Sipping cosmos and making jokes, the three Americans were introduced as having several things in common, such as : well, but of course…being American in Paris, being published writers, and being bloggers! (a subject that sparked a debate on how blogging is viewed in the publishing world). Heather, looking snazzy in a vintage dress and red shoes, and a girl after my own heart, first arrived here as a student. Love it! And did the fight-for-a-visa-States-side-France-side yoyo until finding a way to stay. But she chuckled about never having really found a « real » job so she wrote a book, Naughty Paris, and made a business of sharing her love and knowledge of Paris to intrigued tourists.
David’s suggested that we read his book to know his story. David, describes himself as a chef, who once threw pans at people in a busy crazy San Fran kitchen, the writing seems to have been an inevitable side-effect of his life as a food expert and food-artist in paris. I like the term food artist, to me it means more than just making food, it means creating a tasty work of art with it! David, I hope you don’t mind me attributing that title to your resumé! 😉
Alex’s story was pure and hilarious. As an 11 year old boy, he came to Paris with his parents and his brother. He recounted how a parental argument, over bringing two children to the Tour d’Argent would be a silly waste, found him hot and bored in their hotel room. Independant at heart, he decided that it would be a terrible waste to sit in that room all night, so he went out. On his own. He was eleven. He went around the corner to the Champs Elysées, sat down at a café terrace and asked for a glass of « vin rouge ». Feeling very smug upon reception of this grown-up beverage, and tickled by the fact that they served it to him, he felt inclined to go a little further. All those French people smoking elegantly and sipping their drinks, gave him the desire to try something else he’d never had. He asked for a ‘gauloise’ (a French cigarette). He was given one. His brother finally ventured out to join him. His brother was ten years old! And the two sat there sipping wine and smoking cigarettes like everybody else, and the other café patrons just giggled at these two blond-haired blue-eyed kids, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world. Alex obviously had Paris in his heart right from the start.
The only thing marring the evening was the horrendous service at the café. I will never return there again, (unless of course David, Heather or Alex show up again).
The author’s speeches at the café Etienne Marcel turned into a chat over cocktails and a book signing session. Sex in the City is lucky to have some creative promotion, and Paris is lucky to have three such fabulous people advocating the virtues (and vices) of this amazing city.