French la Vie

Guest Post Lana

 

This November my blog will be 16 years old. To celebrate I am asking you my readers to submit a Guest Post for my blog as a way of celebrating our connectedness as a community through social media. 

I hope you will send me your story or at least a glimpse into your life (please send your story and JPEG photos to my email then I will post them to my blog. This will introduce you to one another.

Many of you are feeling shy, or worse not worthy as if there is a prize for the best life lived. I hope, truly hope, you will take a leap of faith in telling me and my readers about yourself, a cherished memory, a recipe, a hobby, what inspires you, what you dream about, and more importantly how are you? What are you living with or through right now?

Your story, as all of our stories, are one, interconnected by the weaver, the river, the dreamer, the wind, the path as we are on moving forward to the light. Please consider sharing a bit of yourself with me.

Thank you in advance for being part of French la Vie / Tongue in Cheek. 

...

 

 

 

Corey and me in Oakland

 

 

French la Vie/ Tongue in Cheek has played such an important part in my journey I have followed Corey for years.

 

I found out early that we had a lot in common. Corey was raised in Willows, California and I was raised in Berkeley.  We have family in Willows and Corey's family knew them.

 

We would visit Willows often as my father's father lived there with his family and they owned a large supermarket in town. Their family name is Mock which is my maiden name.

 

 

My five sisters and me

 

 

My father had a meat market in Oakland. During WWII he entered and served when he was discharged, he re-opened the store. I have five sisters yes, six girls we worked at my father's market. Burning the feathers off of the chickens, cleaning and cutting them up for restaurants, stocking up the meat cases, and waiting on customers, we worked alongside ten other butchers.

 

After attending UC Berkeley studying classical archaeology, at a young age I was married for eight years when we divorced, I was devastated, I thought I would not put all my chickens in one basket again. I would have my own friends: both female and male and I would do what I like, instead of swallowing my personality to accommodate only the interests of another man. 

 

I decided to catch up for the lost time. I dated, partied, attended concerts, and thoroughly enjoyed myself.  I had a wonderful 4 yr relationship that I thought would last, but it ended sadly or maybe not.  I re-grouped and remarried a 2nd time this time to a lawyer it was definitely a case of rebound.  I divorced within the year.

 

My first husband was a major drug dealer who manufactured meth and sold cocaine internationally. This was unknown to me while we were married he later served thirteen years in federal prison in the USA and in England.

 

My second husband is currently serving seven years in jail for embezzling twenty four million dollars from clients' trusts and wooing women we had homes in Pebble Beach and Tiburon.

 

My husband Steve and me at Christmas

 

 

Then I met my third husband. We will be celebrating thirty eight years on October 29th. My husband Steve Kloch is a kind, helpful, supportive husband.  He supports my interest in my love of France and anything French.

 

 Corey and I connected when I visited my cousins in Willows, we started a beautiful relationship. She had arrived from France and was going to talk about her adventures at a well-known furniture store in Chico (Nantucket) my husband and I drove up and met her (again) and her husband Yann.

 

 

A corner in my home

 

Since then, I have bought treasures on her brocante site and was able to attend her French la Vie.  I was exposed to the best brocantes and artists.

 

More importantly, I discovered that Corey has, the best taste, designs, and eye for architecture, remodeling, staging, decor, and cooking. Her home in France and her apartment in Paris would make anyone feel like a princess. It's as if you were a millionaire paying millionaire prices for what she provides.

 

 

 

Chelsea, Dolores and me in Willows

 

When I stayed with Corey in Willows, I learned she got some of her beautiful attributes from her mother Dolores. The family traditions, the baking, making the home so beautiful was her hobby and love. She scattered so many collections throughout her home indoors and outdoors.

 

 

A peek at some of the "Sense and Nonsense" I have.

 

 

 

 

One of my first finds in Paris’s brocante 10 years ago, a metallic embroidered memoriam celebrating a wedding.

 

 

I am Seventy Seven years old now the last fifteen years or so I have been collecting / selling French ware. Aso I have published 2 magazines and started a business with the help of Wendy Addison, Theatre of Dreams my business is called: Stuff and Nonsense.

 

 

We hold classes in our home for teachers who need a safe space to teach and invite guests who appreciate these artists.  I am able to share my love of cooking at these events.. and my husband plays a large part in this too as he serves the coffee and refills and the champagne. He ensures the guests have a great time.

 

 

 

I also hold sales in the home and @ the theatre of dreams in Port Costa. Where I will be selling again the week, before Thanksgiving.

 

To be with Corey Amaro and share in her passions has made my life so remarkable.  I hope my friends are able to find their passion and make magic. Life is a gift. We can make it what we want, keep a positive attitude, and surround yourself with positive people.

 Life is a journey with many twists and turns I would not change a thing to become who I am today with the interests, friendships, and passions I have today. 

 

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Seashells

 

 

First, I must say I use to collect seashells. But that is not why I gave Chelsea her name. 

Secondly, my daughter's prenom-first name is, "CHELSEA." My Father-in-law, a man of very few words, let alone English ones, said to me at her birth: "Chelsea is, "Sea-Shell, backward, non?"

The French pronounce CH as SH, my daughter's name, therefore, is pronounced, "Shel-sea".

When I was pregnant I mentioned to Yann that I liked the name; "Chelsea." Yann looked at me, mouthed the name without any sound coming out, then despite himself he said, "Chilli, you said Chilli!" That should have been my first indicator that English names were not pronounced the same in French, and picking a name that sounds the same in both countries should be foremost in importance.

But I didn't catch that name pronouncing detail back then.

English pronounce Yann as Yawn. French pronounce Corey as Core-Ay. Names like Anna sound the same as does Laura or Mark, well more or less the same, but not nearly as butchered as Chelsea. Chelsea was often called, "Jealsee" by her teachers when a child in school.

Luckily, in France everyone gets by with Monsieur or Madame, names are something reserved for a future relationship. Though, when you have a prenom that isn't French, you are left as a Madame Americaine forever.

Hence Gabriel sounds close enough Gay-briel in English, and Gab riel in French.

I just call him baby.

Looking for a Place to Stay in Paris

 

 

 

Are you or is someone you know looking for a place to stay in Paris?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our apartment is located at Rue du Chateau, 75014 in Paris.

The nearest metro line is two minutes away: #13 Pernety, which is a direct line to the Champs Elysee, the Porte de Vanves brocante, St Ouen, the largest antique market in the world, and more. Can you believe the luck that I had to have a direct line to two places on earth that I love? Antiquing heaven.

Our apartment is one bedroom, one bath, with a large living/dining room and a 650-square-foot kitchen.

Sleeps two.

Our apartment is in a very family-oriented, multi-cultural neighborhood. Across the street, there is a bakery, on the other side, a cafe, and on the other corner, a restaurant. Our building is small, with three private apartments, ours being one of them. Our apartment is located on the third floor without an elevator, which means 44 steps from top to bottom.

Everything you might need is located within five minutes on foot from our apartment: A grocery store, a fruit and vegetable shop, a flower shop, many restaurants, cafes, nightlife, bars, a bookstore, wine shop, cheese shop, gift shops, pharmacy, tailor, dry cleaning, galleries, hair salon, cobblestone streets, hidden parks... it is a neighborhood that takes you to the center of real life as a Parisian. 

 We only rent it for a few weeks out of the year, so if you are interested, it is best to contact us as early as possible.

 

 

 

  

 

A view of the bedroom

 

 

 

An antique map of Paris hangs on the wall in the bedroom.

 

Our one-bedroom apartment has a queen-sized bed, a closet, and a dresser.

Linens are provided.

 

 

 

 View of the bedroom

 

 

 

Our apartment is furnished with personal items and antiques,  it is our second home.

 Most of the antiques are in the apartment I bought at Porte Vanves brocante, which is nearby.

If you ever need a guide to the brocantes-antique markets, let me know. I will gladly show you around Paris or Provence.

 

 

 

 

From the bedroom there are two steps down into the entrance.

From this photo (above), the entrance (door) is to the right after the picture easel.

My Mother-in-law and my husband bought the apartment over thirty years ago. 

In 2013 we renovated it, what an adventure that was. 

To read more about our renovation, click here

Our Paris apartment - How we turned it into a Gem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

The pieces of wood that you see (above) in the entrance , we discovered during the renovation. They are the "skeleton walls" as I call them. We chiseled layers upon layers of plaster, mortar and rocks to expose this section of wall. I had slivers from sanding them for days.

Worth every one of them.

 

 

 

 

 

The entrance.

Our apartment has five long classic windows, allowing it to be sunny.

 

 

 

 

The entrance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The living area.

 

We now have a large rug under that round coffee table.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of the corners of our apartment, a gathering of antiques that I found at the nearby brocante.

A wooden centuries old statue, a console that I painted and a collection of  worn loved books from the 1700s.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The door on the right leads into the bathroom. Behind the bust on the pedestal is the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

  

The kitchen is fully equipped.

 

Many pieces are antiques, such as dishes and silverware. Plenty of cupboards and counter space.

Antiques that you can live with, love-worn, useful, nearly practical, always enchanting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As we stay in our apartment often, we have created it to be like our home in Provence: comfortable, personal, inviting...

We hope others feel the same way, "At Home" in Paris.

We have silverware and pretty tabletop items to make dining feel special or at least to let you know you are in France.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A view of the kitchen.

The appliances are behind doors, and behind the counter as well, we did this to incorporate the kitchen into the living space, and not make it stand out as a kitchen , but blend in as a living space. 

Note: There is a laundromat located across the single lane street.

Open until eight pm. Laundry soap can be purchased on site. A dry cleaner (across the street) is also available.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Basic supplies such as: Olive oil, vinegar, coffee, tea, sugar, pasta, spices, wine, toiletries, dish soap...

are included to use if need be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

View of the dining room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We gutted the apartment to create a larger, airy space. We took down six walls.

When you are walking up those 44 steps to our apartment, imagine the debris we had to carry.

Creative exercise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We often add things. This is last year's view; this year, we added a new demi-lune cupboard to the back corner.

 

And a wall of dishes.

 

 

 

 

A view of a corner in our apartment, an alcove we discovered when taking a wall down.

The baluster is from one of the oldest light shops in Marseille.

When the shop moved, they took the balusters that their great father had made

and turned them into lamps. I bought this one before it was transformed and turned it into a lamp.

 

 

 

 

The newest edition is a demi lune cupboard with platters from the 1700s. I am constantly adding them. At last count, there were 13.

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 One of the views from our apartment.

Walking five minutes down rue Chateau, you will see the Eiffel Tower. 

It is a wonderful view, especially in the evening when it sparkles!

 

 

 

 

 

 

More about our renovation here.

 

 

 

 

 

The bathroom has a shower.

Linens, toiletries, a blow dryer and a curling iron are provided.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wifi and phone/plus long distance phone calls are free.

 

 

 

 

-We rent our apartment for a three night minimum or longer.

 

-For one or two persons only.

-No smoking, or animals allowed.

-A 300 Euros refundable deposit is required to reserve, and if everything is left in good order: No damage, missing items and or cancellations, we will return the deposit within three days of your departure.

For availability and price please contact me:

[email protected]

 

Thank you and please feel free to share our apartment site with others. 

 

NOTE: Victoria Magazine published an article about our apartment in the MAY/JUNE issue 2016. 

The Unveiling of the Cassis Apartment, Part One

 

Last August I found a fisherman's house for sale on the port in Cassis. French Husband and I had dreamed of a place in Cassis for many years, but nothing came up that we could afford... and then by lucky chance the fisherman's house came our way. The house was in need of major repair, most would have found it daunting, though we had a master contractor on our side: Rene the hero made it happen.

I have delayed showing photos of our place because I wanted everything to be ready down to the dishes in the cupboards, and paintings hung. It is 99 percent completed, and the unveiling can begin. Instead of showing everything all at once I will do it in sections.

First, the stairwell, as it was the most complicated configuration in the entire renovation process due to the space, the beams and because we moved the stairs from one side to the other of the house. Without Joel the clever brilliant blacksmith we would still be going up and down a ladder. The first series show part of the the second floor stairwell, there are three floors connecting 65 meters, or 700 square feet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those of you who know me, know the brocante bug has captured me to my very core, and to the hair on my chinny-chin-chin. When renovating the fisherman's house it was easy to see what walls to knock down, where and how to create the space. Though as time went on, I saw the fisherman's house more contemporary than I ever imagined, I felt it challenging me to keep it that way. 

The light was an holophane street lamp from the1920s. We bought it at a brocante fair. The brocante dealer, who I know, told me over and over again that I was doing the right thing, and that it was worth four times more than the price he was selling it for. Rene transformed the holophane into a hanging light as I wanted.

The painting is from Camille, an artist who I also met at the brocante. Camille's wife was a dance teacher who became an antique dealer. One afternoon while at a brocante (with my friend Gina,) we cut through Camille's wife's brocante shop as to not have to walk around the block, that day she had her husband's paintings on display. Camille is in his eighties now, and he painted this oil painting nearly forty years ago. It is about three feet by four feet in size. 

The holophane and the painting were a massive stretch for me to take from the comfort zone of "chichipompom" brocante style that I adore. Though French Husband fell instantly in love with the challenge, and that was the enduring encouragement I needed to leap into the modern territory of design.

 

 

 

 

 

The entrance is on the first floor, this is the second floor, as the stairs come up they make a mid-air curve to the second floor.  We had the floor rounded to match the curved stairs below. I had Joel trim the edge in iron.

