I attended an haute couture show

To-do list for January 26:
- send check for me and my friends to attend the Ball de l'ecole polytechnique at the Opera Garnier. Check.
- pick up final papers from stupid class last semester. Check.
- Attend my first class at my new university, Paris 3. Check.
- Stalk haute couture fashion shows. Check.
---- get into one of the haute couture fashion shows. Checkity check check check. Someone up there likes me.

Today, my friend Taylor and I decided to start the haute couture fashion show week stalking by passing by the Ecole de Beaux-Arts and seeing if we could get into the show of a smaller haute couture designer, Christophe Josse. Taylor had miraculously gotten into the show of a smaller designer in this exact same venue during fall pret-a-porter fashion week, but we didn't think it would really work this time, during haute couture week. But whatever, it was worth a try. If they didn't let us in, it didn't matter, because we didn't know anyone, and we'd never see them again. (although actually, i've recently discovered, several times, that Paris is a lot smaller than one thinks, and you run into people you know all the time. But that's another story...)

So we go to the standing line, where definitely everyone but us is holding invites. I really don't think this is going to work, but, lo and behold, 45 minutes later (they ALWAYS start 45 minutes late), the bouncers just start letting people in. Taylor and I join in the chic frenzy, and, voila. WE'RE IN! A magazine is shoved in our face, a smiling woman is pointing us in the direction of where we can sit, which is RIGHT BY THE END OF THE CATWALK!, and we get to look over elegant programs as we wait.

The show starts, and the clothes this man presents are magnificent. He doesn't do crazy over the top haute couture, but instead more simplified designs with bold colors and lots of wings or billows or other things (I have a limited fashion vocabulary). Then, at the end, the music changed, the lights dimmed, and a model in a GORGEOUS white 'wedding dress' (much skimpier than your normal dress, but gorgeous nonetheless) steps onto the runway. She has attitude. She's like "I know I'm wearing the hottest dress on the runway, betches." People start clapping. Eventually the entire collection comes out, followed by the (attractive) designer himself. And, voila, after about 10 minutes, the whole show is over. I keep playing it over and over in my head. It was like a dream sequence. It was every american girl in Paris's dream. And it was fantastic. And I'm too tired to say more. I start karate tomorrow... in French... wish me luck!

appreciating my neighborhood and french traditions

First of all, just got back from Italy yesterday, which was spectacular! Went to Florence and Rome with my good Wellesley friend Mohona. We had some crazy adventures, some involving some VERY attractive men (*swoon*), and saw some of the most incredible sights of my life (RUINS! haha)... but I'll put up a video eventually. That's not what this post is about. Let's get back to Parisian life...

I had to go pick up something from my dad's best friend's sister-in-law at a place just 10 minutes from my house today. 10 minutes from my house, but in an area I had never been to. The whole time walking there, I was fascinated-- there's SO MUCH in my quartier (neighborhood) that I had never noticed before. I passed two hookah bars, an awesome looking cafe (au chat noir. 'in the black cat.' I think this is going to be my new favorite cafe. seriously.), ethnic restaurants, boutiques, a mosque, workshops, everything! It's a pity that it took me until January to discover more of my neighborhood, because quite frankly, IT'S AWESOME! I love the 11th arrondissement. I love Oberkampf (my street), with its boutiques and bars and clubs that are well-known throughout Paris. And now I sit here and ask myself, why is it that I will gladly get lost in the Marais or the Latin Quarter and discover what those ancient streets have to hold, but I never took a moment to get lost in my own freaking neighborhood? If it weren't for the projected rain this weekend, I would totally go wandering. I guess I'll have to wait till next week...

