Between mademoiselle and madame
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I recently revisited Paris as a ‘tween. Most people
may conjure up images of awkward young women of the ages 11-13 when
referring to a ‘tween, but I am twenty seven years old. I am between
mademoiselle and madame.
There
are usually two groups of leisure travelers encountered on the
cobblestone streets of Paris: the young college students seeing Europe
for the first time with a backpack and a dog-eared copy of Frommers
Budget Traveler, or the families with children in tow and sprinting
from the Mona Lisa to the Eiffel Tower. I did not fit into either of
these categories, yet was determined to see Paris on my own.
I
had chosen a budget chic hotel in the sixth arrondisement, Hotel Mayet.
I was a bit wary of it because my heart was set on staying at the old
grand dame, the Lutetia. However, I decided that this was a trip for
taking chances. My biggest fear came after reading a review of the
Hotel Mayet on tripadvisor.com from an Australian visitor warning “The
shower was VERY small, so you wouldn’t want to be fat.” As a typical
American woman, this set off warning bells and I was convinced that I
would not fit in the shower and be forced to walk the rues of Paris
stinking of garlic and all of the smelly French cheeses I was
determined to try.
None
of my fears about the hotel materialized, and I ensconced myself
happily into residence there. There was a boulangerie on the corner
that I stopped at each morning to jumpstart my metabolism with a warm
pain au chocolat. Then I would head out to explore the sights… Well,
more so the shops.
I
bent to pet the dogs of well-coiffed French women in the elegant Bon
Marché department store, which I think many found alarming. I tried on
shoes on the Rue Dragon, and bought with abandon. I sat at cafes, and
avoided the stares of overbearing waiters, asking if I was waiting for
a companion. But I stood firm, I was in the city of light and love,
alone.
Even
my carry-on luggage seemed to scream my ‘tween status. One oversize
black Kate Spade messenger bag, and a Louis Vuitton purse. Kate Spades
were cult status symbols for American college students, while Louis
Vuitton screamed either chic French woman of a certain age, or wealthy
Asian tourist. Again, I was neither. I took as many chances as I could,
trying to eat mussels in a dainty French fashion, without having butter
dripping down my chin, walking along the Seine in heels, à la
Francaise, and even paid 50 euros for a “massage” guaranteed to trim my
body of five pounds of water weight!
I
discovered during this journey as a “tween” is that I am confident as
myself, alone, in any city in the world. I was free to pop into a
little store that caught my fancy, to go to the Sunday market in my
sweats with a Vuitton sac, or to eat only a baguette slathered with
Nutella for dinner. I had no one to answer to but myself. This voyage
confirmed that being a ‘tween isn’t always terrible. No annoyed
boyfriend sitting anxiously outside dressing rooms, and no one forcing
me to visit the Louvre. It was a vacation of self-discovery: I am
content in the city of love, alone.