 

 

 

 

 

 

These stairs go up to the bedroom, behind the window there is a bathroom, in front of the window is the living room. The window I saved as it use to be the kitchen door, I had Rene transform it into a window.

The painting in the background is from Camille. The leather stool was a gift from my friend Mo (who makes black clay pottery). The mirror is from Ikea.

 

 

 

The second floor stair well.

Stay tune for more.

xxx

 

Purely Brocante

 

Purely brocante. Things I found at the brocante (Porte Vanves) for our apartment in Paris when we set it up three years ago. Most the items I found were within the first three months of being there. Porte Vanves is one of the best brocantes in Paris, is within ten minutes away from our apartment, dangerous indeed for a brocante-o-holic like me.

A small naive water color in its original 1800s frame. A portrait they say can be measured by how well  the ears or hands are painted. In that case this one is mediocre, but rates high in charm in my beholding eye. The small painting is above the sofa and under a chunky sconce.

 

 

 

Looking out the window through the iron railing of our apartment down at the four corners below. Plenty of activity:

A bakery on one corner, a cafe on the other side, across the street a restaurant, and underneath us a butchery, next door to the meat cutters a men's barber, across the street next to the bakery a seamstress, on the other side of the bakery a pharmacy and grocery store, behind the cafe a puzzle maker... 

 

 

 

 

Today I will polish the old silver in our apartment, it is tarnished after three years of hanging out looking cute. Teapots that I ever use for tea but repurposed as flowers pots.

And an extra long wooden monastic rosary, every kitchen needs one.

 

 

 

 

 The 1700s Moustiers platters and dishes, most have been wired repaired.

Sacha hung most of them, under the watchful eye of paranoid French Husband. When Sacha wasn't here and French Husband wasn't looking I hung some.

All still hanging out which makes dusting extra fun.

The plaster bust looks on without lifting a finger. I bought her for 40 Euros at Porte Vanves.

The platters that I adore, I never pay more than ten Euros each, most less than that. Though with that said, if I was willing to pay 5O Euros each I would have a ton more, but I do not need a ton more? And why when hunting for antiques is a big part of my fun factor: Finding things for less, when finding anything is pretty easy.

 

 

 

 

 

Gilded wooden finials. Some I found others were given to me as a gift from Camy.

The gilded bits are in a porcelain bowl with little feet, so unusual.

 

 

  

 

Two small hand painted wall paper samples from the Napoleon the third era, next to part of a small sea fan from Mexico that French Husband found on the beach. 

 

 

 

 

The chunky monkey chandelier that has at least 500 crystals. Do you remember French Husband and I carrying it on a broom stick to the electrician?

The chandelier in Cassis is not as juicy, but equally as large, dusting will be a breeze by comparison. 

 

 

 

 

Paper back books from the 1700 to 1800s that have that worn elegance that attracts me, or you might say they have been around the block a few times. The books are resting in a handmade blue toile box that is at least fifty years old.

 

 

 

The painted zinc column is from Marseille, but I turned it into a vase.

 

 

 

A little peek into our apartment.

French Doors: Would you paint them?

 

The first thing I did this morning before leaving for the third Victoria Magazine photo shoot was to hit up the salvage yard to look for French doors to use as sliders between the kitchen and bedroom. My lucky stars counted I found two pairs, four doors, perfect size! 30 Euros each! Wooden original glass 1900s doors.

 

 

 

I am thinking to have the paint stripped and leaving them natural wood, to match the kitchen beams. What do you think?

Or should I paint them inky blue black like Arnelle suggested? They will close off the kitchen from the bedroom, first floor, no window, hence that is why these have window panes.

 

 

At the salvage yard a stack of century old ceiling support boards. Natural stripped wood seems to be singing to me, "I wanna go home." Where or how would I use them?

 

 

 

A few hours later I went to Lagnes to my friend Lisa's house where we will be photographing tomorrow.

I am excited to be working with Georgianna Lane.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lucky to spend the night.

 

 

 

One of the views! 

 

Meeting the Original Owners of Our Apartment in Cassis

 

 

 

This is a "d'evier en pierre de cassis" a hand carved stone sink similar to the one in our apartment in Cassis. Most of the homes in Provence had them in the 1800s. In the last home we lived in our sink was like this too.

 

 

Yann met with the family who owned the fisherman's house that we bought. WOW! It has been in their family for four generations. The couple who owned the house are in their late seventies now. Their grandfather was a stone mason who worked in Cassis with the stone from the region, he made the kitchen sink that is in the apartment.

 

They asked Yann if we planned to keep the sink? (it weighs 500 pounds). Usually the sinks don't survive. Usually these type of sinks, are broken out of the wall, as they are too heavy and cumbersome to extract and manage.

 

Yann asked them if wanted the sink that their grandfather had created, and they said no but that they feared we might remove it, they were relived when Yann told them that his crazy American wife had planned to kept it and use as a bathroom sink. They sighed relief, and were pleased. He didn't tell them that I had to beg "BEG" to keep the sink. He didn't tell them, "My wife and I usually see things differently... and she has to pick her "renovating" battles. The sink was one of the battles she picked." No he didn't tell them that. Instead he soaked up their praise, and that means YEAH for me! Maybe when I tell him my next idea he will just say YES instead of, "Of Cor- ay, it is not poss E-bal."

 

 

The Fisherman's house, was divided years ago into five units: One restaurant, Two apartments (we but one) and two storages for the restaurant (we bought one of those as well). Their grandmother had a grocery shop on the bottom floor (where Chez Gilbert Restaurant is now). Oh such history!

 

If you understand French there is a video about Cassis and the famous rocks, Pierre de Cassis (here).

 

Where to buy one? (here).

 

Tons of photos the stone sinks from Cassis on Google, (here)

 

 

Victoria Magazine: Our Paris Apartment

ALL Photos via Victoria Magazine May/ June Issue 2016

 

Several months ago Victoria Magazine asked if they could publish an article about our apartment in Paris. I was thrilled, they set a date, and then I scurried to have everything in place. 

When the photographer and artistic director arrived at the apartment I thought they said 1pm and well no the rendez-vous was at 11 am.

Thankfully, the apartment was in ready I on the other hand... well let's just say it didn't matter what I looked like because the apartment was the model. 

 

 

 

The photographer had his cameras, the art director had pink flowers and I stood back watching my baby being photographed.

A few weeks later an editor wrote to ask me a few questions:

How did you come to live in France? 

"I am a Frenchman's American souvenir."

What do you do there?

"B-R-O-C-A-N-T-E" 

Tell us about your style?

"B-R-O-C-A-N-T-E "

What is the story about your apartment?

I wanted to say:

"Do you want to see a calendar of the hunks who work hard transforming it? Your readers will love them!"

 

 

 

 

 Thank you, Victoria.

 

 

Renovating Plaster Walls

 

The truck pulled on on the port with fifteen 88 pound sacks of plaster powder, plus numerous other sacks that needed to be hauled up stairs.

Manpower is impressive and rather sexy.

 

 

 

 

Pinch myself I do often. A dream come true.

The truck full of plaster sacks is better than a closet full of designer clothes and shoes.

And that view. Amazingly fortunate I feel.

 

 

 

 

Renee, the artisan who is renovating our apartment in Cassis, is young, strong, talented, fast... I am utterly impressed with how he can do it with contagious happy energy.

His father came to help him today. His father looks like his brother. 

Renee's father is an artist one of the many things he does is creates staff moulding by hand. He came to help plaster the walls.

 

 

 

 

 

A massive undertaking in a small space.

Talk about no room in the inn.

 

  

 

 

 

 

My mom tells a story of when my cousin Daniel plastered her dining room. She says that the amount of plaster on the ceiling was enough to cover the entire house.

It stuck, stayed strong and is still there: A ton above the dining room table.

 

 

 

 

 

A biggie bag, as they call them in France full of sand.

 

 

 

Once up the first floor, most things can be hauled up by the electrical pulley.

 

 

 

Those rough walls will be torn down, then chicken wire will be nailed and the plaster process will begin.

The walls upstairs are ready for the chicken wire.

 

 

 

Our apartment, the two blue shutters above Chez Gilbert.

 

 

 

 

The entrance stairs.

Attractive aren't they?

...

 

Our friends from Austria, Lieselotte and Dieter arrived last night. This morning Sacha called to say he wasn't feeling well, he has a high fever, throwing up, worshipping the porcelain god and well feeling miserable. He said he passed out twice. Needless to say, I caught the next train to Paris because that is what moms do. I cannot stand to be sick alone. Our friends are staying for a few days so hopefully I will see them in a day or two. 

.

May peace on earth come soon.

 

 

 

 

Dirt, Dust, Rocks and an 18th Century Boat Paddle

 

Buried under a raised floor, we do not know why it was raised nor hollow underneath, we found a wooden 18th century boat paddle. You bet that is staying in the apartment, not underground either. We had to rip the floor out as one of the beams was in a bad state and needed to be replaced.

 

 

 

 

 

This a closer look at the top part of the handle.

 

 

 

Since the stairs are ripped out the only way to get to one floor to the next is climbing up the skinny straight up ladder. Going up is not as scary as the first step down.

 

 

 

 

 

This is the new old beam, isn't it beautiful? If only I had the money to replace all of them I would. 

The one in the background is in good condition, and just because I would like to replace it doesn't mean it is going to happen. I wanted to strip it back to the original wood, but the space to work in has no floor at the moment. Each inch of the apartment has either buckets, or shovels, or supplies, or rubble, or workers, or ladders... since we cannot do anything outside, everything is inside. Tasks such as stripping the beams of the old stain and varnish are not high on the list of things that need to be done and space usage. Oh, and by the way, I say, "We" as if... My mother would say, "Do you have a mouse in your pocket?" As "we" doesn't mean that I am doing any of the renovation. But just running around selecting, purchasing and making decisions. I have the fun part.

 

 

 

Second floor.

Boards on beams with a ladder.

Secure, but scary as hell.

 

 

 

It doesn't look secure.

I tapped it, and poked it before walking across.

 

 

 

 

 

Up up up is the bedroom.

The stairs will go on the right side.

The stairs: Finding stairs that will work, given the beams, small space, angle and more importantly, as if that isn't enough important stuff already, getting them upstairs from the outside inside is the biggest challenge as the space is only 55 cm. wide. 

 

 

 

Looking down from the bedroom loft to the middle floor.

 

 

 

Standing on the edge, talking about the skylight. We decided not to extend the loft. The light from the skylight is too important to block.

 

 

 

 

That is what it looks like to go two floors down.

Scary (insert bad word).

 

 

 

Yann does it with a folder in hand.

I did it with my heart in my mouth.

 

 

 

I believe this is going to be lovely.

I see it finished.

Yann says that is a gift he does not have, he cannot visualize images.

 

 

 

 

Middle floor makeshift workbench. 

 

 

 

Rubble going down, at least the pulley is electric.

Though the last floor to the outside world is on foot.

 

 

 

The stone wall. Not a elegant stone wall more like a hit and miss, mismatch or rubble and dirt stone wall.

Plaster will cover this.

 

 

 

 

 

The new old beam with sprouts of greenery growing inside.

The ceiling on the right had to be replaced. The ceiling of the left has the old beams, though it looks interesting as is, it is too rustic for my taste. Cleaned up could be beautiful, unfortunately the amount of time, energy and money to do so might not make it worth it. I might regret covering them... I haven't decided what to do.

 

 

 

 

History whispers. Modernity calls. Beauty sings. I stand in awe of it all.

 

 

 

The water heater that belongs to the restaurant below us, use to be in the stairwell, the stairwell is no longer there. Crazy but true. So the restaurant's water heater will go in their storage space which we enter to get inside the apartment. Now if you understood that layout you are a champion of visualization.

 

 

 

 

The ladder is standing on the future kitchen.

The wooden paddle was found in that back space under the floor...

 

 

 

The kitchen (on the first floor) looking up at the new ceiling and the hole that will house the stairs to the middle floor. If you saw the video on Facebook this is where the electrical saw was cutting through.

 

 

 

How do you carry tons of debris down two flights of stairs when there aren't stairs?

 

 

I Walked the Plank

 

Brave took me up the ladder, fear reminded me that a ladder broke which caused my wrist to shatter the last time I was up a ladder. But there I stood on the second floor looking down where a floor use to be. This is the section where the two beams had to be replaced. The builder is re-using the smaller beams/slates that use to be there.

 

 

 

 

That space will be a living room... or in this shack-teau better known as a sitting room. 

 

 

Everything gutted... 

A slab will be created and then the ceiling will be installed underneath. As making cement outside is impossible due to the restrictions on the port, and impossible to carry a cement mixer up the narrow steps. The builder introduced us to another product. I forgot to take photos of it, so I will show you that another day. It looked like sheet rock but more solid than sheet rock.

Anyway.

 

 

 

 

The space above will be a bedroom.

We took the ceiling off to open up the roof line.

It sure feels lighter.

 

 

 

I walked across these planks a few times, eventually the builder noticed me doing so and remarked casually, "Oh stay on the yellow slab, because the other ones are not stable enough. 

I about fainted as I was standing on those two brown boards taking photos.

Gulp.

 

 

 

 

Funny how I just noticed the old plaster wall was a pinkish color.

There is the ladder we used.

 

 

Images via Ikea

The kitchen I bought is through IKEA. It is light grey.

The counter will not be black, nor will there be any upper cabinets.

The counter top is faux marble.

