Jaunting with the Jet Set!

(This past trip in a very selective nutshell.)

If you're credit risk-averse or otherwise attempting to be disciplined, the best time to shop in Paris is...

..at night.

Anytime between 8:00pm and 3:00am-ish. It's when the streets empty and the pavements are lit by the glow of shop windows, mannequins peddling the chic and shabby to night owls like me -- who, thankfully, now have no chance whatsoever of pulling out the plastic to make those impulse buys.



At night, window-shopping in Paris is all about... art (you might as well appreciate it for its aesthetic value since you can't possibly buy anything at that hour!). And fashion, particularly in Paris, is as high an art form as there is.

When one tires of the leche-vitrines (window-shopping, or, literally, "licking the windows"), it's easy enough to retire to the comfort of one's own room and admire the night in general.

Unlike Manhattan, Paris does sleep. And when it does, it can be beautiful.



Quick run-down on this season's Paris pret-a-porter: There were no clothes to tempt me. None. Which, if you know me, you will realise is a very strange thing indeed.

But I am taken with the idea, seen virtually everywhere, of what I call "mixed media fashion": bold intermingling and juxtaposition of unlikely materials and textures. Sweaters, for example, are embroidered, edged and dotted with abstract bits of silk, leather, fur, lurex and cotton canvas. And there is no end of floral appliques of all persuasions -- crocheted, knitted, beaded and felted.

Jackets are structured -- many in the military style seen of late on the catwalks. It's a good, clean look. But a lot of my own wardrobe is severe enough without me adding more pieces that scream Establishment.

At Alaia, I did see a curious shrug, knit all in one piece with a collar added as an afterthought. Lovely. But the thing was knit in just plain wool -- not even merino, and yet, the price tag was... 1295.00 euros (approx. US$1600.00). (!!!) Colour me cardiac-arrested -- not to mention eternally grateful that I could knit it myself (for a fraction of the cost) if I wanted. (All of you who just put your hand over your heart and gasped, I'm with you!)

But le Bon Marche, oh, how I love thee. I cannot even begin to count the ways! The displays alone in this department store are worth the trip. This time it was ostentatious chandeliers that, upon closer inspection, turned out to have been crafted from garlanded tea strainers and glass tea cups. Clever. Ordinary enough until you actually took the time to notice.

And there is always a treat in the exhibition space on the 3rd floor -- usually worth the trek on the crowded metro. This month (September) it was all about Marc Jacobs and his fall/winter collection -- which I love love love, despite the fact that I don't really have the body to look fetching enough in an empire waist or crinkled velvet -- and especially not both at once. Yet, contrary to all that is rational, I still covet everything in this collection. (I was so preoccupied with not drooling that I was unable to take even the most discreet of camera-phone shots.)

Hmm... what else? No footwear of any interest. Yarn was also rather uninspiring. I did, however, pick up some Chibi needles and a sewing kit, just to do my bit to patronize La Droguerie. Like paying a tithe or something.

*sigh* In sum: Alas! I was clearly meant to depart from Paris with roughly the same amount of luggage as when I arrived.

Oh well. Shopping isn't everything. Luckily there was time for some relaxation with an old and very dear friend who met me for dinner at one of my favourite brasseries in the 6th arrondissement. Which, he says, by the way, is a neighbourhood that is almost too good to be true (I believe his exact words were: "like the Truman Show")-- like a little slice of Hollywood due to all the well-dressed and well-coiffed people going about the normal business of having a quiet drink and picking at les petites choses a grignoter (munchies). And he's probably right. Sitting not far away (although not together) were Catherine Deneuve, Philippe Geluck, and a politician whom I recognised from newspaper photos but whose name I can never remember (probably because he's a politician)...

Next pit stop: London! And lots of traffic.





... where I whizzed past the Millenium Eye, which I have yet to find the time to ride.



I was rushing to meet Atropos to catch a train to Holmfirth, home of Rowan yarns...



One last sidebar on fashion and local culture: It always strikes me as a funny thing that clothes appropriate for one place can be inappropriate in another. I hadn't had the opportunity or the inclination to change clothes from what I'd put on that morning, but when we pulled into Huddersfield train station (in a town close to Holmfirth), it became obvious to me that the retro button down shirt and bright pink camisole that had been perfectly acceptable in Paris stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of subdued earth tones, tweed and gore-tex. Huh. (So, did I change then? Nope.)

Anyway, back to the travel log...

There were traffic jams in Holmfirth, too.





Entirely worth the wait when you saw the view at the destination, like this one beyond a cricket pitch (can't you just smell the crisp fresh air??).



But the weekend wasn't all goggling at greenery. Atropos and I pitched up at a design seminar given by Sasha Kagan (that's her there, standing with her back to the camera).





Our design remit was much more limited than I had anticipated: working "inspiration" from nature into a knitted work. (Here's mine, basically pulled right out of a hat, since I hadn't had any time to devote to any mental prep for the course.)



A teeny bit wonky in the end, but not bad considering that I'm not an intarsia/fair isle knitter by choice.



I'll be the first to admit that my mind was in about a zillion places at the time because it's virtually impossible to remain focused when surrounded on four walls by so much yarn and fabric (by Kaffe Fassett and others) -- all drool-worthy. Just look at those colours:







Inspiration starts at the entrance to the old mill, as you can see from the samples standing guard in the main lobby.



I was intrigued by the textures on these cushions (which I think are the work of the wonderful Lisa Richardson). Just LOOK at them!







Yup, you can say that my mind was in a whirl after all that stimulation. Addled, to be sure. But in a good way!

And on that note, a lovely night, all! (Happy Midnight Knitting!)