A gastronomic theatre through the backdoor . . .

Alain Ducasse's gastronomic kitchen which seen from where we were sat at his 3-star Michelin restaurant at the Plaza Athenee was like watching a theatre performance. 7 courses of delight smack in the middle of all the action. I remember thinking I wish I had not eaten that huge piece of pork at the Maison Baccarat earlier as what awaited us by the Chef was an epicurian adventure which included cockscombe among many other things.

From our room we descended up the bar for Grey Goose martinis then onto Ducasse. . . via the backdoor . . .

down the stairs . . .

to witness this . . . .

and to sit, just Lynn and I with the unwavering attention of sommeliers, a maitre de and waiters who took care of us under the watchful eye of the Chef (he's the guy without the big white hat).

the beginning

cockscombe

curtains down

the end

and back to the surface of the restaurant with our goody bags and customised menus . . . what bliss it was to climb up the stairs to bed . . . stuffed little gourmand piggies. Thank you Chef.

Louvre Privé

A private tour of the Louvre in the day time is something kind of special and quite possibly one of my favourite bits of our big French adventure by grey goose, especially when the tour guide is one of the directors in there and knows everything . . . this possibly is a case of pictures speaking much louder than words when walking down the corriders of the former palace we did not queue nor bump into anybody and mumble under our breath "augh, excusez moi."

I spent a good two hours with the hairs on my arms standing up as I walked down the corridors and let the history of the world as captured through magnificent specimens of art talk to me, and our guide explain some of the stories behind specific works. The Louvre is closed to the public on Tuesdays so this really is the day for maintenance as well as for private tours, of which there is special clearance and badges required.

maintenance

One of Fabrice's favourite works is this Italian renaissance piece for its complexity and how it tells a complete story, very early propoganda for the order of the Benedictine monks.

Another which is this Fragonard painting, to this day, art historians are still confounded as to whether the blonde was willing and just playing innocent or was coerced into an affair with handsome dark man. I agree with Fabrice and think she was completely willing and rather enjoyed herself (tuls tuls).

There are lots of animals in the works of the renaissance masters . . . here you have a parrot speaking to a cat.

Typically for us and our bad luck, the Denon gallary with La Jaconde or Mona Lisa and Venus di Milo was closed . . .so we did not get to stare at her eye to eye without a mob.

Access STRICTLY forbidden

That was ok though because I got to re-enact for a moment how it would feel like to be Queen Mary de Medici as she comes out of her secret door where she elevates herself to Goddess status through the story that Ruben's masterpieces tell, she compares herself to Mary and other powerful women in the past, immaculate works of propaganda and a collaboration between a queen and a master, Rubens.

the dark patch is where the door once was

The goddess Nike in all her glory.

Then we went to the apartment of Napoleon III (which then became the Ministry of Finance), it is funny always how in history the establishment is destroyed to only be replaced with a new establishment which ends up behaving the same way as the former establishment and aspiring to have the same things . . . all that gold and all those crystals explains it all. It was designed by Visconti and links the Palais to the Tuileries.

The apartment houses wonderful artifacts, some very exotic ones at that and has kept with all its former glory the interiors, one can almost imagine the parties that went on there.

The immensity and significance of the Louvre when you have close to a private audience with her is very powerful, it makes you feel very small and in fact agaisnt all of that work, one is pretty small.

Lynn in the sculpture garden

A visit to Mesopotamia

The juxtaposition of all that history with IM Pei's pyramid is what then sheds light on a country that understands making history relevant and housing it as such.

The sculpture garden - once a parking lot

Lynn, Fabrice and I

What is crazy is what we see, is only a slice of what the museum owns, all that work is a country in itself and a rather beautiful one at that.

A sailboat and the Man in the Iron Mask

We went sailing courtesy of Grey Goose, on a divine 20 foot sailboat with Francois, Eric and Marie Rose . . .it was wonderful . . .

I particularly liked the deck . . . and the bleached wood.