I also want to write about the galette du rois, a cute French cake/tradition that doesn't exist in the States. For Epiphany, which is on my birthday, the 6th, French people traditionally eat this 'cake of kings.' It has something to do with the three kings and Jesus (that's why you eat in on Epiphany), but every French person, no matter their religion, enjoyes and eats this cake (which is usually an almond cake, but some other varities exist) throughout the month. There is a whole process to eating this cake, hence why I refer to it as a cake/tradition. First of all, the youngest person in the room randomly assigns the pieces of cake to the people in the room. This is because the youngst is considred the most innocent, or the most naive, and therefore won't be biased in dolling out the pieces. Hidden inside the cake is a tiny little figurine thing (really tiny. I'm surprised people don't swallow it), often a piece of the nativity scene (the first time I ate it, there was a little cow inside...), but it could be anything really. Whoever finds the little thing (cow, king, whatever) as they're eating the cake become the king or queen, and gets to wear a little crown that comes with the cake. Sometimes, two crowns come with the cake, so that the king gets to pick a queen (or vice versa). And... that's about it, you win the satisfaction of wearing a crown and being lucky! But the French love it. Some French friends commented on how sad they were that they never succeeded in become king or queen-- not once in their life. Quel dommage! The galette du rois is eaten all during the month of January, and you basically can't find it any other month of the year. So, obviously, I'm enjoying it while I can... yum...

joy

I just had a wonderful birthday. Why? Because the friends I celebrated with were great people. Truly magnificent people. They're not my back home friends, but at this moment, I didn't care, because they made my birthday spectacular. My host parents even cooked my a special dinner and bought cake and Berthillon ice cream, and got me flowers, and my parents sent me flowers (wow! not typical for them), and my friends treated me to everything... I was so touched. These people I was with today, they were all spectacular and fun and made me so happy. I don't care about my sickness, the cold, the fact that EVERYONE was sick or on vacation or studying for finals. All I care about was that in the end, I was truly blessed, and happy, and I will now go to sleep at 3am with happy happy thoughts of strawberry shots, meeting more random French guys, falafel, cake, chilling with friends, discussing boys, a-sexuality, wearing the pants, asses, boobs, and all that's in between...

really, that's all. i just wanted to confess to the world how content i am at this moment. thank you everyone for calls and emails and facebooking and hanging out. je vous aime vraiment. ahhhhhhhh ok je suis fatiguee, je dois dormir! (i love you all truly. ahhh ok i'm tired, i should sleep!)

i'm 21, wooooooooah

hold on cuz the world will turn if you're ready or not

Yesterday I woke up sick. Today it's snowing in Paris (it rarely snows in Paris). Tomorrow is my 21st birthday. It is projected to be 25 degrees in Paris tomorrow. It usually doesn't go below 30.

what does this all mean? I don't know. Yesterday I thought it meant that the world was out to get me. Who gets sick 2 days before their 21st? That sounds like some kind of punishment, like the grown-up version of getting coal from Santa in your stocking. "Orly, you've been a bad girl this year. No wild debauchery for you come your 21st!" Ouch Santa. Wait, wtf, I don't even believe in you...

I was also annoyed because of this whole cold birthday thing. Well, not just that. Cold birthday during vacation for half my friends and finals for the other half. That means barely anyone can come celebrate my bday with me--either they're home or they're studying. That, however, would be the same case in the States, where my bday falls before the large majority of my friends, and I would have been chilling at a bar or a club with only those who had fake IDs. However, it would not be 25 degrees in LA. 25 degrees is COLD ladies and gentlemen. That's below freezing. That means that any body part not covered in about 4 layers will freeze. Oh how joyous this will be... not.

But then I woke up today and two amazing things happened: 1) I'm feeling a lot better! Not perfect, but better. So I decided NOT to call up the doctor this morning, continue my regime of napping and hot water with lemon and honey (for my poor throat), and hope for the best for tomorrow. and 2) DID I MENTION IT'S SNOWING IN PARIS?!?!?! not like 5 minutes of powder like last time, no no, real snow! And there's NOTHING, NOTHING that makes me happier than snow (ok, that's a lie, but I forget about anything else that could make me happier when I see snow).

Snow + feeling better= optimism. So what if I'll be cold? So what if I won't be in tip-top shape? January 6 is just a day. It's the first day of my 21st year, and I'll have 364 other days to make 21 special.

I'll still try and see how long I can last at a bar and club until I pass out from exhaustion, or coughing, however...

(video updates coming up soon, I promise. I'm lazy.)