![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Lafayette! We are here!
Jun. 18th, 2011 08:38 pmThe line ran through my head as Galina and I walked into the Galeries Lafayette on Blvd Haussman behind the Opéra Gautier, but I put it quickly out of my mind as I followed Galina into the main part of the store. What aided in that coming-into-the-here-and-now process was the growing realization, sinking in as I wandered the aisles with Galina, that if prices in Paris in general are crazy high, the prices at the Galeries Lafayetter are insane.
But I jump ahead of myself.
The day started with me sitting down to continue a job due essentially COB Monday, French time. After processing about 1200 words, I figured if I didn't get out of the house now, right now, I wouldn't get out at all, and I had so wanted to go visit a rumored open air flea market of stamp dealers that takes place on the weekends. So, Galina and I set off for the Rue Gabriel, just a stroll away. The rain that started en route did not help.
We found the philatelists with very little trouble, and the first one I stopped at made the same, um, mistake that a colleague of his made some three and a half decades ago, when I visited Paris for the first time. The fellow today used whatever subtle clues he derived from my appearance to conclude that I was not a "real" customer, and should not be permitted to paw through his more expensive offerings (and okay, a top price that I saw of €130 ain't cheap, but it's not exactly Rodeo Drive, either). So when he tried to confine my interest to a box of pretty (and cheap) commemoratives of recent vintage, I brushed him off and gave in to a juvenile urge by asking if he had or knew of anyone with a specimen of a "Yvert 5e" for sale (referring to a French stamp catalog and the stamp's catalog number), and I followed up my question by describing the stamp, in case he needed reminding, i.e., a 40-centime orange Ceres, issued in 1850, where the "4" of "40" was retouched, as it had been originally printed as a "2".
It's a fairly pricey stamp, but I didn't really stick around for an answer, as I was afraid he might actually have one, and then I'd feel bound to look at it, despite the fact I was now reluctant to give the fellow the time of day (which I could not do anyway, as it's been years since I've regularly worn a watch, but I digress... but you get the idea, I'm sure).
The rest of the dealers had some interesting items, but nothing I couldn't live without. Somewhere along the line, Galina took a picture.
From Ave Gabriel, we walked back to the Blvd Haussman and took a bus to the Ste Trinité church, from which it's a short walk to the Galeries Lafayette. The interior of the store is pretty impressive.
On the way home, we stopped at another department store, Le Printemps (Spring), where Galina managed to take one shot of the following goodies before being told that "it was forbidden to take pictures of the pastry."
Somewhere, perhaps in the Lebowitz book, the explanation given for this sort of prohibition is that it is intended to prevent the theft of trade secrets.
Give me a break, okay?
If I were to buy one of these breathtakingly lovely cakes, would the proprieters feel obligated to mash it into an unrecognizable mass and then adulterate it with other ingredients before allowing me to take it home? (I mean, if they didn't, I could not only take pictures of the thing once I was alone in a room with it, I could vivisect it and make it yield all of its internal secrets!)
Still, those cakes are lovely, aren't they?
Once home, I whittled what was left to work on down to some manageable quantity—I may do some more before hitting the sack—but right about now, I need to turn to and pack. The train for points south leaves tomorrow, and we plan to be on it.
Cheers...
But I jump ahead of myself.
The day started with me sitting down to continue a job due essentially COB Monday, French time. After processing about 1200 words, I figured if I didn't get out of the house now, right now, I wouldn't get out at all, and I had so wanted to go visit a rumored open air flea market of stamp dealers that takes place on the weekends. So, Galina and I set off for the Rue Gabriel, just a stroll away. The rain that started en route did not help.
We found the philatelists with very little trouble, and the first one I stopped at made the same, um, mistake that a colleague of his made some three and a half decades ago, when I visited Paris for the first time. The fellow today used whatever subtle clues he derived from my appearance to conclude that I was not a "real" customer, and should not be permitted to paw through his more expensive offerings (and okay, a top price that I saw of €130 ain't cheap, but it's not exactly Rodeo Drive, either). So when he tried to confine my interest to a box of pretty (and cheap) commemoratives of recent vintage, I brushed him off and gave in to a juvenile urge by asking if he had or knew of anyone with a specimen of a "Yvert 5e" for sale (referring to a French stamp catalog and the stamp's catalog number), and I followed up my question by describing the stamp, in case he needed reminding, i.e., a 40-centime orange Ceres, issued in 1850, where the "4" of "40" was retouched, as it had been originally printed as a "2".
It's a fairly pricey stamp, but I didn't really stick around for an answer, as I was afraid he might actually have one, and then I'd feel bound to look at it, despite the fact I was now reluctant to give the fellow the time of day (which I could not do anyway, as it's been years since I've regularly worn a watch, but I digress... but you get the idea, I'm sure).
The rest of the dealers had some interesting items, but nothing I couldn't live without. Somewhere along the line, Galina took a picture.
From Ave Gabriel, we walked back to the Blvd Haussman and took a bus to the Ste Trinité church, from which it's a short walk to the Galeries Lafayette. The interior of the store is pretty impressive.
On the way home, we stopped at another department store, Le Printemps (Spring), where Galina managed to take one shot of the following goodies before being told that "it was forbidden to take pictures of the pastry."
Somewhere, perhaps in the Lebowitz book, the explanation given for this sort of prohibition is that it is intended to prevent the theft of trade secrets.
Give me a break, okay?
If I were to buy one of these breathtakingly lovely cakes, would the proprieters feel obligated to mash it into an unrecognizable mass and then adulterate it with other ingredients before allowing me to take it home? (I mean, if they didn't, I could not only take pictures of the thing once I was alone in a room with it, I could vivisect it and make it yield all of its internal secrets!)
Still, those cakes are lovely, aren't they?
Once home, I whittled what was left to work on down to some manageable quantity—I may do some more before hitting the sack—but right about now, I need to turn to and pack. The train for points south leaves tomorrow, and we plan to be on it.
Cheers...
