The San Francisco Ballet in Paris

Opening Night 

of the 

San Francisco Ballet, Paris

A Cinderella moment in Paris occurred last night; down tumbled my stiff Burberry uniform as I slipped into my little black velvet dress - a €5 steal from Rue de la Verriere. And with a newfound taste for (fleeting) opulence my date and I dropped all allegiance to the bohemian haunts of Canal St Martin for a twirl in the fairytale that a night at the ballet so often is. 

Our taxi left us at the foot of the glamorous red staircase of Theatre du Chatelet for the opening night of the San Francisco Ballet's tenth anniversary gala within Les Etes de la Danse. We were celebrating this milestone by watching 10 short works from a range of well-renowned choreographers like Alexei Ratmansky and Christopher Wheeldon led by artistic director Helgi Tomasson.

 The entrance hall was quite the spectacle; there were aristocratic ladies dripping in sapphires juxtaposed with denim-clad ballet lovers clutching standing tickets. We were ushered up to the bar behind the balcony and juggled champagne and programs. The Theatre du Chatelet is absolutely magnificent, it truly rivals the opera houses of Vienna with the opulence of the decor - even the stage curtain is a veritable masterpiece. We were so lucky to have a pair of central seats at the the front of the dress circle, which gave us panoramic views of the architecture (but made no allowances for whispering during the performance).

During the interval we wandered out onto the exterior balcony to delight in the romance of the Seine, which lay looking rather ethereal under the blanket of rain. And after a couple more tipples we were ready to descend into the second half of the performance, which we deemed to be far superior to the first. 

The array of contrasting costumes was exquisite, varying from contemporary interpretations of leather street wear to classic tutus and romantic pink florals. However, it was the simplicity of the bare chested dancer - a true Apollo - and the simple flesh leotard of his female partner in our favourite piece, which made it all the more impactful. 

Our charming new friend, the British - but New York-based - choreographer Christoper Wheeldon (above) was the creator of this deeply moving piece. His talent for choreography truly left the audience utterly entranced as we watched the pair move together in poetic harmony. There was also an underlying sense of breathless sensuality in their movements as he guided her fragile limbs like a rag doll, but lifted her like one would assemble the broken pieces of a shell. It was a perfect blend of contemporary dance and classical ballet. By the end if the piece I found myself moved to tears for so many reasons, I felt I had been swept into the depths their love affair and was not ready to let go.

 It is so rare now - as a member of generation 'instant gratification' - to have one's attention held without a moment of distraction, but I was utterly bewitched by this physical display of raw emotion. I have to admit that it was almost rather traumatic meeting the ballerina at the after party and seeing that she was in fact another chirpy young American dancer rather than the melancholy, empassioned creature that I had just watched in motion. The final piece of the show presented seemingly infinite lines of ballerinas twirling in classic white, diamond encrusted tutus and it was a feast for the eyes.

Fortunately for us the standing ovation was not the end, for we were soon to be ushered up to the elusive after party on the hidden rooftop terrace of the theatre. It was an achingly glamorous affair with waify ballerinas drifting between statuesque choreographers and well dressed supporters. My date and I wandered through batallions of dashing waiters offering indulgences like chocolate strawberries, pistachio panna cotta and cherry macaroons before finding the bar for yet more champagne. 

The rooftop balcony cast in a delicate fushia light was what made the evening so unforgettable; to been folding shirts in a stockroom hours before and now to be perched above the twinkling lights of the Seine was a fairy tale. It was also such a joy to be able to talk to all the ballerinas and hear about their magical experiences whilst touring as well as the mental and physical  challenges of their profession.

As the audience we forget the effort, the crippling physical stress they put themselves under to become these graceful creatures, which infatuate us with such ease. Whats more they were all our around our age, which made it so inspiring thinking how much they have already achieved so much in their chosen field. It was the most beautiful of evenings and so much thanks goes to Marina de Brantes (above with Bernadette Chirac), President of Les Etes de la Danse for having us! And now, to cross the bridge back to reality...

Ghent, Belgium

One fabulous day in
Ghent, Belgium

I had no idea what awaited me when I boarded the train from Paris du Nord to the elusive Ghent, Belgium. But, I left feeling I had discovered a hidden gem in this eclectic city. Despite being so close to Brussels, this charming little haven is relatively untouched by tourism and instead pulses with the creative energy of a thousand Shoreditch studios.

 It is the perfect blend of the hipster paradise of Williamsburg, Brooklyn and the architecture and history you’d find in somewhere like Amsterdam. As soon as you step onto the tram from the rather grim station into the town, it feels like hopping on a ride at Disneyland and watching this magic world go by.

