One of the big questions I’m asked lately is how I’m faring under the strong euro – is it hurting me? Well, it’s all about the power of denial. Are you the sort of person who can walk across hot coals and imagine they are little icy cubes of chilled Jello? Then you might be okay. Maybe. Me, I’m still talking about that one brunch at Rose Bakery last April where I had a plate of eggs and bacon and a large coffee. I can’t tell you how much I love this place – everything is so lovely and organic – but the total was 20 euros. People say you aren’t supposed to make the translation in your head, that you can’t think like that, and I have a couple of friends in Paris who are paid in dollars like I am, and they seem pretty sane. I’m the one most likely to go to the bad place, the place where you are cognizant that your eggs cost you over 30 dollars.
So yes, it hurts. (Even if thanks to a couple of jobs in France which pay me in euros, I now get the reverse sensation when I spend time in Chicago. At Nordstrom Rack in May, a dress from Alexander McQueen’s McQ line seemed a bit expensive, until I made the translation in my head to euros, and realized with glee that buying this dress was almost like stealing.) But in Paris I have to watch my money carefully right now. I've been rediscovering the joys of Zara.
All the more delightful, then, to find an affordable boutique here with things I actually want to buy. I had passed Cindy Glass’s store on the rue Charlot in the Marais often, but with the plastic bows and polka dots, it seemed too I’m a Little Hipster for me. But I’m happy I kept an open mind and eventually went in, because I found these:
I wear them with a trenchcoat and jeans to keep the Minnie Mouse quotient down.
But of all the things in my closet, these shoes are the biggest conversation starter. I made the mistake of wearing them to a sample sale once. Every time I kicked them off to try on a pair of shoes, someone scooped them up and inquired about the price, assuming they were part of the sale.
The best part though, I have saved for last: These heels have a gimmick.
“First you have to turn off the lights,” I tell you.
“Do they see dead people?”
“No,” I say, smiling.
Now if experience is any indicator, once you’re done chuckling, you’ll step forward and whisper soft and low in my ear, “Tes chaussures sont très jolie.” And then you’ll kiss me.
I think it’s safe to say these shoes are earning their keep.