Le Poop

I finally figured out today why people come to Paris in the winter - to protect their shoes from the dog poop. I walked out the door this morning and CRUNCH. Luckily no harm done to my trusty Nikes as everything in Paris is currently frozen and snow covered. But I can only imagine the sidewalks in the hot summer sun. I know…I just gagged a little too. I find it utterly ridiculous that a city that prides itself on such fabulous foot art has no laws for picking up after your pooch. I am preparing to launch a city wide campaign. I will call it Choo-p Le Poop after my boy Jimmy. Yes “poop” is one of the few words that does translate. Unfortunately, or fortunately, it is not a word commonly used when ordering dinner.

I spent this morning learning about the exciting world of Luxury Retail Management. Professor Morisset taught us all about the history of the Neiman Marcus brand. He has apparently been a consultant in the luxury world for over 25 years and his best friend is the CEO of Louis Vuitton. I will be attaching my resume to the first assignment. He ended the class by passing out a long list of delicious luxury brands – think Prada, Fendi, Van Cleef, Dior – and told that us that we had to pick one to study over the course of the semester. Is this school or a field trip to the Short Hills Mall? I’m not gonna lie, this sure beats the launch of Saxonville Sausage’s new Bratwurst which I was forced to study last semester.

For those of you who read the Twilight books, I think the best way to describe my current Parisian state is that of a newborn vampire. My senses are in overdrive. The smells are richer, the sights more spectacular, the sounds more clear. I feel like I am experiencing so much for the very first time and I am much more aware of my surroundings. I could chalk this up to the fear that my mother instilled in me with her threat to make me wear a money belt while I was here. Needless to say I regressed to my former thirteen year old self when this subject was broached…imagine lots of eye rolling and “But mooOOOOOoom”s. While I continue to do the most embarrassingly touristy things, I refuse to wear a money belt as I have a new Navigo pass (i.e. monthly train ticket) and therefore consider myself to be one of the locals. I am happy to report that no one has yet tried to slice open the bottom of my bag to steal my passport and Euros. I truly hope that the stealers have some consideration for fashion and just outright mug me if they really want these things…a bright red Longchamp tote would be a terrible thing to waste.

I digress… As I was saying, I seem to have a new found appreciation for the little things. I find myself studying the people, the way that they behave and interact. We all know that Paris is for lovers and oh so romantic, but what exactly does that mean? I think I figured it out today. I watched (read: stared at) a couple on the metro this afternoon. The train was relatively empty, yet they jammed themselves into a tiny corner between a pole and the door. They were both wildly attractive in a natural, artsy, no fuss way. They held each other close and whispered softly into each other’s ear. They had no inhibitions. I almost felt like I was invading their privacy by watching. And yet to them it was as if there was no one else around. Its remarkable...Parisians have the ability to make even the filthy metro look beautiful and romantic.

I am off to my International Luxury Distribution class. Fingers crossed that they hand out free samples!