 

 

This was a door in the apartment. Maybe we will use it as a window instead. 

But who knows. 

It is 97 cm wide.

 

 

 

Photo via Copper Bath

 

This I fancy. It might be too overpowering, or industrial for the kitchen but I am toying with the idea of copper and grey.

When I showed French Husband he looked at me like I had lost my marbles.

 

Photo via Pierre Frey

 

Oh this light.

Nothing certain, just tossing ideas... and watching French Husband sweat, as dust swirls around.

 

 

If you have any questions let me know and I will try to answer them in the comment section.

Tomorrow is the Day We Start the Work in Cassis

 

Tomorrow the renovation begins. Sledge hammers, tiles, rocks, more rocks, dust galore will happen, then hauled down two flights of stairs in buckets since the stairwell is small and the port doesn't allow removal from tubes out the windows.

Such fun.

This is the other part of the apartment. It is on three floors. We call this the first floor, the other floor we call the middle, and the last floor the loft.

On the first floor will be the entrance, a kitchen and a bedroom. The middle will have a bathroom, and a living room, the loft will be another bedroom.

That is the plan.

 

 

 

There are two sets of stairs to the apartment. This set will be ripped out, and covered over giving us a couple more feet of living space, or enough room to add a table by the window.

Those stairs will become many buckets of debris, at least a ton worth.

 

 

 

 

This is the view from the first floor, where the kitchen will be.

Twilight in Cassis. 

 

 

 

The ceiling beams will be stripped back to the natural wood.

The angle piece (on the left) will be removed as it is the exterior stairwell going to the middle floor.

Hence in front of French Husband there will be a new set of stairs going to the middle floor.

The kitchen will go on French Husband's left side, it will be three meters fifty long.

 

 

 

This is the angle part that will be taken out.

 

 

 Renee is the young man who will be doing the work, and the little guy is his sweet son. 

Behind French Husband is the window (future kitchen table)  in front of him will be a bedroom, where he is standing a kitchen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The future bedroom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so it begins tomorrow morning.

...

 

 

 

 

 

Our Apartment in Paris

 

Our apartment is located at Rue du Chateau, 75014 in Paris.

The nearest metro line is two minutes away #13 Pernety, which is a direct line to the Champs Elysee, the Porte de Vanves brocante and St Ouen the largest antique market in the world and more. 

Our apartment is a one bedroom, one bath,  with a large living/dining room and kitchen 650 square feet.

Sleeps two.

Our apartment is in a very family oriented, multi cultural neighborhood. Across the street there is a bakery, on the other side there is a cafe, and a restaurant on the other corner. Our building is small with three private apartments, ours being one of them. Our apartment is located on the third floor without an elevator, which means 44 steps to our apartment.

Everything you might need is located within five minutes on foot from of our apartment: A grocery store, a fruit and vegetable shop, a flower shop, many restaurants, cafes, nightlife, bars, bookstore, wine shop, cheese shop, gift shops, pharmacy, tailor, dry cleaning, galleries, hair salon, cobblestone streets, hidden parks... it is a neighborhhood that takes you to the center of real life as a Parisian. 

 We only rent it a few weeks out of the year. So if you are interested it is best to contact as early as you can.

 

 Peek into the kitchen.

 

 

A view of the bedroom

An antique map of Paris hangs on the wall in the bedroom.

 

Our one bedroom apartment has a queen size bed, a closet and a dresser.

Linens are provided.

 

 

 View of the bedroom

Our apartment is furnished with personal items and antiques,  it is our second home.

 Most of the antiques that are in the apartment I bought at Porte Vanves brocante which is nearby.

If you ever need a guide to the brocantes-antique markets let me know, I will gladly show you around.

 

From the bedroom there are two steps down into the entrance.

From this photo (above) the entrance (door) is to the right after the picture easel.

My Mother in Law and  my husband bought the apartment over thirty years ago. 

Recently we renovated it, what an adventure that was. 

To read more about our renovation click here

Our Paris apartment - How we turned it into a Gem.

 

 

Review:

Andrea Waltzer Hames said, " Celebrated my 70th there! Wonderful apartment, with all the touches you know Corey is famous for. We also loved the location. Hope to get back."

 

 

The pieces of wood that you see (above) in the entrance , we discovered during the renovation. They are the "skeleton walls" as I call them. We chiseled layers upon layers of plaster, mortar and rocks to expose this section of wall. I had slivers from sanding them for days.

Worth every one of them.

 

 

The entrance.

Our apartment has five long classic windows which allows it to be a sunny place.

 

The entrance.

 

 Review:

Robin Sousa said,  "My husband and I spent two lovely weeks at Corey's apartment.

It is in a great location and certainly well appointed! Corey and her husband are very generous hosts." 

 

The living area.

We now have a large rug under that round coffee table.

 

 

One of the corners of our apartment, a gathering of antiques that I found at the nearby brocante.

A wooden centuries old statue, a console that I painted and a collection of  worn loved books from the 1700s.

 

 

 

Review:

Diana Johannesen said, 

"For once Corey Amaro's pictures of Art do not give you the FULL essence of your visit to her apartment. First, it is an experience, second, you do not get the sounds, you do not get the smell of the French Bakery across the street, you do observe the romance of people watching from your window with a cup of tea, or wine! Right downstairs,the unique owners of the Russian  restaurant, that have you drink vodka with them and they share their story. They make you feel like community not tourists!
It is the safest area, and close to everything! Let me win my imaginary contest in my head, and I will be there tomorrow!"

 

The door on the right leads into the bathroom. Behind the bust on the pedestal is the kitchen.

 

The kitchen is fully equipped.

 

With many pieces being antiques, such as the dishes and silverware. Plenty of cupboards and counter space.

 

 

 

 

As we stay in our apartment often, we have created it to be like our home in Provence, comfortable, personal, inviting...

we hope others feel the same way, "At Home" in Paris.

 

Review:

 

Michelle Buron-Homer  said:  "Trust me you will NEVER want to leave! "

 

A view of the kitchen.

The appliances are behind doors, and behind the counter as well, we did this to incorporate the kitchen into the living space, and not make it stand out as a kitchen , but blend in as a living space. 

Note: There is a laundromat is located across the street.

Open until eight pm. Laundry soap can be purchased on site. A dry cleaner (across the street) is also available.

 

 

Basic supplies such as: Olive oil, vinegar, coffee, tea, sugar, pasta, spices, wine, toiletries, dish soap...

are included.

 

View of the dining room.

A marble top table with four chairs.

 

We gutted the apartment to create a larger airy space. We took down six walls. When you are walking up those 44 steps to our apartment image the debris we had to carry.

Creative exercise.

 

 

We  often adding things... this is last year's view, this year we added a new demi lune cupboard to the back corner.

 

 

A view of a corner in our apartment, an alcove we discovered when taking a wall down. The baluster is from one of the oldest light shop in Marseille. When the shop moved, the took the balusters that their great father had made, and turned them into lamps. I bought this one before it was transformed and turned it into a vase.

 

 

 

The newest edition a demi lune cupboard with platters from the 1700s.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 One of the views from our apartment.

If you walk five minutes down rue Chateau you will see the Eiffel Tower. 

It is a wonderful view especially in the evening when it sparkles!

 

 

 

More about our renovation here.

 

 

 

 

 

The bathroom has a shower.

Linens, toiletries, a blow dryer and a curling iron are provided.

 

 

 

 

Review:

Susie Hamilton said:  "I am happy to share what a beautiful and wonderful apartment it is. Longing to be there again."

Wifi and phone/plus long distance phone calls are free.

 

 

 

-We rent our apartment for a three night minimum or longer.

-For one or two persons only.

-No smoking, or animals allowed.

-A refundable deposit is required if everything is left in good order: No damage, missing items and or cancellations.

For availability and price please contact me:

[email protected]

 

Thank you and please feel free to share our apartment site with others. 

The Floral Brocante Find

Brocante Find:

Not as early as usual, after a truckload of medicine and woollens wrapped around me to the high heavens, Alice and I headed towards the Paris flea market at Porte de Vanves, which is ten minutes away on foot. We arrived to a feast for the eyes: Where does this stuff grow? After all these years how can it be as plentiful? We fell in love with more than we could ever want, need or afford. In the midst of glorious wonder, with stories beckoning to be told: Gilded wood from a chateau, relics from churches, tapestries from talented hands, teacups that lips long ago touched... 

 

 

 

Alice found a painting leaning on a table, nearly covered by the table's shadow, as if waiting for her to pass by. "How much?" she asked with a sweet innocence. The price announced was very reasonable, and yet the man winked at her sweetness nudging her to ask for less saying he would honor it. Ah youth! Ah gentle encouragement with the naive soon to be buyer. Alice asked for less, and the dealer gave it to her for less than what she asked.

A buyer was born. The Brocante Bug knows how to swoop in, kissing its victims with desire to save history for future generations.

Later Alice would ask me how she was going to get it back home in Australia.

I rubbed my hands, "Oh where there is a will there is a way," then teased, "If not I know a place of safe keeping."

 

 

 

The painting fits snug in her oversized suitcase.

 

 

 

We went home laden with finds.

We are ready for tomorrow.

xxx

 

And They Lived Happily by the End of the Day

 

The word handyman and the husband that is French do not get along. If there is one thing I could change it would be that, and his long need for silence. To make matters even more interesting that man who is French does not like anyone to do things that need to be done. So hiring a handyman is out of the question. Kinda really drives me to swear under my breath and often out loud.

The woman he married has a tendency, oh wait that might be too mild of a word... to change things, add things, likes old things that need repair. So a lack of handyman and a woman who loves home decor can create for quite the game of: "How to make this happen?" 

Learning to let go and let be is awfully aggravating at times. Usually I am not successful, not at all zen, and well basically a brat.

Prioritizing my handyman jobs is high on my list of learning, "How to make this happen" and keeping peace at home. Don't get me wrong that man of mine who dislikes doing things around the house, appreciates a beautiful home, but could so easily live in a tent... maybe prefers a tent. 

 

 

As we planned our trip to Paris, to stay in our apartment and visit our children I knew I had limited time to get things done. I wanted the bed to be raised... but that didn't happen. I wanted the large bust that I bought in September to be fixed so it could stand upright... that didn't happen. I wanted to paint the front door but that didn't happen. Instead I focused on hanging the collection of 1700s French antique platters that I had been collecting this year for the two walls in the apartment.

I know how to drill holes, I prefer nails, but funny how nails and stone walls don't get along. Also another amazing fact is how pictures can cover big holes. So like I was saying I know how to drill holes but French Husband unravels if I daresay, "I can do it." If I want him to unravel all I have to say is, "I am going to drill holes." Can you hear me laughing? You see French Husband is for the most part easy going... but that is because I know what not to say... well sometimes.

 

 

List in mental hand I picked the moment carefully to ask that man who hates to do handyman jobs, and dislikes anyone doing them, and goes nuts if I attempt to do it myself, to drill NINE holes.

Nine holes is serious business. Serious reflection. Crime worthy. Stressful. Ridiculous to ask.

The day before we left Paris I asked Sacha if he would drill some holes, he said, "Sure."

Just like that. Sure.

Wow, what a concept.

French Husband didn't know what to say.

Why hadn't I figured out that trick before?

The power of the son. Trump card. Magic trick. Love. Happiness. Nine holes with one.

For the record I ask for a handyman every Christmas only to have someone sigh and roll their eyes. Now I have Sacha. If only he lived closer.

 

 

 

Sacha is a perfectionist.

His tendency to have things just a certain way is actually a plus when you want something done right. I remember when he was little if I asked him to sweep the terrace he would literally sweep it lickable clean. 

Perfectionism can be annoying. But not this time.

 

 

 

Son-shine.

Mom beamed.

 

 

That other guy called husband didn't know what to think.

Mom thought genius!

Dad fretted.

Son worked on. 

 

 

Most of the platters are from Gien, late 1700s, they are perfectly imperfect: Cracked, crackled, chipped and stapled.

I reminded that man who isn't a handyman, "Remember you found this one for me?"

I could read his regretful mind. I asked, "Don't you like them like this? Tricky question isn't it?" I giggled and nudge him but he wasn't buying my "let's move on" ticket.

 

 

Sacha continued.

 

 

 

Years ago when the children were children my parents came to visit us. I had been begging Yann to drill some holes in the kitchen so I could put up a rack to hang pans on. After days of asking Yann to do it, my dad bought me a drill. I dared not use it because Yann would not appreciate it. Weird I know, but don't all couples have weird things in their relationship that they have to work around and be mindful of?

Anyway, one evening after asking Yann for the millionth time to drill two holes, he said, "We (like he had a mouse in his pocket) had to think about it some more, since the house was old and not standard, there could be electrical wires to consider, or a pipe or something... we couldn't just drill a hole just like that." My dad had had it, he stood up, grabbed the drill he bought me and drilled a hole in the place I had marked.

POOF the wall exploded, and I am not EXAGGERATING! POOF! Hot water came flooding out of that rapidly ever growing hole. 

As the wall became a sideway volcano, our children cried, my mother covered her mouth, my dad swore, I ran to turn the water-line off and Yann's point was proven.

Nobody ever used the drill my dad bought for me again.

 

 

French Husband grabbed the pliers. 

I teased, "Isn't it fun to have a family project."

His smiled did not crack as charming as the platters.

Oh well.

 

  

The corner piece I found in Paris a few months ago. French Husband had a helluva time getting it home: The shop was closing, we were leaving the next day, it didn't fit in a taxi or a car... so he carried it home. He is generous like that.

