a paris medley

dispatches from my second favorite city

Les bouquinistes, the rare book/poster/tchotchke sellers along the Seine.

The last time I was in Paris I was 21, and I wrote a lot of bad but ultimately sincere poetry about the experience. Like many women with bangs, I had spent the majority of my life hero-worshipping French film actresses and listening to yé-yé music on the bus to 10th grade. I chose …