SACRÉ COEUR AT SUNRISE

 

ON IMPRESSIONISM AND THE STUDY OF LIGHT

“Work at the same time on sky, water, branches, ground, keeping everything going on an equal basis... Don’t be afraid of putting on colour... Paint generously and unhesitatingly, for it is best not to lose the first impression. ”

— Camille Pissaro

The impressionists studied light - the way it falls, the way it illuminates, and even the way it hides and shadows. They studied a thing that is ever-changing the world around us. From the time the sun rises, to the time it sets, the light it gives off is subtly changing our environment. To capture these changes, impressionist painters worked outdoors, focusing on tone and colour at the expense of drawing and composition. 

Claude Monet knew that the light of the early morning was one of the most beautiful: haloing all those things it touches, and sending pink shivers into the sky.

Therefore, what could be more special than getting to see Paris at first light?

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ON SUNRISE AND PARIS

After listening nicely to my mother's worries about dodgy metro stations at 6:00 am, I flew out the door and onto a metro carriage (which was quite safe and full of commuters actually). The sun had not yet peeked out of her bed-covers, but I knew she would soon be waking and I wanted to be at the very tippy top of Sacré Coeur for that wonderful moment. 

Exiting the metro car, I hauled-ass up 200 or so stairs, then, urged on by a pink dawn ahead, I raced through the cobbled streets to the back of the Sacré Coeur. 

I cannot tell you how beautiful it was, seeing the day sweep over that pink and grey mass of Paris laid before my feet. 

Each small apartment was flecked with gold: the light from thousands of windows twinkling out into the darkness. And I could hear all the noises of a city preparing for the day ahead - dump trucks rumbling in the distance, and the clickety-clack of vendors opening their doors. A smell, of baking bread, wafted along from some nearby boulangerie. And I shared this scene with only a few pigeons and some bundled up travelers. 

Suddenly, flaring above the horizon, the sun graced the world with her presence. She sent her rays into the church too, casting shadows of colour and pattern on the stone walls from the windows. 

It was one of those times when I felt overwhelmed by the sheer wonder of it all.

LEFT BANK PARIS

THE FLÂNEUR

You know, French people have three words for walking (actually, I may be wrong here, they probably have way more than that, sadly I only know three).

The first word, marcher, describes the kind of walking that will get you from point 'a' to point 'b'. To walk this way is to make long, purposeful strides towards a designated point.

The second word is promener. Where to marcher is to walk with a destination in mind, to promener is to walk for the sake of walking itself. It is to enjoy the walk, and to ramble a little - possibly get a wee bit lost. The final destination is not as important as the journey itself. 

On a completely different level is the flâneur....

The flâneur, he turns walking into an art form, (trust the French!). The flâneur is the person who observes the way the light falls; the paving of a crooked street; the smell of bread leaking from the nearby bakery. He walks, hands in pockets, watching the crisp air in front of his mouth form into clouds...

MY PHILOSOPHICAL ROAMINGS

I think the difference between a promener and a flâneur is their perception of time.... A person can go out for a walk in the park with the simple aim of walking in itself, yet their mind can be elsewhere: they may be thinking of what is for dinner, or maybe going over yesterday's events, or even worse - they could be recapping that movie they saw last month. This person is hardly going to notice that the first buds are growing on the trees, or that the puffy white clouds are reflected in the puddles at their feet! In contrast, the flâneur is living in the moment, every moment. He or she is really living the walk. 

MEMORIES OF A FLÂNEUR

...ON THE LEFT BANK OF PARIS...

A crowd of eager faces around a busker and his piano accordion.

Three small dogs with red leashes vying to gain their owners attention.

Yellow tulips wrapped in paper.

The translucency of green grapes at a market, lit by the early morning sun.

The smell of bread still fresh from the boulangerie that morning.

A young woman feeding sparrows from the hollow of her palm.