Handy man or transporter?

While in Paris this last week I painted it. Which I did instead of painting the front door. Some painting projects are more creative, inspiring, more fun than others. I tend to do the fun stuff first.

 

 

"Nine platters hanging instead of nine ladies dancing!" I cheered.

French Husband didn't respond.

Son shook his head.

Mother didn't care. 

Platters hung,

Victory.

 

 

 

Son stepped back and offered his opinion, "A few more platters are needed." Which was music to my ears, he asked if I had anymore?

Ha.

I wished. I agreed. I thanked him.

At that moment I saw that man called my husband calculating the meaning of more platters needed: More holes to drill.

"Oh God."

 

 

Though even he agreed, more smaller platters were needed.

Love can shine through cracks.

 

 

 

... and they lived happily by the end of the day.

Baptising the Silverware

 

The dust has settled. The project that started a year ago as an idea is completed.

The nails, some old ones remain in the old beams, some have gone to blog readers of mine as French souvenirs.

The couch came, up the stairs, through the door and perfectly put in the living room. Now the search for pillows and a throw. Does it ever end? 

 

 

 

 

The thought of an old cushion was appealing until one came in the mail. The smell came along, most likely little bugs. too. I took out the stuffing with a scarf tied around my face. Feathers flew right and left, I was glad I was outside with a garbage bag in hand.

With an empty pillow case in hand it looked lifeless, hopeless... stuffing is on the list of things to buy. 

Will I get around to doing this? Do you have good intentions that linger around, bug you, nag a hole in your happy day to day life? With words going around and around, "I must do this, I must do that."

The empty pillow case is one of those nagging thoughts.

 

 

Flea market find, brocante bug happiness.

Silverware. These three pieces match, the rest not so much. That is the way I like it: Hodge podge chic.

Piece by piece in the kitchen drawer ready to be baptised.

Which reminds me of the other day I went to Mass, and it was in Latin. The priest stood with his back facing us, and gave us communion on our tongue. I felt like I was a kid back in the 60s, "Am I re-living in pre Vatican II?"

I don't know why I am adding that information. What does it have to do with silverware being baptised?

What does silverware being baptised have to do with the Paris apartment? 

Love. Family and friends. Love. Reunion. Blog readers coming to rent our apartment and finding it to be a cherished loved place. Baptised with your good energy.

 

 

 

Old heavy duty paper, shaped for a paper fan.

I cut out the birds.

Added them to a hanging glass vase.

Now to hang them on the curtain rod.

 

 

We looked at this trumeau for the apartment (750 Euros), though we kept looking, found another for and bought it. Of course I forgot to take a photo of it... And of course it is one heavy puppy to hang. And of course French Husband is not a handy man, and of course I am a ding dong, and of course the trumeau is now in the apartment behind the couch so it doesn't fall over.

Ah the story of a sspontaneous woman who thinks after the creative burst.

 

 

 

A few months ago I met a blog reader of mine: Claire who lived in Paris for over fifteen years, then she moved to San Francisco. During the last few years Claire has sent me music that she has collected and complied... Music she complied for the different moments of my life. Very thoughtful and generous.

At last we met, it was as I imagined a meeting of hearts. 

If you ever stay in our apartment in Paris you will find Claire's music especially selected for the French experience. Oh the wonders of blogging. Claire is one of those wonders.

Oh! The scarf I have on... Claire made it. DIVINE!!! A beautiful Japanese wool, very finely knitted, intricate, sublime... thoughtful Claire!

Why did you move!

 

 

The apartment a small side view.

I need to take some photos and show the floor plan.

On the "List of Things to Do."

This much is certain:

22 steps,

No elevator.

Queen size bed.

Sleeps two.

WIFI.

No TV.

Full of antiques.

A barber stand as a nightstand.

An old map of Paris on the bedroom wall.

A holy water font as a bathroom sink... which is beautiful but so not practical.

If you are planning to go to Paris, and are looking for a place to stay contact me.

xoxo Baptise the Silverware.

 

At Last Setting up the Interior of the Paris Apartment

 

Thank you. Gee who knew that those nude duds would bring on such a response. Number two seems to be the favorite. Though the comments for number one appealed to me: Softer, less classical, color tones less have an older feel, not as muscular... anyway the comments regarding both of them made me "see" how different the two nude charcoal drawing  really are. I am going for number one.

Off to have it framed... 

We found another armoire. Most antique French armoire "break down" since they are wooden pegged instead of nailed. The first armoire we bought did not "break down" and it could not fit up the stairwell, though measured wise it should have. But it didn't. Since we didn't expect it not to fit, we could have had hired a automatic ladder lift, then it could have passed through the window. But time didn't permit that. And since we didn't have a place to store it, we had to haul it back home nine hours. 

The new old armoire we found in Paris. It is not my favorite, but it will do. I thought to paint it. But the wood has been cared for, as if it had been loved. I don't know how to explain it. I usually buy only painted furniture... and yet this piece seems to tell me, "Don't paint me." What do you think?

 

 

 

The console we hung by the window, the sofa/canape (Juliet) will go alongside of it. The canape won't be ready until the first week of December.

I found the wooden 1700s wooden painted statue of Saint Jean the Baptist at Port Vanves Brocante last month. Today we attached the head. Though I forgot to take a photo of the finished product. Or maybe it was because I was cooking dinner and taking a photo of the statue got lost between chopping onions and pouring a glass of wine.

 

 

The kitchen chandelier arrived last month. But as the apartment had renters (Elizabeth and then Lorna) the decorating went on hold along with taking photos. I love that chunky monkey chandelier, I want to find tiny lampshades for it. 

Either burlap with black velvet trim like these click here to see.

Though these handmade metallic ones from ETSY might be the chic way to go.

Or these postage stamp lampshades for FUN, also from ETSY.

 

The map of Paris, floor to ceiling.

The gilded wooden monstrance looking thing I bought at a small antique shop near our apartment in Paris. A pair of tall candlesticks and a brand new dresser that looks old from Maison du Monde. Setting up an altar it seems.

 

 

The barber stand is a not so pratical night stand. Go ahead shake your head.

Some things never change. The brocante bug makes me do these things. I cannot help myself. I would rather have history and beauty then practical... except when it comes to the kitchen and water.

I cannot be practical every step of the way. The other side of the bed has a night stand.

We will see how long this impractical charm last.

I am looking for barber things to add to the hooks, and a pocket watch too, since it has a place for one. 

 

 

 

The apartment is livable, functional... and now it is starting to feel like a home. The interior design is coming along... nearly done. It is missing a few things. Not much. I have my list: A rug, a coffee table, lampshades...

I am working on this corner, and tomorrow adding the finishing touches to a wall paper panel project that I am making. Hopefully I will remember to take photos.

Thank you for your interest in our apartment, your thoughtful support, your humor and most importantly your friendship... I am one happy blogger.

Which Nude Men are the Best?

 

 

Pretty funny title for a PG rated blog don't you think? I wanted your attention. Kind of like screaming, "Wolf!" Because I need your help, I am not in trouble or anything serious like that. You see, I bought a bunch of 1900s French charcoal drawings several weeks ago at the brocante, though I only want to use one of them for the bathroom in Paris. 

 

 

 

I narrowed it down to two of them. The two charcoal drawings are similar, both are signed and dated 1887. Maybe that is why I cannot make up my mind, I like them both.

The other charcoal drawings are either far more in your face, if you know what I mean. Not bad. Just more prominent, aggressive, attention grabbers. Or they are of women and I already have women in the bathroom at home, so I thought I would add men this time. The others are simply not my first choice.

 

 

 Sacha's girlfriend (Yes, he has a girlfriend and she is lovely! That is all I can say about that subject on my blog.) Came by the apartment and she made a statement that made me laugh at myself, Observantly she said, "The apartment looks just like your home back in Provence: Paris map on the wall, ironstone, linen curtains, black table with beige chairs, nudes..." Sacha added, "Mirrors you cannot see yourself, old chic stuff..."

I thought the Paris apartment looked different then our home, darker, different colors, but after she mentioned that it looked the same, I had to agree it does! Except there will be nude men in the bathroom, not just women.

The marble side table, next to the holy water font re-purposed into a bathroom sink, I bought this summer at a brocante for 50 Euros. Since the bathroom sink doesn't have a counter, a side table was needed to put our toothbrush amongst other things. There is a toiletry cabinet next to the sink... photos will come later.

 

 

Which nude men should I use? Wait a minute that is not what I mean! 

Which charcoal drawing should I use for the bathroom?

 

Please let me know, in the comment section, which one you prefer.

(They are in not matted or framed properly, as I haven't decided which one.)

Doesn't Number 1 or Number 2 sound like bathroom talk?

My Brother Mat will probably say, "Flush them," or something of that nature. I am ready for the jokes.

 

P.S. Sorry for the number confusion, I have corrected my error. 

Thank You For Helping Us Pick a Sofa.... And The Winner is...

Thank you for your very helpful comments and emails.

I appreciated each and every one of them.

What I realized from reading your comments/emails is that I am not a canape/sofa person. I prefer chairs. Maybe that is because the canapes/sofas in our home are not so comfortable. Maybe it is due to the fact that I am five feet four inches and my feet(ies) never touch the ground. Maybe that is because we do not have a TV, and I read in bed or the bathtub. 

Thank you for the comments/emails about: Arms being too high, washable cushions, pillows to add personality, how usually only two people sit on a sofa and "DUH" Brother Mat.

The canape/sofa with the most "likes" was Juliet, with Zenna a close second. I liked the orange, but couldn't live with it everyday.

Thank you David and John for your opinions; I remember your beautiful homes in L.A. and Mexico with the fondest of memories.

 

Via La Redoute Canape Juliet

 

The winner is Juliet.

French Husband and I are both happy with that result, and are ordering tonight.

----------------------------

 

 

Help Me Select a Sofa

Via La Redoute Canape Charlotte

(Canape Charlotte)

The renovation of our apartment ended the first part of September. We started bringing in the furniture only to find out that the stairwell is/was a tight little monster that wouldn't let our armoire pass through. Finding this out put a thorn in our happy moment of accomplishment. We had to take the armoire back to Marseille.

At least we hadn't ordered the box springs for the bed. There is always a silver lining in ever disappointment. Or at least I like to believe that there is.

We ordered double box springs for the queen size bed, and managed to bring them upstairs without a problem.

 

 

Via Cerise sur la Deco Canape Hanjel

(Canape Hanjel)

 

Elizabeth, a friend who I met through blogging, had asked me months ago if she could rent the apartment. I told her I thought it be ready but to have a back up plan. A few weeks before Elizabeth arrived I told her that the apartment was completed, but the decor was not. I mentioned that we did not have a canape (sofa in English) but that there were armchairs. She didn't mind.

 

Via Ebay Refaire Canape

(Canape NO WAY as French Husband said so.)

 

After Elizabeth, Lorna another blogging friend, came to stay in the apartment. A whole month went by before we were able to go back and start up where we left off.

So the apartment has been renovated, lived in and yet not completely finished. I don't want to add photos until the big moment of "DA-DA!"

The next step is to hang the charcoal drawings of the nude men, bring in the details that make a place a home and find a canape.

Which brings me to the reason of this blog post:

Which sofa should I buy? I have listed the ones I like.

The canape must be large enough to be comfortable but small enough to fit up the stairwell.

200cm x 80cm x 50cm is the maximum. I prefer a dark grey, or sand color canape. It must be comfortable or French Husband will not go for it... he wants it to be new.

The ones listed fit the bill... more or less.

Let me know which one you like by email or in the comment section.

And or if you have any ideas or leads for me.

 

Via Cerise sur la Deco Canape Chenonceau

(Canape Too Cute, and too small... but a sure bet to fit up the stairwell.)

 

Via La Redoute Canape Gris

(Canape Gris as in Grey)

I like the feet on this one. French Husband (Mr. No Fun) simply stated:

"What do the feet have to do with comfort?"

I replied, Have you ever tried standing on your hips?" He didn't get my stupid joke.

 

 

Via Maison du Monde Canape Bruges

(Canape Bruges)

This is one of French Husband's favorite. I don't mind it... it is a far cry from anything I have ever bought. A girl can change, I can change his mind, not that I ever would.

I have to be sure it comes in two parts.

 

 

 

Via Cerises sur la Deco Zenna

(Canape Zenna comes in Voilette, Apple Green, Grey (!) and Orange.

Guess which color I like the best? 

 

Via Ebay Canape XVI 

(Canape Forget About It.)

An old canape that I found on EBAY but oh well, I have to respect the rules.

 

Via Maison du Monde Antoinette

(Canape Antoinette as in Marie.)

The color is not my favorite, though I like the style.

 

Via La Redoute Canape Juliet

(Canape Juliet.)

Fits the bill.

Via LA Redoute Canape Kara

(Canape Too Cool.)

I think it might be too big. Do you like it?

 

Via La Redoute Canape Sacha

(Canape Sacha, I added it because of the name!)

 

Via Maison du Monde Clarisse Canape

(Canape Clarisse)

French Husband's says, I am cheating by adding the ones I like by putting them in a scene verses just a photo of the bare canape.

He knows me well.

 

Which one would you buy if you had to pick one of them?

 

Don't You Dare

 

So there I was in my normally happy mood at the brocante shop when I saw (in my opinion) this lovely big fluffy comfortable banquette (bench with a cushion).

