what I needed. Familiar faces, family and New York accents. He arrived at my doorstep Friday night with flip flips on, gel in hair and backpack on back. "Cousin Ella!!!" he said jovially with his arms stretched out. It was exactly what I needed after feeling beat up by the week. I love my cousin.
Sébastien and I took him and his friend Irish Paul out for drinks at one of my favorite bars in town, Les Etages where we were settled in on their teeny tiny chairs made for miniature people with no body fat while Mile Davis' "Kind of Blue" played in the background. "What can I do to get on your blog?" Paul asked in his thick Gallic accent. "Either do something really awesome or really fucked up. That seems to make the cut these days." I responded while slurping the house specialty; Maxi Banana Mojitos that are made with freshly sliced bananas. Exhausted from a long day and Paul and Vinny wiped out from travel, we called it a night after one drink. On our way out, Paul gallantly picked up my heavy bag that placed on the floor and handed it to me. "Now can I get on your blog?" he asked with hopeful eyes. "See, I picked up your bag. That's nice, right?" Yes, it was nice. Paul, you are now on my blog.
Séb who has his cousin's tricked-out scooter, drove us back to his flat in Oberkampf. I must admit, I felt pretty tough on the large and sleek black scooter opposed to his usual charming mint green Vespa. Rolling into bed just after midnight, I woke up an hour later to the sound of my own fart. I farted in bed. I was, I am and always will be horrified. I turned to check if Séb was sleeping and unless he smiles in his sleep, he was definitely awake. To confirm, I asked him "Tu dors?" "Ouiiii." he replied with a chuckle. "If you're sleeping why are you responding?" I snapped. He started laughing and rolled over and looked at me. I knew it. He had heard my offense. We're so not ready for this! It's too soon!
"You heard me fart!" I screeched. "I'm so embarrassed!" I buried my face in the pillow in horror. "Three times. The first one was what woke me up!" he offered with a chuckle. Three times!? "El, it's no big deal. You had a Maxi Banana Mojito and you know bananas make you fart." Ahhhhh! "Stop! You're making it worse by explaining!" I said hoping that if I kept talking he would forget what had happened. If you plan on sleeping alone and don't have the metabolism of an infant, I highly recommend Les Etages' Banana Maxi Mojitos otherwise their normal maxi Mojitos will suffice. I'm so embarrassed...
Mortified by the fart incident, I was refreshed when I received an e-mail from some friends that are in town for Paris Fashion Week. Anything to distract me from last night's "events", I stopped by the Japanese design house Toga Archives where they are showing their Spring 2011 collection. Thriving from recent Lady Gaga action, the showroom was buzzing with the energy of new buyers wanting to sell the line and magazine editors wanting to feature it. It's a special moment for them. The collection is phenomenal, their best one yet. Yasuko, the designer told me that the inspiration is twin peaks meets 50's american housewife nightmare by way of Tokyo. Only in fashion, kids.
Because I have known the Toga ladies for several seasons now, they didn't mind me hanging out, drinking their coffee and loitering around the showroom during their buyer's appointments. I told my Australian friend Milari who is also Toga's showroom model about what had happened as she was trying on a breathtaking gold chiffon, pleated, rhinestone Marilyn dress. "At least it wasn't a fanny fart! she tried to reassure me while twirling around in god's gift to fashion, "Don't worry!" She was trying to make me feel better and it sort of worked. At least I hadn't "Fanny Farted". Gross.
Happy Fashion Week, tout le monde.