And there is no denying, we do love the French Riviera . . . I would say 30 oysters chucked for just us and Petrossian caviar and blinis was a nice touch. Grey Goose layed the luxury on pretty thick . . .we loved that the caviar came in little hoops that said "eggciting". Sailing around St. Tropez would have been nice but we would not have gotten to see the prison where the man in the iron mask of history and legend, who to Alexandre Dumas was King Louis XIV's twin brother, was held . . .

We sailed into the sunset, I do like the pace of life on the water and the fact that one can really breath.

I wonder what it would take to have sticky rice, somtum and chicken from soi polo transported to us . . . apparently they have a motorcycle delivery service, I wonder if that extends to the Med, now that really would be rather something, Petrossian x Jae Gee, someone should try that sometime.

The thing with being on this amazing boat and just rolling along on the water is it awakens you to the simplicities in life (or at least it did to me), that it really can just be so simple and it is freedom that is perhaps the biggest luxury of all. If only I did not forget my bikini and I could have jumped into the water as the sun was beginning to sleep.

Paris, Firemen and Fireworks

After a week of Discerning France by Grey Goose, I found myself in Paris amongst good friends and a fair bit of entertainment. The hour queue to the Petit Palais was a change after a private tour of the Louvre but worth every bit even if the grumpy man in front thought all women going to pay homage to Yves Saint Laurent and his legacy were vain. It was inspiring.

Alexia

Our return to Paris was also the night of the World Cup final, La Palette was definitely a Spanish Bastion, thankgood ness they won . . . I think my Uncle Boonmee shirt got about as much attention as the game initially. Thanks P'Joei, the movie will be screening in paris soon.

Let's not forget that Paris itself is glorious, especially in the summer. I was introduced to Joli ice cream at Colette by Guillaume Salmon, ice cream never tasted so good nor PERFECT. It's some technology that hits up the ice cream and remixes it or something. There really is nothing as glorious as strolling and catching up with old friends.

Then there was the Bal des Pompiers on the eve of Bastille Day where the day when France were liberated adn became a republic, all the fire stations in the capital have a party, they celebrate like there is no tmr and one does wonder what would happen if there was a fire when all the fire stations are turned into a big ball and firemen dance the night away. We went to he one on teh Rue du Jour, a reunion with Caroline and other Parisian peeps. . .It was definitely a ball. It is odd that in a fire station one drinks champagne and queues for grilled sausages. There were many women around queing up also for the attention of the heroes, only the lucky few succeeded, I was happy with just a pose. . . and a view of the fake Tom Jones and swril around the pole. It was a shock that the Fire Club did not light up in fire with all that body heat.

There was news of rain but what Paris was up for on Basitlle Day or the day of the great parade in the air and on the streets was a serious torrential storm, much like that of monsoon in Thailand. I was happy to see my daughter Cleo over a love burger even if my espadrilles did get wrecked . . .

M/M Paris Love Burger

Then on to Alex de Betak's Parisian home to watch the fireworks in Trocadero. No words can describe the light show we witnessed. I was very luck to have commentary by Liya Kebede's son Suhl and daughter Raya, defo two of the cutest and sharpest kids I have ever met, they even gave me a prime location on the balcony with them.

The footage speaks wonders, to see the glittering Tour Eiffel syncrohhnicsed with firewoeks, as Suhl said, it's like Symmetry (he is only 10 years old) . . . it was magical, like Disneyland a bit :).

And talk about Finale . . pretty fiting to be watching it from one of the masters of light and sound and show himself . . . and what a finale it was, as far as I was concerned, perfect for my last night in Paris.

No Way Back

The genius of Stefano Pilati of YSL . . . the creative director of a super-brand that is able to draw inspiration and his own vision from Mark Mahoney and his tattoo institution The Shamrock Social Club in LA. Ari Marcopoulos is amazing - as usual - he gets down beneath the skin of it (literally) . . . love Mark Mahoney's natural style and grace and I bet that's YSL's s/s 2011 he's rocking. Thank goodness for a return to some kind of authenticity . . . if the boys rock that waspy/Ivy League boarding school look again next summer, I think I will run away to Los Angeles. . .




and get a tattoo at the Shamrock Social Club.