I took out my mental-not-in-order-of-importance-notebook, and went through the checklist that is: 

1- Need a sofa for the Paris apartment. Check: Yes

2- Within my price range. Check: Yes

3- Must "fit" the look. Check: More or less... 

4- No work needed. Check Yes.

5- Must fit up the stairwell, not too heavy and through the front door. Check I doubt it.

6-  MUST be Comfortable or my family will kill me. Check NO, a big fat NO.

French Husband just stood and stared at me in disbelief. He had that look that said,

"Don't you even dare ask me what I think."

I simply said, "Wrong color."

Though this Paris apartment is doing all sorts of weird things to my styling palette...

Deer horns, brown wooden armoire, charcoal of a nude man, painted black head board...

A comfortable sofa might make it after all.

 

Dinner at the Apartment

 

At home in Paris.

The Apartment is live-able, missing a few pieces such as, the massive chandelier and a sofa, and a few other things I haven't found (Though as my friend Renee said, "A designer designs a beautiful space, but a home takes time to create, piece by piece, memories from here and there.")

But it is live-able. Chelsea and Sacha came over for dinner.

 

 

Chelsea came over after work. She brought dessert.

Chocolate cake that looked like fudge and ice cream.

 

 

 

Sacha was checking out the bedroom, and sighed, "Why can't I live here?"

I reminded Sacha, "Chelsea and you, could both live..." Before I could finish my sentence Chelsea chimmed in, "Dibs on the bedroom."

 

Sacha looked at me, with his hands in the air, and I said, "I guess that means you would get the floor."

Months ago when the apartment wasn't renovated, and looked horrible they both decided they would rather rent somewhere else.

They both decided it wouldn't be good for their brother/sister "love" to live in the same place...

They get along.

They both are neat freaks.... but well Sacha takes ten hours in the bathroom... and that is no joke. 

I think they regret it now.

 

But they don't regret that we now have a place where we can meet and be together that isn't nine hours away by car, or three hours by TGV.

Sacha started film school today.

 

Sacha had stories to tell, Chelsea of course made faces.

I think she should go into acting... clowning.

They are both my heart throb happiness, and I am grateful beyond words to be their mom.

Yann had to go back to Marseille, so he missed the dinner.

We missed him.

 

 

Bits about Renovating: The Fun Part

We came back to Paris to do the details and decorating in our apartment. But first we had to clean it. Dust, wash windows, dust, wash the floors, dust, touch up paint...dust. Our good friends Vlad and Denise, took a day off from their holiday in Paris to help us. What generous friends indeed. Denise added a hem to the shower curtain, she knows I know how to sew, but don't like doing it. After Denise whipped the hem into place she sprang up the ladder, and sang as she shined-up the crystals. 

Where does she come from?

 

 

 

Vlad and Yann added twenty hooks for the Paris map. They calculated, and recalculated and laughed and joked. At times I wondered why they were having so much fun? If I were the one helping Yann... it would not have been such a joyous occassion.

 

 

Back in March my Belle-Mere and I painted some furniture for the apartment. At last I was able to put one of the tables into place. It is in the entrance and fits under the window. 

 

An overview of the main room.

On the left of our friend Vlad is the kitchen.

On the left of the table is the bathroom.

Our friend is heading in the direction of the entrance and bedroom.

On the wall behind him we hope to find an armoire.

 

 

One of a pair of 1800s Provencal chairs that I painted.

 

 

The Paris map in twenty frames.

Twenty frames. 

One by one.

It was thrilling to see it becaming a reality. 

 

Done...

well one wall that is.

 

Sacha came over and talked physics with Vlad over a paint bucket.

 

Chelsea came over after work. 

It had been since April that we hadn't all been together as one.

I lapped up every minute.

I noticed Chelsea had a shirt pof mine on... I don't know about you, but when my daughter wears my clothes they become her clothes, because after I see her in them, they never look the same on me.

 

This is where I am going to sleep, oh a real bed in our apartment!

Sweet Dreams!

 

 

There is a First for Everything

 

This is a sneak peek of the dresser.

A dresser I bought for the bedroom.

It is new almost new.

Second hand new.

What I mean is:

 I BOUGHT SOMETHING THAT WASN'T AN ANTIQUE!

It is an antique style dresser, but that doesn't count for an antique.

I cannot remember if or when I ever bought furniture that wasn't an antique.

Why? In the land of plenty did I do that? 

You got me.

The brocante bug is shaking its head... utter shock.

Back to the Fixer Upper Apartment...

 

 

After a very long drive, we are back in Paris. Our car was loaded, no space left for the things left behind. The entire loooooooooooong way, nine hours, I slepted. Seriously. Tonight will be a jet lag experience.  

Coming into Paris the city was a buzz: People, movement, noise, building after beautiful building... vastly different from our little Provencal village. A smile spread across my soul, one of pure joy, grateful to be able to have a moment of time in both French worlds.

We carried the bags upstairs: Linens, lampshades, pots, pans, pillows, silverware, chairs...

 

Sacha is living and going to school in Paris (EICAR). He hadn't seen the apartment. His first impression was honest and helpful. He started with, "It has your mark..." then he added that I needed color or a least something white.

I loved he advice at first. But now I see it as work: What I should have done... 

It is more than okay as is. But now I see how it could've be better. 

As Sacha is taller than me, everyone is taller than me. He found most things in the house to be miniature. I had to remind him that he is a GIANT by French standards. At one point he lifted me up to his height and I saw the apartment from his view point...

Oh la la!

An Antique Map of Paris to Hang in the Bedroom

An antique map of Paris, I found another!

The first one I found I wall-papered to our bedroom wall in Provence.

The second one I sold.

The third one I framed and brought it to Paris to hang in the bedroom.

And the fourth one who knows...

You might think that finding these sorts of maps are easy. Nope! French antique maps of Paris like this one, Turgot, are not easy to find. I have been lucky, determined, and grateful.

 

 

French Husband is hanging the map as I type.

He knows if I hang the map, he will be a nervous wreck. He is factual, I am flighty. He is Mr. Detail when it comes to things like this, and I am fast, furious, and reckless. He will make twenty perfectly drilled holes since there are twenty frames. I on the other hand would make ten thousand and maybe two would be straight.

French Husband doesn't want a wall that looks gunshot.

 

 

Remember the barber stand that I found when we first started this renovation?  Well it is going to go in the bedroom. I added a pair of extra long grey candles.

 

 

 

French Husband's reflection in the barber stand's mirror caught my eye.  

Yes, the barber stand will stay in the bedroom.

I never knew that renovations could be...um...err... so sexy.

"Darn, I wish I had lite the candles. Candle light would have added to the photo." I giggled.

French Husband wasn't listening, instead he said, "I thought you told me the map was five across, and four down..."

I am in serious trouble. 

A leak, a fire, a second leak... that's nothing, but my miscalulating and adding that he didn't have to double check, equals a gunshot wall.

Oops.

 

 

Oh well, it will look pretty when all is said and done. 

And a few gunshots will add to the flavor of the story.

 

 

Related articles

But who wants to sleep while in Paris?

How to Carry a Chandelier in Paris

 

This is an odd looking photo.

Can you tell what it is?

Or what we are doing?

We, French Husband and I, carried a very large awkward thing that swayed side to side, clinging musically, under a white sheet.

We hiked down the forty steps of our apartment building, then walked steadily for ten minutes, carrying the awkward thing on a broom handle, to the electrician. 

 

 

It amazes me how everything we need seems to be located less than ten minutes or less (on foot), from our apartment.

I found someone to electrify the French antique monster chandelier. The woman, owner of the wonderfully charming, old time light shop, eyes widen when she said , "You weren't joking the other day when you said you had a large chandelier." 

When I handed her the bag of thirty three large antique crystals that need to be re-attached, she grabbed them and the chandelier as if it were feather light. Though my shoulder has a permanent indention from balancing the makeshift chandelier support just to prove that the monster weighed a ton!

 

 

Yes that is a paintbrush sticking out the side.

As IF we needed to draw more attention to ourselves as we walked down the Parisian street.

Why not add a paint brush?

Children passed by us, as if we were carrying an exotic animal.

Teenagers quickly walked by us as not to associated with us.

Young adults looked at us as if we were idiots, "Why not take a taxi?" (As if a taxi would take us for a one minute ride, with a chandelier. We tried that, duh!)

Adults gave us the thumbs up, for our humorous effort.

 

Add to the chandelier on a broom handle, covered with a sheet, held on by a paintbrush, carried by two crazies on the streets of Paris, I hummed the Beatles song:

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

 

 

Oh this wonderful adventure.

 

 

 

 

And to think in a ten days or so we have the pleasure of carrying it back home!

 

A Tad Bit of Boredom Would be a Welcoming Feeling

Ninth week.

I long for boredom, maybe that is too strong of a word. I long for nothing to do. No, that isn't true. I long for this project to be done. For the dust to go away. For everything to be in place. For no more surprises.

It is nearly there.

The other day when there was a leak in the bathroom, Regis and Yann opted to attack it by the way of the outer hallway, which is the stairwell. They balanced themselves between the stairs, the curve of the hallway, while working inside a teeny tiny space. Incredibly they found the leak with the first break they made in the outer wall. As this is an old building the walls are similar to the one we left standing in the entrance: Two hundred year old beams (recycling existed hundreds of years ago too.) were used with mortar and stones added in between. 

As they soldered the copper pipe, I happened to be showing the bathroom to two my blogging friend, Marilyn and Phyllis. Marilyn asked if it was mist coming from the lights, or dust, that it was an interesting effect. I had never seen the misty swirl before, I was mesmerized by it. Clever ambiance, romantic haman style. Though we came to our senses, realizing it was smoke! 

I shouted out to French Husband and Regis to come check it out. When they saw it they grabbed a bucket of water, raced back to the hallway, and threw it down the hole.

A fire had started. 

A bucket of water down the hole... talk about a leak! I thought out loud: A leak or a fire?

I kid you not, it has been the wildest adventure, in which I long for a tad bit of boredom.

Since the Apartment is on Rue du Chateau, Do You Think that is a Good Name for the Apartment?

Maybe change the name of my blog too!?

I won't.

But I love the name: Rue du Chateau, Street of the Chateau.

 

The bathroom sink: Found the top part, a marble holy water font at a brocante in April. The base is a garden stand, new, made out of some modern fiber whatever. The lights I found at a second hand store in Paris. French Husband rewired them.

 

 

 

The arm to the man.

Pure muscle;

Talented.

art in motion.

 

 

Large gilded oval frame with a charcoal drawing of a young girl.

It is sitting on the kitchen counter, a safe place. I bought it at an antique shop in Paris a few weeks ago. That is why it is hanging out instead of in a safe place.

The kitchen has a small counter with a stove top and large sink (no dishwasher).

Alongside of it there is an island.

Modern meets old. I surprised myself with the desire to renovate the apartment with a twist towards modern, masculine and dark.

 

 

Working in the bedroom on a makeshift table.

I begged to keep the old stone steps.

The patine ... years of glue, use, dirt, soiled.. not pretty, but I find them appealing, earthy, real. I am going to wax them. Like I said I pleaded to keep them.

 

Bathroom tiles meet the living room floor.

A sneak peek.

We have a hundred details to deal with.

Rue du Chateau, the workers house turned into a little dream.

The Countdown 10, 9, 8, 7....

The countdown of our apartment renovation is in its final stages. The place is coming together. Walls torn down, lead pipes removed, electricity rewired, radiator pipes changed, the bathroom completely refurbished, the floors leveled and replaced, the walls painted... 

It has been a ton of work. Mind-boggling amount of work. 

My husband is NOT a handyman, nor is this his line of work, and yet he has been a superman! Impressive, handsomely strong and has not grumbled. Super sexy I must add.

I have been the Gopher (Go For Girl). I have learned many new French words regarding hardware. Don't know if I will use them again. But I have loved go for-ing this, that and the other. I have discovered our neighborhood in a new way by being the Gopher Girl.

 

Fireworks and champagne that is how we are going to celebrate.

Regis the boss. The Man who knows how to do every thing (cooks and loves the brocante too) and is fazed by nothing, he amazes me everyday. Calm, reflective, open to new ideas, creative, hardworking and fast, real fast, scary fast.

There is nothing he cannot do.

The project has had its hiccups (lead pipes) it has had its surprises (electricity not grounded, old building with clay pipes...) had its set backs: Uneven floors and the metal security front door that wouldn't shut properly... Regis takes it in stride, calls on his Gopher Girl and gets his team cracking. 

He works with flip flops and no safety gear. Crazy scary, and nothing I can say will change his work habits.

I have learned several new slang words. It cracks him up when I utter them in the most appropriate moments. My favorite one of his is: "Un Grand Malade," which is "You're Sick!"

 

 

Tomorrow we start on the kitchen! I am so excited. The kitchen is something I can bite my teeth into. 

What I have learned in this renovation experience is that rarely does anything go smoothly, a hiccup or bump in the road often appears. I guess when you are working in an apartment building that dates back a couple hundred years, and has materials that are sometimes older than that you can expect the unexpected. 

The kitchen should go smoothly, the pipes, electricity, gas, water, etc. is completed. But who knows, maybe a cake will appear in the oven!

 

 

One of the words I have learned is, "Plinthe" which means, "baseboards". I painted 30 of them today.

If you would like to see what floor we are using click here: Arten Pecan.

Paint color for cupboard: Luxen Mammouth.

Window and door hardware: Languedoc / Nevers

More details to come.

