An American in Paris

Yesterday I arrived in my old stomping ground, Paris. I lived there for four years during my 20s and had the most amazing time ever. I lived in a top floor flat in the Marais with my roommate and partner in crime, Dahlia. We both worked as fashion industry interns getting paid almost nothing while being rewarded with every glamorous party invitation under the Parisian sun. Between borrowing clothes from work and begging our parents for extra spending money, we actually made do. When our internships were over, Dahlia (originally from San Francisco) took up a magazine job in London and I moved to New York to start my own company. However, last year Dahlia was transferred last year back to Paris and is now living on the Left Bank in the swish San Germain-des-Pres. I was so excited to be reunited with her again and look up all the boys from our past. What had happened to them? Had they married? Had they gone bald? Would they remember us? And more importantly, would they still adore us if they did?

Dahlia had organized for us to go to a White Party. We had to dress in all white and the food would be all white and so were the drinks....and yes, because it is France - the people were all white too. Thank God I was tan for once - because usually white is not my color and all of the boys would supposedly be in attendance.

The party was fun, the music was great, and we did see the boys, but it wasn't exactly as I had hoped. They all said "hi" like they had just seen us yesterday...not some ten odd years ago. Some were married and some were indeed bald - but most of them were largely just nonchalant. I suppose due to all the crazy nights we had together, I would have expected a little more excitement from them - but maybe when people are "party friends" it doesn't mean as much in the long run? Had they all moved on and Dahlia and I.....still single, still swilling cocktails, and dancing our 30-something hearts out a pathetic sight to them? Did we look like the aging party girls who didn't hear the music turn off a few years back? Ugh....I just wanted to shout at them that I had grown up. I own a multi-mullion dollar apartment in Manhattan and I run a successful business, but did it matter? Maybe not. By European standards, I was starting to look like an old maid.

There was one bright reunion in the evening, however. I had the most unbelievable crush on this French count with the largest blue eyes ever for the longest time. We used to call him "Bambi" behind his back because of those massive eyes and his slightly fragile stature. He is (and was) sweet, charming, and incredibly stylish. I adored him for almost the entire time I lived in Paris, but he had a girlfriend, so nothing ever happened. He broke up with her a few months before I left - but it still never happened. He is one of those guys who can be so disarming that you lose your game and your nerve - and hence - me, never one to be shy, could ever get up the guts to make a move on him.

Count Bambi did seem genuinely happy to see me though. He instantly wrote down my European cell number and he had a giddiness to him that I had never seen. Even Dahlia noticed it and she informed me that he had just broken up with his latest girlfriend. What brilliant timing. Bambi is the type that would fall under the "future potential" category and definitely not in the "holiday hook up" category. I adore him. Always have and I can't wait to see what happens.