The young and beautiful Flemish citizens drift on their bicycles between render vous at organic Coffee Roasters or the buzzing conceptual community space Vooruit. And for the old souls, the record shops like the quirky Music Mania and digging for vintage treasures at Think Twice will empty your pockets with just as much ease.

 Without question, the main attraction for me was my darling friend Lio’s seventies dreamscape of an apartment. Upon entering my new home I fell head over heels in love with the record collection tumbling over the shag rug, the Klimt prints, the rails of vintage treasures and most importantly her perfectly house-trained grey bunny Janine who roams wild and free.

The fact that my teeny Parisian nest is more than double the rent of her palatial apartment really makes me question the infatuation of big city life over the intimate community of a place like Ghent.

Throughout my short, but sweet 24h stay we touched down in all of the aforementioned hotspots as well as visiting the classical MSK Museum of Fine Arts, where we peeked in on the restoration of the city’s pride and joy; Jan Van Eyck’s The Lamb of God - whose reproduction we saw the next morning in the magnificent St Baafs cathedral.

 Thankfully, we were blessed with an afternoon of sunshine and so wandering there through the citadelpark and perching on charming pastel pink benches with a Yogy frozen yogurt was such a pleasure. And the following afternoon in the ethereal setting of the hazy rain, it was fascinating to see the artist Leo Coper’s piece The Museum Project.  The piece comprises a series of granite tombstones representing an international selection of museums and commenting on the ‘museumalisation’ of tranquil graveyards.

A little deeper in the park is the S.M.A.K gallery; an uber-contemporary art collection juxtaposing the classicism of the neighbouring MSK. The German photographer Thomas Ruff’s opulent portraits - in the form of negatives- of Indian gentlemen in traditional dress made up for the horror of the questionable mountains of flour, lid-less pens and random bread rolls strewn across the floor.

As evening drew near, we cooked a fabulous spread with ingredients from the temptingly abundant vegetable shop whilst spinning around to Roxy Music and the Stones on the record player (and trying not to trample the bunny). But it was not all play, because the primary reason for my visit was working with the up and coming photographer Athos Burez - the suspected lovechild of Tim Walker and Juergen Teller. 

This imaginative shoot was to take place in flower fields lit by moonlight and I was to be the subject of his dreamy compositions. Our little team of his manager, assistant and I drove out into the Flemish countryside at 11pm in search of fields of flowers in which to toss the smoke bombs and begin the frolicking. It felt rather like a Lana Del Rey ballad, cruising down the motorway wrapped in a leopard print rug over my bubblegum dress - with a glittery hula hoop on my lap. I haven't seen the final shots yet, but here is some of his past work to give a taster..

Unfortunately earlier hail storms even meant our silent wandering through the fields in search of polychromatic floral heaven was all in vein and so we found ourselves driving back and jumping the fence of the Botanical gardens as a back up plan - it was all very Alice in Wonderland.

 The setting really did feel like a scene from John Keat's Bright Star as we wandered the gardens at midnight, searching for petals under the haze of passing rain. Sadly there was a lack of colour, but Athos managed to adjust his vision for the shoot and I found myself entwined in wet leaves and vines, having to bear the odd frog (hopefully) tickling my toes. When they thrust a mug of wine into my hands to help with the cold, I knew I wouldn't be moving anytime soon. 

  

After a successful couple of hours, we climbed back over the fence and - after a quick stop to remove thorns from my legs - we found ourselves at an intimate gathering of Ghent’s beautiful creatures in an art space Governement, where the textured wooded walls, exposed pipes and lone light bulbs transported me back to boogying in Brooklyn.

We then bounced over to the quirky club/bar Cafe Video, where everyone seemed to have congregated to dance to the DJ’s eclectic taste in music whilst spilling onto the banks of thecanal at dawn. A perfect end to a perfect day. I couldn't recommend Ghent more. It is an electric feast of culture, ready to be devoured.

Paris VIII

The Perfect Saturday in Paris 

11am-5am

11am Paris 1900, Le Petit Palais

M and I began our whirlwind saturday by wandering from the tranquil setting of the rose gardens of Le Petit Palais to the buzz of the hotly anticipated Paris 1900 exhibition; a time - we are reminded - where electricity was the least of the magic on offer.  The first room, which took our fancy was Le Myth de la Parisienne. The cultural explosion, the liberation of the classes, the wild hedonism can all be perceived as you are immersed in a blend of film, posters and frivolous paintings. Social changes are highlighted by the way the lower classes are just as involved in fashion as the aristocratic women. 