 

 

The Wooden Panels - Renovating with old things

 

The renovation of our apartment is moving into its last week. Hopefully by next weekend it will be ready for the interior decorating stage. I am antsy for that part, but I cannot get ahead of myself, first things first-- the structure.

When we started this renovation we had planned to tear down three walls. Creating a larger kitchen and a smaller second bedroom. But when we found the old wooden beam structure we decided to ditch the first plan, and renovate the wooden structure, by taking it back to its original skeleton. In France most buildings and homes are made with stone, or cement blocks. In the older buildings wooden structure like the one in our apartment can be found, stones and mortar where added in between the beams.

In keeping the old wooden structure we had to change our plan. Hence gave up the second bedroom and made it into a kitchen.

The wooden structure separates the entrance from the open kitchen living space.

 

 

   Add to the excitment I found a pair of wooden panels at the Portes de Vanves brocante. They are about three meters long.

I had no idea what I was going to do with them, but I knew something good would be figured out. 

As soon as the panels were carried into the house my mother in law, had a brllant idea: To put them above the wooden structure, one on each side, boar.

 

One panel on each side of the structure.

We had to plaster the top part because there was a gap between ceiling and the structure. Tomorrow we will sand and paint the plaster part that we added.

Painting in Paris (And a perfectly fixed tooth)

For those of you who have read my blog for sometime you know I have a thing for wall papering and painting. My method is madness. Usually, I paint with a sock and fall off ladders. Not funny. Though the end result (broken wrist not included) pleases me.

The other day at a brocante shop not far from our apartment I found two small chandeliers, perfect for other side of the bathroom sink. 

As they were a reddish horrible gold color I decided to paint them charcoal grey. I attached them to the barber stand that I found at Porte Vanves, because I had nothing else to hang them on. 

I delicately painted around the crystals. Such a pleasure to paint... I feel silly saying I paint: It reminds me when people says they cook, but really they are just heating food. I guess I should say I add color, because painting imples much more than what I do.

 

 

The barber stand made for a dandy painting easel of sorts. I hooked the two chandeliers on the candlestick holders, and put the paint can on the shaving shelf that goes around the stand. The French dark grey paint is LUXENS brand, mat... I'll tell you the color tomorrow because the paint can is at the apartment, and I am at the hotel covered in a color I don't know the name of.

 

 

 

I should have done a before and after. But that is so not in the mind set of a spontaneous sock painter like me. French Husband obliged in taking photos for me. 

I miss taking photos with my camera, I have been using the camera on my cell phone, not the same. Though the idea of lugging my camera in the dusty, crowded, work site has been something I have not been willing to deal with.

The pair of chandeliers are about fifteen inches by ten inches. I have not seen many of them around.

 

 

Do you remember the French trumeau fragment (Trumeau is a 18th century (or style of) mirror that is usually placed above a fireplace. The mirror is framed, and above the mirror is either a carved design or a painting.) that I found? Well I painted it too, and had it encased above the bathroom door though it isn't finished yet...

 

 

The apartment is starting to look more like I envisioned it and less like how it was when we first arrived five weeks ago.

We hope it will be done next week.

.... Regarding my tooth, my back molar, it chipped. The dentist was wonderful, shorts and tenny shoes included. I was covered in paint and very dusty. I thought, "Why change?" She is comfortable in shorts, and I am comfortable in my paint.

The young dentist completely fixed my tooth for 64 Euros! I love French medical care. So if you need a dentist while in France, I know of one!

Coup de Coeur...

 

 

What was I to do when I saw the large chandelier dripping with crystals?

Only one thing came to mind: Lick it up.

I suppose that is how it is when you see something that goes straight to your heart, or as they say in France: "A coup de coeur"... A 'coup de coeur' is when you fall instantly in love with something and have to have it regardless if you need it, or have room. It is without hesitation that the person buys the dress because it sparks something within them that they cannot control.

I had a coup de coeur!

I asked the dealer if he could bring it to the aparment in Paris, he told me he could for a small fee and a cold bottle of water.

The deal was sealed. 

 

 

Today I asked French Husband to hold up the chandelier so I could see if it would work where I had in mind.

Instantly Regis (the renovator) Yann (the French Husband) and my mother in law (Belle Mere) gave their biggest groans:

"Oh it is too big, for the small space!"

"The ceiling won't support it!"

"You're mad, its too long, people will be staring into it." 

Then and there I realized at last what my cousin Doug tried to explain to me years ago when we bought our home and had big plans to renovate it: "Renovations are aggressive. That is why some people never renovate their homes."

Instead of listening to them, and stuffing the heavy chandelier back in its dusty box....

I blurted, "No, its staying and you will have to find a way that the ceiling will support it." 

Renovating can be fun, and stressful, and aggressive. Today it wasn't fun.

The Chandelier is staying. I hope the ceiling does not fall in. 

 

 

 

 

Paris Bound

 

 

Early this morning we headed for Paris

with the truck loaded for the last part of the renovation.

Eight hours on the freeway, quiche, ice cream bars, the radio, French Husband and the handy iphone to blog from. 

 

 

The next trip to Paris will have truck load of furniture... I can hardly wait for that moment!

Brocante finds verses shirt less men, hope you won't be disappointed in the brocante.

French Husband teasingly pushed his bicep up with his other hand? I looked at him as if to say, "What are you doing?"

He can be so goofy at times... I prefer goofy to serious.

 

 

 

Going back and forth from Marseille to Paris, Paris to Marseille as much as we have in these last few weeks gives ample room for reflection. Some trips seem to pass by quickly, and others seem endlessly long.

I have thought about friends, family, people I love, friends I miss... My mom, and dad, Shelley, Annie, Thierry... Willows.

And I have thought about these last twenty five years in France. Much has changed, Paris has changed, I have changed...

I always thought I would go back to Willows one day to live... but as my children create their lives and eventually add roots I find myself standing in the same place as I have stood for years... divided. As they say in France about expats: A foot in each land. Now I feel my heart and soul in two lands as well.

When marrying my husband and moving to France I expected it would be a challenge: The culture, language, distance... but I did not think about the long term consequences of my actions. Love has a way of blooming goodness, making anything sound possible. 

I do not regret following love. But I can say homesickness has never left my side either.

The Paris apartment renovation has stirred the deep pot of memories, the long drive back and forth has given room for such memories to spread out. 

We lived in Paris for the first few years of our married life. Chelsea was conceived in Paris. We have been back many times over the twenty five years... but living in Paris and visiting Paris, even though I live in France is not the same. 

Memories stirred. Happiness bubbling, melancholy standing by my side, a free for all as emotions come to say hi and stick around. 

 

 

Add endless fields of harvest... How could I not think about my family in Willows.

Heart Land.

Farms.

A seed planted.

Our seed planted in Paris years ago, comes to harvest.

I stand on fertile ground, I should rejoice, I am rejoicing... while my other foot makes patterns in the soil.

 

Love as you know has no limits, and where it will take us is on journey to wholeness-

 

 

 

The road ahead.

Paris bound.

Where are you heading?

The Bathroom Tiles, The Paris Apartment is starting to shape up!

 

Preparing the foundation.

 

Grey marble tiles, that are pre attached by a mesh on the back side.

I bought and the box said, black marble tiles, but they were grey instead.

Oh well.

 

Pre measuring, making a plan, tagging the tiles for the shower base lay out.

We used a WEDI Italian shower base.

 

 

 

Dark grey mortar was used for the joints.

 

 

 

Sponging off the excess.

 

 

The drain works. 

Remember we had to replace the clay piping with new piping. 

 

 

Letting it cure.

The bathroom floor will be the same type of tiles.

 

Click on the links below to find out more:

 

Laying tiles.

 

Marble tiles at Leroy Merlin.

 

Wedi Shower base.

 

Want to see more photos and find addresses to places in France? Follow me on Facebook.

 

But who wants to sleep while in Paris?

 

Last Sunday I went to St Ouen, the largest antique flea market in the world, to find some things for the apartment. I had my list:

Two or three doors.

A chandelier, or sconces for the bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen.

A low round table.

A base for the bathroom sink.

A bed head.

And as the saying goes when you want something you cannot find it, and when you aren't looking for it, it licks your face. I tried a reverse finding method and pretended I wasn't looking for the things I had listed. But all that did was distract my attention as I started looking at other things. I am easily distracted when it comes to antiques.

A day bed in worn-greenish-grey velvet and a gilded frame. The day bed would make an unpractical, uncomfortable sofa. Since the apartment has one bedroom I have been told that I should have a couch that makes into a bed for extra guests. I agreed with the sayers of such an idea. BUT to myself, I silently yelled, "Yuck! Sofas are not old, nor unpractical or uncomfortable." 

I think an old sofa is a way to go. 

Air mattress to the rescue when need be.

 

 

The decoy ducks in the iron urn caught my eye. Loved the originality of the decoys instead of flowers. I snapped a photo with my iphone. Later when I was on the bus coming back to the hotel I looked through my photos, and noticed the door behind the urn... Quack! Those decoys really fooled me. 

Mid day I abandoned the idea that I should pretend not to pay attention to my list.

 

 

 

The most lovely hand carved wooden clock face stared at me. Reminding me that time is ticking and I better get a move on to finding the needed things otherwise I will have to resort to NEW things. 

The kitchen is new, the bathroom in new, the floors are new... those things I agreed on for practicality, fuctionality, user friendly-ness... more so for cost and labor. Choices. It is all about choices. 

Today we unwrapped the tiles for the bathroom. Rough black marble is what it said on the box, and what we thought we ordered. Though inside the box was grey marble tiles.

We bought them months ago, when we thought the project would start in April. Too late to take them back, and too late to order new ones.

Choices. Grey is fine. Not perfect, but neither is my weight. Not something to be upset over... but if they had been yellow well I would have screamed, thrown up and I don't know what!

 

 

 

An antique armchair and stool covered in old rough linen, nail studded around the edges. I have seen this for the last ten years and I never grow tired of the look.

 

 

 

A plaster fragment from the top of a mirror.

Loved it. 

Walked on.

When you live in France and have as many brocantes around as there are, you learn to walk on or start a business.

I do a little of both. Mostly walk on. If I bought everything I saw I would have to have an orchard of money growing trees in my pocket and shirtless men driving trucks following me. Shirtless men or forget it!

 

 

 

Not on my list.

Not.

Walked on. 

Taking photos help.

 

A pair of iron statues holding lanterns. I am not sure of their age. But they sure were dandy.

So very decorative.

 

 

 

But this was my favorite, a potter's table with a column head.

It would have filled the bedroom. Who needs a bed!

It would have filled the kitchen! It is a table! Who needs a place to eat, err dine?

It would have filled the living room! But who wants to sleep while in Paris?

Choices are such a thrill kill!

I came home empty handed, and surprisingly very pleased that I didn't succumb to buying what wasn't on my list. 

Monday Never Looked Better

 

How is you Monday panning out? Oh mine, well, the same ole same ole. Hanging out in a dusty place in Paris with a bunch of half nude men. Could be worse, but I don't know how.

I wish I had a proper chair, sitting on the radiator kind of hurts if you know what I mean.

The floor is done, the floor boards will be added later.

 

 

As I watched the trio doing their thing, I thought about changing my mind.

I thought if blurting out, "Let's rip it out and keep the original floors! My brother Mat thinks hard wood is the only way to go!"

The floor alone will cost 2100 Euros (not including the work) for 50 square meters. Hard wood floors would have cost 7000 Euros and it was not the top of the line.

So my thought was... not your main house. Stop.

But today I thought, "Ripping it out would mean seeing these guys doing their thing ... longer.

I could so take the word longer for a ride, but I will keep my blog clean and nice.

 

 

Yann took the truck back last week, and he will bring the third load next week.

I am missing him.

Missing him.

Missing him.

 

Photo via Ma Cocotte, restaurant at the Flea Market in Paris.

The words above are tender endearments such as we would say, Honey, Darling, Sweetheart, Babe... In French (in order) the words literally are:

my flea -- ma puce,

my rabbit -- mon lapin,

my doe -- ma biche,

mon chou -- ma cabbage,

ma poule -- my chicken,

ma caille -- my quail,

ma cocotte -- my casserole (seriously!).

 

I call French Husband, Cherie FM, after a French radio channel, with the same name, that he listens to.

 

Yesterday, Chelsea and I went to the brocante in St Ouen. It was Chelsea's first time. From what she said she liked at the flea market, I would claim her to be true to her generation, "Mid century modern."

We had lunch here: Ma Cocotte, mid century modern.

 

 

Cherie FM come back.

Guys rip out the floor for my brother Mat.

Chelsea does this mean when I die you are going to put our house in a yard sale?

I got to stop writing my blog at night after a glass of wine.

What do you call your loved one?

Paris Apartment Renovation Continues

 

Floor details. Oh la. French Husband told me that the apartment did not have hard wooden floors. He told me that when he bought the apartment (thirty years ago) he had grey carpet put in because the floors weren't nice. 

He was 21 at the time, so I will forgive him for not knowing that the floors were hard wood and very nice.

Unfortunately, we discovered the hard wooden floors too late in the plan. When we pulled the carpet back we saw them... to keep the floors would have meant another delay and more money. Both weren't an option right now.

The floors though lovely, needed a tremendous amount of work. Plus from the walls to the center of the room the floors sagged over four inches. We decided to build up from the old wooden floor. We protected the old wooden floor (in case some day someone wants to take it back to its roots), then ran small beams and mounted them with cement to secure their place, on top of the beams we added compressed board panels.