The echo of my footsteps in the church of St Germain des Prés, and a moment of stillness as I contemplated the coloured shadows made by the stained glass. A feeling of being enveloped in silence. Shafts of light piercing the gloom in an unearthly manner, and revealing swirling dust motes.

Then a different kind of silence, and reverence, found while gazing at the Delacroix paintings in the church of St Sulpice.

The sweet perfection of a pastry creation from the nearby Pierre Hermé. A concoction of rum-soaked-cake and lemon cream, eaten on a freezing wooden bench.

Noticing that the bench was accumulating a small collection of stickers from the Pierre Hermé take home boxes. Feeling a sense of connection with the unseen strangers who had placed them there.

Walking in and out of small stone courtyards lined with topiaries, simply to see what was inside.

Enjoying the bleak winter sun in the Jardin du Luxembourg, and people watching. A circle of teenagers playing handball, and a man sitting in a green chair by the fountain.

Looking up at row upon row of fairy-lights, strung between close housing in the heart of the Latin Quarter.

Watching the light fail from a seat in a cafe, where I mopped up the remains of a particularly rich boeuf de bourguignon with the table bread.

PARIS TRIANGLE D'OR

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LÉCHE-VITRINE

/lɛʃ.vi.tʁin/

French phrase: translated as 'lick the windows'
Meaning: to go window shopping
Example: faire du lèche-vitrine

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The shop windows in the Triangle d'Or are astounding. Some are filled with scenes taken straight from my dreams: live butterflies flitting about in a forest of Hermes scarves; and giant dandelion puffs surrounding red cashmere sweaters.

These windows full of clothing have the passers by drooling just as much as those filled with chocolates and macarons. The French have made a real pastime of window shopping, calling it Léche Vitrine - to lick the windows.

I remember the first time I visited the Triangle d'Or. I was a pilgrim, on a break from my studies in fashion, accompanied by my very patient mother. I nearly cried when I had to leave behind the most sublime red coat in the Valentino store. 5,000 Euros for that slice of heaven, with its perfectly aligned seaming. I also spent an inordinate amount of time praying at the shrine of Chanel on the doorstep of 31 Rue Cambon, where the icon herself used to live and work in the apartment concealed above that famous mirrored staircase. 

Since that first time, I have made the pilgrimage out to the Triangle d'Or - that intersection of roads: Avenue Montaigne, Avenue George V and Rue Francois 1er - I have made that pilgrimage twice. And of course you can visit those well-known delights on the outer edges of the triangle, the Champs-Élysées, the Arc de Triomphe, the Tuileries. But the real gold is located in the centre of the triangle. 

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...WINDOWS OF NOTE...

231 Rue St Honoré - Jean Paul Hévin.

In the window: chocolates. Some really great chocolates. 
An upscale patisserie and chocolatier, selling some of the most delicate chocolat chaud in the city. A cozy tea room is locate upstairs.

18 Rue Royale - Ladurée Royale 

In the window: pastel colours, ribbons, gold trim, and small pastries. A scene that would make Marie Antoinette smile.
This is a flagship store of a flagship French brand, specialising in macarons. Go just for the window displays, if not for the rosé macaron.

31 Rue Cambon - Chanel

In the window: mannequins dressed in smart black and white cigarette pants, and a glimpse of the famous mirror-paneled staircase.
While you may not be able to afford the incredibly high prices of the items behind the windows, it never hurts to look (or so they say). Just down the street, at 38 Rue Cambon, is the infamous site of Princess Diana's escape from paparazzi before her death.

Place de la Concorde - The Best View

The window: a place on the stone fence on the edge of the Tuileries. 
The view: A sparkling Eiffel Tower, every hour on the hour at night. 

Place de la Madeleine - L'église de la Madeleine

The window: a 18th century Roman Catholic temple, complete with painted ceilings.
The view: a classical concert, maybe Vivaldi, and an impression of the cosmos painted onto the eye of your mind by the violins.