 The first room, which took our fancy was Le Myth de la Parisienne. The cultural explosion, the liberation of the classes, the wild hedonism can all be perceived as you are immersed in a blend of film, posters, sculpture and paintings.

We wanted to wrap ourselves in every piece of clothing, from the delicate, diaphanous lace to the flattering feminine silhouettes and the enthralling romance of the ethereal pieces. It made us look down at our dusty, black doc martins in utter despair. There are more swirls of romance in the images of beautiful girls in their 'robes aux dentelles' in Paris par La Nuit as they're swept off their feet by dashing gentlemen in elegant smoking jackets. You are taught that it was not only art, but the changing fashion that held the spotlight at the turn of the century.

M and I discussed how we found Paris par La Nuit the most captivating theme, because it was so refreshing to see the liberation of young wealthy Parisian women alongside bourgeois representations of les cocottes - the prostitutes - splashed across the iconic posters. Overall, Paris 1900 provided an interesting snapshot of the time, but sadly the curation was messy. The art was also unnecessarily crammed in resulting in overwhelming huddles of snap-happy tourists around each piece combined with many works being too high to properly inspect.

If it were me, I would have handpicked a smaller cross section of the work. Exceptionally overhyped, it was like the Le Petit Palais bypassed hiring a curator and simply emptied out their attic for public indulgence. I would really recommend that you go and see Bill Viola, Robert Mapplethorpe or Monumentaux at Grand Palais across the street first and if you STILL have energy after all three, then perhaps it's worth queuing for Paris 1900. The fashion in Le Myth de la Parisienne and the playful history of Les Cocottes in Paris par la nuit are the only stimulating sections.

1pm Josephine, Musee de Luxembourg

"Je sens que je n'étais pas née pour tant que de grandeur". 

M and I's dream girl the Empress Josephine was Napoleon's great love and eventually a popular Queen of Italy. She was known for her beauty, her graceful movements and her sympathetic personality. As with Marie Antoinette, she maintained a luxurious court whilst being a promoter of the arts; supporting growing textile industries as well as pursuing her passion for jewelry and it's intricate design. L'ancien regime was a fashion conscious time where the decorative arts were important and she was at the forefront. If I could live in the life of a historical figure for a day, it would be certainly be that of Josephine or Marie Antoinette.

As she famously said, "l'art et la botanique seront mes occupations." Hailing from Martinique, she also had a passion for travel and collected artistic, opulent pieces of art and furniture along the way. As a true polymath, she was equally infatuated by the botanical sciences and nature, which is fitting given that Pierre Paul Prud'hon painted her most famous portrait in the garden of Malmaison. But, sadly this blissful life was not to last, because her greatest fears were realised when Napoleon eventually abandoned his childless wife in favour of the fertile Marie Louise of Austria.

 

What makes this exhibition so magical is how truly immersed you feel in the life and loves of this iconic woman. With beautifully written descriptions for each area and piece, you feel carried through her life on a chariot of knowledge. Furthermore, what is so unique is the way that the Musee de Luxembourg goes beyond the endless portraits of Josephine by presenting a range of the possessions she surrounded herself with from intricately sewed lace dresses to her mesmerizing collections of diamonds and eccentricities from her opulent collections of tea sets to the exact ring she was given as a coronation gift.

 When you trace your finger across the legal record of her baptism, you know that the museum's attention to detail is near perfect. The ambience of the space is heavenly thanks to the muted grey of the walls and simple gold finish lining the ceiling, which let the colour palettes of the work speak for themselves. In contrast, at Versailles the day before, we had to piece together any past memories of films or literature on the subject of our heroine Marie Antoinette to understand the space, but at Musee de Luxembourg it felt effortless - you couldn't help but leave feeling like Josephine was an intimate friend. 

3pm Francois Huguier 

Pince-moi, je reve

Maison Europeenne de la Photographie 

Despite the weekend's horrific rainstorms, we naively thought we'd be terribly ambitious and smugly headed off the the grand Mosque of Paris for a more alternative dose of culture. However, as symptomatic of many cultural experiences in Paris, it was closed to visitors for nothing more than a random lunch break and we were quite honestly shooed out of there like rats in the subway. Not very friendly. So, we crossed the Seine to Le Marais for some bargain hunting in my beloved 1euro bins on the infamous Rue de la Verriere after a little more art. 

BUT, first we saw Francois Huguier's interpretation of un monde reve (a dream world) through an eclectic blend of quirky portraiture, hard-hitting photojournalism and travel photography at the fabulous Maison Europeene de la Photographie. 