I say "We"... but all I do is run for errands: Buy things at the hardware stores that I can barely pronounce, and take photos of shirtless men.

 

 

The cooper pipes and electrical wires run underneath the raised floor. 

Walking around the apartment is like dancing bamboo jump sticks. 

Not easy.

 

 

 

Dancing bamboo jump sticks.

Hard work.

Florent listens sometimes to rap/hip hop music. The other day he asked me, "Corey, you know the words because they are in English?" I told him I did, but I wasn't going to translate.

He understood why.

 

 

Regis the leader of the pack, has worked with French Husband for over twenty years. We brought our own team to Paris to do the renovation. Yes, it has been costly (hotels, trains, taking the truck back and forth from Marseille to Paris...) but far less costly if we had hired a team in Paris. Plus we work well together, there I go again with the "we" factor. 

 

Regis is a one man brilliant machine! He knows how to do everything. We do not need to wait for anyone. He knows everything there is to know about construction, electricity, concrete, welding, plumbing... and he loves antiques and knows how to cook. I wonder if he can dance?

He is very good at dancing between the jumpsticks as I call them.

And yes he smokes. It is not a crime.

 

 

After the small boards were measured, balanced and cemented to the old floor, the large compressed panels were carried up two flights of stairs. 

 

The compressed boards were measured and cut to fit on a makeshift work table.

 

 

The apartment, though good size by Paris standards, is not big enough to hold everything that it takes to do a job. Things are constantly being moved around, or brought up from the truck when need be. Work station are made and taken down within minutes. 

I must admit I have heard Regis say certain "mots argot" slang words, and one in particular that I like to tease him about. In English it is "break your balls", but in French it is a bad word/expression to say.

I literally cannot pronounce the French slang word for balls. Which doesn't matter as I do not need to say it anyway. 

 

 

 

 The compressed wooden panels fit together perfectly.

 

 

 

Admiration. Gratitude. Hard work. Shirtless men. Hot Paris days.

                     A dream project coming true. 

 

Monday the apartment will be painted. Then the bathroom will be tiled, followed by the kitchen set up. It looks like the construction will end in two weeks. Then the "we" that I am will start the interior design/decorating. 

 

 

The Basement: Underground Paris

 

Most buildings in France have basements. We went to check out ours. Wow. It was straight out of a movie.  

Dark, damp, steep spiral stone staircase and vaulted. We share it with three tenants. Each has their own room in the basement.

French Husband lead the way, followed by his mother, I was last, scary place to be last. French Husband had the only flashlight. So either I stayed close or got lost.

Yes, that is my spry Belle Mere in her pretty silk dress and carrying a purse. Always fashionable even when going to check out the basement. 

 

 

 

 

Though our apartment building is about two hundred years old, the basement is older. French Husband thinks maybe it is 16th century. I said,"If you added a Princess, and a dragon we could be a "Disneyland's Dungeon".

 

 

 

 

In the middle of the basement, with French Husband leading he yelled, "Rat!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I didn't know where to run or climb as it was dark.

He thought he was funny. I thought, "I'll get you my pretty!"

We didn't see any rats, and it was too dark to see if there were any rat droppings.

 

 

 

 

Two passages stem from the bottom of basement's main room.

Either way the basement the basement is full of junk. Except in the corner there was one very large stone. A carved stone. Maybe one they didn't need when they were building long ago....

I hope we can use it at the base of the bathroom sink. French Husband cleaned the entire basement out with a crew today. He saved the stone.

 

 

Pretty cool isn't it?!

Men at Work

As our apartment is on a corner we have windows on two sides. The advantage is a steady stream of light. On one corner is a bakery with a nineteen century hand painted glass ceiling. On the other corner Ton Ton, a neighborhood cafe that we frequent for drinks, it also serves lunch and dinner. Its speciality is tartares, it is packed out every evening. Hence, we rarely have meals there.

On the other corner is an Italian restaurant: Il Gallo Nero, that is delicious: Spinach pine nut pesto is one of my favorites.

Under our apartment is a well known butcher. Across the street there is a laundromat, a tailor, a handmade gift / dress shop, a bar, a bistro, a pharmacy, a couple of flower shops, several grocers, a fish monger, a post office, a puzzle maker, a key-smith, you might say our neighborhood is lively, authentic, hasn't changed much.

 

While the work is going on we are staying in a hotel, two minutes away by foot, from the apartment that has a view of a courtyard. A rarity in Paris. Though in the 14 eme, the area of Paris that the neighborhood we live in, there are plenty of side streets and court yards. 

Inexpensive, clean, unprentenious hotels: Under 90 dollars a night for two people.

We are staying at Hotel Pernety. 

 

 

Admiring Paris.

Nannister asked me in the comment section:

"How do the neighbors deal with all this?"

On the ground floor there is a butcher, he doesn't mind. On the second floor the neighbor works during the day, so she doesn't mind. Above us the neighbor's are on vacation, so they don't mind. 

Annie asked me:

"What will you do about storage and closet space, Corey?" 

Good question. Armoires. Dressers. Cupboards. Hooks.

Pack light, live with less?

 

 

Preparing the stone wall to hang a door. The stone wall will be covered with plaster board. 

 

 

Chiseling.

 

The workers do not mind me taking photos.

They work while I take photos without them knowing of it most of the time.

 

 

Such a hard job I have.

 

 

 

Today I had to go find and buy flexible metal corner tape, because we ran out of it. I went to the neighborhood plumber shop where I bought a plastic pipe piece the other day, and asked him where I could find the tape. Amazingly, the flexible metal corner tape was at a painting/plastering shop next door. All within five minutes of the apartment.

 

 

The man at the Painting/Plastering counter teased, "I love how you say flexible metal corner tape in French, your accent is charming." I said, "I can say it with a Marseillaise accent too?" He laughed out loud. Flirting in France is fun. 

Taking photos is even more fun.

 

As soon as I can figure out how to show the floor plan I will show it. If you have any questions regarding the project I will try my best to answer them.

 

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Plaster, Lead Pipes and a Bomb Threat

 

Today was about the radiator. The old pipes (the main valve was in lead) were removed, new copper ones will be added.

We were late today as the train had a bomb threat. 

I didn't know that there was a bomb threat until I arrived in Paris. Such a nice welcoming feeling.

All is well, except for the lead pipes. 

 

 

The entrance of the apartment has ugly mosaic flooring. Its going. This is the amazing amount of cable, like a snake, running through out the apartment.

50 square meters is roughly 539 square feet.

Can you imagine six men last week worked inside. Two carried debris (five tons) down stairs, one carried a few tons upstairs, two knocked down walls, one bagged the debris to be carried downstairs, and one crazy girl tried to take photos. Though most the time the girl was in awe of the precision, muscles, and trying to protect her camera from the amazing amount of dust.

Yes we wore mask, sometimes.

 

 

Making plaster was today's agenda. No nails.

 

 

Plastering the alcove. 

Finding the alcove made the kitchen move to another area.

Flexible is another word for change of plans.

 

 

Still life.

 

 

Tools all over the place.

 

 

The electrical and water counter are inside of the apartment, in the entrance.

 

 

The base boards, came through the front door, then they stuck them out the window to get a good angle to put them into the living room.

Cozy.

You got to like one another on this sort of project or quit.

 

 

The base boards, or support boards that will run under the floor boards. Does that make sense?

 

 

My mother in law (Belle Mere) came today to add to the merriment of the tiny space.

This is a water valve.

 

 

 

We took down the only closet in the apartment, to add the kitchen.

Choices.

Clothes or food.

Easy choice for the guys who work half naked....

 

 

It is hard for me not to organize and clean up the place. But then that would ruin their rhythm and structure.

I will add a floor plan tomorrow.

If you want to see more photos follow me on FACEBOOK by clicking here.

The Paris Apartment: What You Want to See... Show and Tell (18th century Nail Winners Too)

How lucky am I that you are as enthusiastic about the renovation of our Paris apartment as I am. Thank you! How lucky you are that you are not covered in dust and dirt, and can watch at a distance. I am not working... just watching too, but the dust and dirt, know no bounds.

 

The photo above is part of the bathroom.

The Pink Arrow: Shows the black and white 1980s linoleum flooring. It looks far prettier in this photo then it does in real life. I thought about buying black and white tiles, but I already bought grey stone tiles. I cannot imagine having the workers carrying them downstairs, taking them back, and bringng up the other tiles. So the 1980s linoleum flooring is not going to happen. 

The Green Arrow: When the wall tiles where taken off we found the original old plaster painting, which goes around the entire bathroom and is about about five feet high.

 

 

Even with the knick marks, from chiseling off the 1980s tiles, it was appealing. I especially liked how it looked against the black and white checked floor. Many of you asked if we were going to keep it. But given that I bought the grey stones tiles, let alone the shower tiles etc... and given how long it would take to restore the wall, making it easier to manage, we decided that some things can be changed and others cannot. Had I known what I know now it could have been done differently. Though one never knew until it was torn open.

 

 

The Red Arrow shows the PVC plastic piping, that we are using to replace the clay piping (terre cuite) that was there. The clay piping was encased in the (Yellow Arrows) 18th century stone wall and snuggled under the supporting beams. It was a delicate work to remove the old piping and replace it with new piping.

The main pipe that goes down to the basement and then the main sewer drain is in iron. 

 

 

Yellow Arrow: Months ago I found the 19th century hand carved marble holy water font at a brocante that happens twice a year in Barjac (Links on my blog are high-lighted words. If you click on any of the high-lighted words it will take you to another site/page to explain, or show you more.)

The marble holy water font weighs more than me, and it looks so good! Just goes to show me it is all about packaging.

 

 

 

(The Red Arrow: Under the plaster walls are the eighteen century walls. Large beams in criss-cross pattern, then stone and mortar filled and attached with small boards.)

 

 

Brother Mat asked to see female construction workers. 

Dear Bro Mat, You really want to see me?

 

 

(Removing rubble, the only pure plaster wall in the apartment. Came down opening the two little rooms into one large room.)

I thought we would have a chute that the workers could dump the debris into. But the sidewalk/street below is too narrow for a dumpster. I feel for these guys!

 

The Pink Arrow: A few weeks after I found the marble font, I found a column at Truffaut, a chain garden shop in France. It was the perfect size, shape, patina and it was solid enough to hold the marble font. Yesterday, one of the workers cut it as it was too high to use as a column for the holy water font to be transformed into a sink. And you won't believe what happened... he cut the column too short! He felt badly about it... I don't know what we will do to render the problem. It is what it is... either we use it as is: Too short, or ditch it, or find a solution. I was sad a little, but it wasn't worth getting upset over.

 

The walls unfortunately, will be covered with sheet rock. Gasp!

 

 

The cast iron radiators will be repainted. There are five in the apartment. We will replace the one in the bathroom. The copper piping and wiring was removed (and recycled) to make room for new copper piping and wiring.

The golden box is full of cookies from the Aux Fruits d'Eden, an Algerian bakery a block away from the apartment. Ramadan started this week. Sammy is French Algerian. Because he is Muslim he is fasting from sunrise to sunset. No food, no water, from four in the morning until ten thirty-ish in the evening for a month. I gave him a box of homemade pastries to take back to the hotel and feast on after dinner... 10:30 in the evening! We do not eat nor drink in the apartment, none of us, due to Sammy's faith. Imagine construction work, in the summer and fasting? He never complains and always smiles. 

 

The Random Winners (please email with your address so I can send you a nail.) 

Thank you for the delightful and interesting comments! You my dear readers make the blog more interesting when you leave a comment. Thank you!

 

1) Cindy Fazio

2) [email protected]

3) Linda H.

4) Tina

5) Dawn Fleming

6) Sandy Austin

7) Patti Lloyd wrote: 

"A hunk that loves the Brocante? I don't suppose he cooks too?" Guess what he does! He owned a restaurant in Marseille that is how we met him twenty five years ago."

8) Wanda Decker

9) Marlis

10) Peggy Braswell

11) Michele Waits is the winner of the larger nail.

12) Will be nailed to the apartment wall as a reminder of this post and project.

 

What Do You Really Want to See?

What do you really want to see on our construction site in Paris? I am asking you this, because I am certain that my brother Mat (who is a designer of homes and such, and a very good one at that!) would love to see the details of the actual construction. The dirty little details of how it is done in France. The ins and outs of how it takes place.

He would like to see photos like the one above: Our apartment is on the third floor. It is on the corner of two busy streets. One of the streets has only one lane. The FIVE tons of debris had to be sacked and carried downstairs. We hired a crew to do it, because in Paris dumbing/recycling debris is extremely difficult to do due to rules and regualtions.

Then the delivery truck came and left everything in the middle of the sidewalk. Yann (French Husband) Regis (the boss) Sammy and Florent carried the THREE tons upstairs.

That my folks is what I call a YO-YO project, up and down, up and down and moving stuff all around to make room in a 500 square foot apartment to be renovated.

A shower never felt so good.

Brother Mat, I am not making this shit (as you would say) up.

 

 

 

So back to the original question... What do you really want to see? 

Brother Mat, this blue ladder is for you curiosity.

We do things differently in France.

 

 

A cupboard full of copper wiring and pipes. To be recycled.

Next time you see this cupboard it will have dishes in it.

 

 

Regis replaced the terre cuite piping in the bathroom with PVC or plastic piping.

On the other side of the wall is the occupants/common stairwell. 