From -40 in Siberia to +40 in Africa, her work is magical, but can only be adequately described by actually viewing the works. But, what is key to the retrospective is that she really involves herself in her subject's lives and you can sense that intimate connection in her portraits. We lovers of opulence also adored the building with its seemingly infinite twisting staircase and chandeliers. 

Katia Maciel's work also drew us in - especially relaxing beneath this projection. Pure escapism truly  comes from the temporal echoes she displays in her work. The beach may be simple, but it's effective - the water running along the floor makes you jump. I've learnt in Paris that I am always most peaceful when I sit in an art gallery surrounded by work and quietly ponder the visual experience. The paradox between the tranquility of sitting idle amongst the hard working art intensifies the atmosphere. Be it, the distant vibrations of music or absolute silence - there is no better place to let yourself slip into a hypnotic, deeper level of relaxation.

5pm Vintage in Le Marais

 

Anyone who knows me well will be all too aware of my endless collections of vintage velvet jackets, colourful fur coats and most recently a pair of red velvet dungarees (all of which i've picked up in Paris for a euro a piece). Beware that you'll have to eat your weetabix, because it is hard, manual labour sifting through all the boxes in the low lit back rooms (with frustrating blue filters to further reduce sight). But, as they say removing a sense, intensifies the others, so the trick is to search for the texture of the material before the outrageous pattern; velvet, velvet, velvet! 

Vintage Bar, 16 Rue de la Verriere

Frip-irium, 2 Rue de la Verriere

The King of Frip, 33 Rue de Sicile

We then went on for frozen yogurt with coconut shavings at the Yogurt Factory behind the Pompidou and sheltered from the rain on a stoop, just savouring the moment. M and I lived together in New York and now that we find ourselves together in Paris once again, frozen yogurt is far more suitable for celebrations than a flute of champagne could ever be.

8pm Artazar party, 

83 Quai de Valmy

If you love flicking through coffee table art books or art magazines, Canal St Martin's Artazar will be your dream come true. They sell anything from dusty pink polaroid cameras, to Patti Smith's life work to swirling books of intricate patterns to sew from. I've often found myself sitting cross-legged, buried under copies of Wonderland, Lula and Polka finding hours of pleasure have ticked by. The wonder of Artazar is that like most other establishments lining the Canal it is also a community base and on thursday night they hosted a party with flowing rose for us all to enjoy. Despite the approaching storm, the ambience was so warm and friendly as everyone mingled; from the starving artists coming down from Belleville to the Bobos of Rue Beaurepaire. 

9pm Dinner at Café Pinson, 

28 Rue du Faubourg Poissonniere

Our navigation led us down Rue Paradis to the vegan dream, Cafe Pinson. This little hotspot is the sister of Le Marais' more casual cafe, but is less crowded and has an ever so sultry atmosphere during the evening. The counter is lined with tempting jars of fresh quinoa granola, vegan peach crumble and chocolate cakes, which make you want to forget about the creative approach to vegan main courses that you trekked there for.

 We were terribly well disciplined and shared a little rainbow salad and a soya omelette with grilled tomatoes and the most delicious lime salsa before diving into absolutely exquisite peach crumble and fresh strawberries with their homemade granola and soya yogurt. The food was out of this world, but the highlight was the fact that we were seat in a cosy wrap around sofa in the corner, where we could pull up our feet and eat by candlelight with our bowls in our laps. And, they don't charge you for extra bowls of sauce, tasting granola or even more yogurt - thank you! 

1130pm Canal drinks to Le Comptoir General 

My final night of living on Canal St Martin before moving to the stiffer quartier of St Germain was dreamy. M and I  bought bottles of red wine to perch opposite the colourful shopfronts of Antoine & Lilli. Despite the lack of sunshine, spirits were not dampened and an eclectic group of friends trickled in until there were about 16 of us lounging on the banks, ready to go for a dance and a rum punch at the ghetto museum/speakeasy Le Comptoir General.

If I could recommend one place to go in Paris, it would be this eclectic bar with its gardens, its attics and its curious maze of rooms where you can either sprawl across a velvet sofa, grabs some carribean food at a picnic table, dance in front of a juke box or even get your fro trimmed at the salon. There is no end to the madness and should you tire of the friend you arrived with the atmosphere is like that of a cosy house party, where everyone mingles with everyone, because only the truly curious, adventurous souls dare to enter. Fresh ginger juice cocktails or big bottles of mango punch are the top choice for watering down your nibbles.

2.30am Le Carmen, Pigalle

Again, I have already posted about this Rococo dream of a nightclub in Pigalle, but you absolutely must go, because there is no closer expeierence to have a house party in Versailles or disco-dancing through Buckingham Palace.