Chiseling slowly, stick and stones and no broken bones.

 

But what do you really want to see?

 

The happy faces of bare chested young men.

And Yes, Brother Mat, they work like this.

I told them what you said about the safety gear, and they said,

"In France we do it differently."

How, ladies am I to keep calm and carry on with those teasing two?

 

 

Umm, er, a... 

Two young men carrying wood panels upstairs.

I only took photos to prove to my Brother Mat that they do work with out shirts, gloves, hard hats and protective goggles.

And I must say that as much as I love renovating and working on this project, photos of ladders, debris, big trucks, and tools isn't that fun... but throw a guy in there without a shirt, really brings the project to a new level. A glistening hunk will never lose to a bucket of nails.

What do you really want to see? 

 

OH and I have a bunch of very old nails (1700s-1820s).

SO I am giving more away.

Tell me what you would like to see regarding the Paris apartment project, and or leave a comment on yesterday's post about the nails. I will randomly pick several winners tomorrow.

Also if you want to see more photos and details, follow me on Facebook by clicking here.

You Never Know What You Will Find

You never know what you will find when you are renovating an apartment in Paris. Our apartment is in a small building that has three apartments, and a butcher shop on the bottom floor. The building has been around for over two centuries. The only things that are left to remind us that it is over two hundred years old is when we start taking walls apart, or redoing the plumbing, or change a door... The only way we would know was when we looked beyond the surface.

Regis, the mason (renovator) and our friend for over twenty years told me, "Corey make a plan, but be ready to discover something you hadn't expected and be willing to change gears."

Yann, French Husband, told me, "When I renovate a building, and they are all old, I expect the unexpected, the element of surprise, the beauty under the beast (Okay, I added that part, he didn't say that.) but I do not change. I stick with the plan. Otherwise, it would be too costly considering time and money. So don't ask me what I would do, because I would say stick with the plan. Just do what you think it best when the surprises come."

 

When the first wall came down I gasped..."Oh no! Look at that wood! Look at that structure!" I had to admire it. I had to. I guess that is because I am new at this renovating old places game. Yann, Regis and his workers, looked at me with that "She is wet behind the ears" kind of look.

The wall came down. 

 

 

Tools of the trade. 

Because when renovating an old building in Paris, you will find stone, and a ton of it.

If you go too fast, or too hard the entire building would fall in. 

I admired Regis as his hands danced with precision and perfect aim. Stone broke into rock, and they flew right and left.

 

 

Regis pulled a nail out, handed it to me, "Your diamond."

I was so pleased, I hugged him. 

Isn't it incredible?

Hand forged iron.

 

When the second wall started to come down I had to say, "Stop!"

I couldn't stand it. I had to rethink the plan. Change gears. I had to save the wall. I had to expose the nails....

And so the Paris apartment plan changed gears within the first few hours.

Regis grinned, "I expected you would change it."

I guess he knows me well, which is a good thing. Regis took me aside and teased, "I would do the same thing." 

You see Regis loves the brocante too.

 

 

The French Hunks, I mean the renovators, saving the old frame.

It will be exposed.

 

 

A ton of work.

Done with class,

and sex appeal.

and wonder.

If you would like to see more of the apartment unfolding, follow me on FACEBOOK by clicking here.

 

If you would like to win an 18th century French nail, tell me so in the comment section. I will pick a random winner tomorrow.

 

 

Countdown to the Paris Apartment Project

Over thirty years ago an apartment was bought in Paris by a young man of 22 with a vision. He convinced his mother that it was a good investment, she believed him and bought three more.

Nearly two years ago we started toying with the idea of having a place in Paris, and renting it out a few weeks of the year to help cover renovation cost.

This year we found out that our daughter and son would both be living in Paris. The idea we were toying with become number one in our agenda.

Who likes being far away from the ones they love? I know from experience that it is an awful feeling that doesn't go away. 

 

 

 

For the last several months, I have been to plenty of hardware, kitchen, bathroom, painting, fabric, flooring, and lighting, shops than I could not possibly recall. 

I have wavered little in what I have thought best for the renovation.

Quality, cost and appealing were my objectives, with a big (!) emphasis on antiques.

I measured, calculated, often remeasured and often dreamed up ideas while sleeping in the car.

At last July 8th is the starting date. As I typed that I realized that the date has been pushed back more than several times. But, I honestly believe that this time it is going to happen... and I am so excited.

The builder, or renovator, has worked for French Husband for twenty years. It is a good thing he is who he is, otherwise I might be mad at him from all the times he has changed the dates.

 

 

 

The hardest part for me hasn't been waiting, no that is not true, I wish it was done already! Other than that hiccup that hardest part has been selecting a paint color. I am not good when it comes to picking wall colors. For those of you who have been reading my blog for...ever, you know how I paint... with a sock in hand and several batches of colors.

I think taupe-ish.

I am so not daring.

 

 

 

Oh remember the Paris map I found at the brocante and wallpapered to my bedroom wall? Well I found another! My Belle Mere (mother in law) and I framed it, it will hang in the bedroom in Paris.

How cool is that?

 

 

This is a blurry reflection of the Paris Map. The mirror was meant for the Paris apartment, but it is growing roots in our house. Has that ever happened to you? Where you buy something for someone, a present let's say, and then you decide to keep it?

Oh well the Paris apartment could end up empty with an air mattress and paper towels. 

Remember when I asked you, my blog readers to give me idea / tips for renovating and setting up the Paris apartment? Well, I have kept every idea close. A checklist you might say.

Some ideas you wrote I have to repost today, because I still love them:

I had a good chuckle when BW Clark wrote, "Maybe a kitten. I know it isn't feasible, but still, that makes me feel happy and safe."

 Trisha pointed out, "...As someone who travels about 200 days a year and has for the last 15+ years. Live in the apartment for a couple of days. Sleep in the beds, use the kitchen and then you will know what works and what doesn’t. SO often I wonder if anyone actually every tries out the arrangements in their hotels or B&Bs. Switches on bedside lamps that can’t be reached without actually getting out of bed or no bedside lamp at all. Towel racks you can’t reach form the shower, etc., etc. Use the apartment for a couple of days to work out those kinks. Bonne chance!"

My Belle Mere and I, are planning to do just that. We might never leave.

Suzy Meek Geere's comment sounds right up my alley,

"Maybe (you can have) lovely decorative pieces, with a price tag!" 

French Husband chimmed in, "Corey you cannot do that? The apartment might be empty every time someone leaves."

"I know! Wouldn't that be fun! Then I could go to the brocante all day long and re do the apartment all the time."

French Husband walked away.

I hollered after him, "Hey it beats trying to find a sexy Parisian fireman, that is what someone wrote they wanted!!"

He didn't turn around.

 

The word from the renovator is that the apartment will be ready in September. 

Yes, you calculated that right, the renovator thinks he and his crew can completely renovate the apartment (50 some square meters 500 square feet) in four to five weeks. But I am adding an extra month just to be safe.

 

 

Early this year I had a weekend giveaway for the Paris Apartment, the winners were:

The Randomly Picked out of a mixing bowl Winners are:

Amylia

Tedee Grace

Jend'isère 

Petra Leaford

Mom of Five

Kit

Please let me know when you can come, anytime after September looks good.

 

Monday, Monday.

I cannot wait to hear the bang boom bash! Hopefully, the whole apartment won't fall down when the wall hits the ground. Of course that won't happen. 

I will take many before and after photos.

Ugly Duckling transfomation.

 

Had I known I would have bought this zinc window years ago.

Oh well.

At least Yann (French Husband) had the foresight for a future dream that is coming true.

Project Paris, Grr Grapefruit!

 

"Grrrr, Grapefruit!" that is how I taught the two little neighbor boys, who come to my house for English lessons, the word grapefruit. I am not sure they know it is a fruit. Since I growled, "Grr" a long time before saying grapefruit. At least they are pronouncing the G.R. sound perfectly.

You see while given an English lesson this morning, the contractor called to say he had to delay our Paris apartment project again! Since March he has been delaying the project.

He added, "We will start work mid July." 

 

Compared to most problems in the world, a delayed project is nothing to get flustered about. It doesn't even compare to our friend who struggles with his illness every moment of the day..

It is easier to express frustration over something less complicated, than expressing the depth of frustration and sadness regarding our friend's illness. It is easier to get upset about nothing than tackle the issue at hand. That is not to say we aren't aware, or dealing with the sadness of our friend. We are. But that doesn't make it go away or easier to hold.

 

 

We are holding on, holding our friend, holding each other... and this hiccup, this phone call stating yet another delay to our planned Paris project, can be seen as an avenue to release a little tension.

We should see it as a good thing.

We really should.

So instead of blowing a gasket (As my Father would say.) I growled, "Grr grapefruit!"

And the little boys giggled, then repeated, "Grr grapefruit!"

 

 

Mood board.

Daily report card.

To Do List.

Perspective.

Check.

Grumble Grr, and get on with it.

Each thing in its place.

Prayer for balance and grace.

Look into the eyes of the one I love.

And give generously what I have.

Squeeze the grapefruit, add vodka. 

 

 

 

When a Friend Throws Away an Antique

 

A friend who lives up the hill called. He reminded me that he was make a haul to the dump. I threw the phone down and raced up the hill. He lives in an old big house. His style is art deco. Anything not deco was going to the dump. Including three door panels with ribbons, bows and flowers. A bit girly even for me. But the dump is no home for an antique girly or not!

 

 

Carrying them home I went through the apartment in Paris in my mind, wondering how or if I could use them:

Bedroom... nowhere. 

Kitchen... nope.

Living room... no.

Entrance... Doors are needed for the closets, but these are too small.

Bathroom... Bingo, light bulb moment. I could have the builder transform them into a wall cabinet for toiletries.

Happy happy!

 

 

When I got home I  opened a can of paint, took out some wax... Here is a sneak peek,  I am not sure of the final color. But wood, not a nice looking wood at that, is not what I am after.

Hopefully, I will work something out. If the panels don't work for the apartment, I will have to find a home for them. 

 

"Naughty" Pillow Talk

 

"Love this knotty pillow," was my first thought, then I added, "But I don't think it (they) will be very practical for the apartment rental." Yann rubbed his ears, then fainted from shock... Before he hit the ground he asked, "When are you ever practical?

 

 

Later in another shop I saw polka dotted roman blinds, I "Oohed," and went into full description mode of how they could work and look good in the apartment.

"The kitchen has the same palette, it would marry well with these blinds," I was on a roll, "A contemporary baroque feel, is what I am after. Do you think we could make these work: Wooden floors, black stone tiles, chandeliers..."

What do you think?

Lacey, girly is not me... old, muted, peeling is ... with a touch of black.

 

 

 

The comments you all left me when I first started this project keep ringing in my ears, "User-friendly." Rings the loudest.

The knotty pillow is not user-friendly, naughty pillow.

But then again neither are the 18th-century silk patchwork pillows.

Gulp.

How do I stay true to my brocante style and yet stay in tune with user-friendly?

Gee, am I going to be practical after all? 

 

Rough Luxe Patchwork

 

 18th century silk textile fragments.

Intricately hand embroidery with gold threads.

Most likely made for a church altar piece... 

The torn pieces I found years ago, are not bigger that my hand.

 

 

My Belle Mere and I are making pillows for the apartment in Paris.

Though my Belle Mere finds it a be tricky that I do not want to cut the fabrics. "How are we suppose to make pillows if you do not want to cut the fabric?" She looks at me teasingly.

"Rough luxe patchwork." I offered in a haphazard melange of French and English.

"Oh, yes brilliant." she beams at me.

My Belle Mere has been with us for nearly a month. 

It is such a wonderful surprise how far our relationship has come.

A true hapzard rough luxe patchwork.

For me to say, "I admire her." Is saying I have discovered the pot of gold after the storm.

I would have never believed it true.

And yet it is.

 

 

Have you found a pot of gold?  

How is it with your Mother in Law?

 

French brocante finds... sorry Mat.

Found a pair of sconces, my Belle Mere rewired them.

Rubbing my hands happily, I saw a whole new world opening up... I went through a few of brocante boxes finding other light fixtures that needed her touch.

Let there be light is my new motto.

 

 

 

Later in the day I found this small portrait, buried between some linens and books.

I licked it up, and swallowed it whole.

I don't know how to say that in French without it sounding rude.

 

 

 

A 1700s carved piece on wood.

I have no idea what it was used for, or what I will do with it.

Mat quit shaking your head.

Love has its reasons.

 

A pair of long painted grey candle sticks,

Two round wooden frames, with hints of grey and gold.

A long monastic hand carved wooden rosary.

 

 

My Belle Mere is into this Paris apartment renovation, I think she will stay with us for a few more weeks. She came downstairs this morning, kissed me, like they do in France, and before her cheek touched mine she as saying, "Oh my, last night my dreams were all about the apartment. I could see everything in place. It was wonderful!"

I put my arm around her, "Oh no! Little do you know how many more brocante boxes I have been keeping aside for this very day." 

Her eyes widen, "Come on, let's open them!"

She has the bug badly, maybe worse than me.

 

Deep inside another box, some silk prints that my friend Lisa gave me years ago. My Belle Mere was all over them, calculating the pieces for pillows. 

Later in the day I heard her talking to her daugher, "... I don't know when I am coming home..."

 

 

I am loving every minute of this project, and especially my Belle Mere.

I would have never guessed twenty years ago that our relationship would be this fun today.

How is it with your Mother in Law?