Paris, France

Last January, Charles and I went on an art jaunt to Paris over a long weekend. We flew out on a Wednesday red-eye and returned the following Monday. During those 96 hours, we went to three museums, visited with friends and long-lost relatives, ate extremely well, shopped and strolled in numerous neighborhoods, and in general, had a magical and memorable time in the City of Light. Here is an overview of our itinerary:

Day 1: Thursday

I scored a great deal on Air France business class seats (FYI: there are always deals on airfare to Europe in January). We arrived at CDG from JFK in the early morning. A driver was waiting to take us to our hotel, Maison Armance, a boutique luxury hideaway in an amazing location – a block off Rue de Rivoli, in between Place de la Concorde and Place Vendôme. The hotel name is taken from a novel by Stendhal, who lived in the building in the early 19th century. Upon check-in our room wasn’t ready yet, so we left our bags with the concierge and walked to a cafe on Rue de Rivoli for some much needed coffee. We then took a twirl around Place de la Concorde and through the Jardin des Tuileries. It was over 10 years since we had last been to Paris – and it felt so good to be back.

Our room was ready an hour later. We stayed in the Suite Cambon, a spacious and modern accommodation with a true king-size bed, large walk-in shower plus bathtub, and Codage beauty products. The interiors reflect the Art Deco Haussmann era, with stormy gray walls, authentic trim, herringbone parquet floors, and burnished brass fixtures. It was our own little oasis. After unpacking and freshening up, we walked back through the Jardin des Tuileries and across the Seine to the Musée d’Orsay, where we ogled at the vast collection of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist masterpieces over the next few hours.

The spirit of Stendahl was in me, as I became overwhelmed with emotion passing from one gallery to the next, with walls filled with showstoppers by Monet, Manet, Renoir, Degas, Morisot, Pissarro, and Cézanne. While these icons captivated me, I also sought out lesser-known gems. Caillebotte’s “Raboteurs de parquet,” with its three shirtless laborers stripping a Parisian floor, held my attention, as did Luce’s Pointillist “Les Batteurs de pieux,” depicting another group of muscular men at work, driving piles into the ground. It seems I had a particular fascination with depictions of male labor that day.

From the d’Orsay, we crossed back over the Seine, past the gloriously illuminated Louvre and up Rue de Richelieu – which is where I stayed during my very first trip to Paris in 1999. We were meeting our good friends from London, Zoë and Gawn, for dinner at Juveniles Bistrot and Wine Bar. This was the perfect spot for excellent French comfort food – Saint-Jacques à la plancha, foie gras, bœuf braisé au vin rouge, gigot d’agneau rôti – and superb, inexpensive wine, in a relaxed and casual atmosphere. It was freezing cold outside, but our minds, bodies, and souls had been warmed by an amazing first day in gay Paree.

Day 2: Friday

The impetus for this trip evolved from a review in the New York Times of the Mark Rothko retrospective at the Fondation Louis Vuitton. Charles is a huge Rothko enthusiast, which began with an introduction to the artist by his very dear friend, Becky Stein, several decades ago. The minute he told me about the exhibition, I opened my MacBook and booked us in. Alas, the day had arrived for us to see the show. From our hotel, we took a taxi out to the Bois de Boulogne, which is home to the Fondation Louis Vuitton. Zoë and Gawn met us there. The museum is a work of art in its own right. Designed by Frank Gehry, the exterior features 12 massive glass sails that appear to float above the surrounding park. While ultra contemporary in design, the building harmoniously blends with its natural surroundings, creating a sense of lightness and transparency.

The Rothko retrospective offered a comprehensive journey through the artist’s career, showcasing over 100 works gathered from museums and private collections worldwide. The chronological arrangement allowed visitors to trace Rothko’s evolution, from his early figurative paintings to the monumental color-field canvases that define his legacy. While I was most familiar with his later abstract masterpieces, it was the early figurative works, steeped in Surrealism and Expressionism, that truly captivated me. These canvases, depicting scenes of urban life, the bustle of the New York subway, and intimate portraits, offered a fascinating glimpse into Rothko’s artistic beginnings.

All of Rothko’s unfinished Seagram murals were shown together for the first time in decades. In 1958, he was commissioned to create a series of paintings for the Four Seasons restaurant inside New York’s Seagram Building. The murals are characterized by their large size; use of deep, saturated colors (maroons, reds, and blacks); and luminous, atmospheric quality. Rothko famously withdrew from the commission as he began to feel the luxurious and commercial setting of the Four Seasons was not an appropriate venue for his art. He would keep all 30 pieces, later donating nine to the Tate Modern in London.

In Rothko’s own words, his larger abstract works are to be admired from a paintbrush’s length away from the canvas. This enables the viewer to witness and experience the depth and layers of color present in each work of art, which isn’t easily seen when standing several feet away. We were the rare few who heeded Rothko’s guidance, which, in an ironic twist, gave us the freedom to get close to just about every canvas – while everyone else congregated and fought for viewing space in the middle of each gallery.

After traipsing around the fondation for several hours, we walked to Neuilly-sur-Seine and had lunch at a French version of a diner. We then helped Zoë and Gawn into a taxi, and Charles and I took a stroll past the Arc de Triomphe and down the Champs-Élysées, which, in the dead of winter, was packed with people. We stopped at #68, the original flagship location of the haute parfumerie, La Maison Guerlain. The building itself is a historical monument, showcasing the Belle Époque style with its ornate facade and luxurious interiors. A fragrance consultant treated us like royalty as he guided me in selecting the perfect scent – Herbes Troublantes, an eau de parfum from the L’Art & La Matiere collection. To commemorate the experience, I paid a little extra to have the bottle engraved with my French name, Gregoire.

Later that evening, I took Charles out for a belated birthday celebration at Tomy & Co in the 7th, indulging in a sumptuous feast of bistronomy cuisine. French-Cambodian chef, Tomy Gousset, perfected his craft at Le Meurice, Taillevent, and Boulud in New York, before opening his namesake restaurant in 2016 – and earning a Michelin star the same year. We had a beautiful three-course meal with hints of all our favorite flavors and ingredients – black truffle, foie gras, pigeon, langoustine. We ordered one of Gousset’s signature dishes, gnocchi frits, heavenly pillows of dough that melt on the tongue. Adding in the chocolate ganache and raspberry torte for dessert and a bottle of crisp white burgundy, it was the perfect celebratory dinner. On our way back to the hotel, while crossing the Pont Alexandre III, we had an amazing view of the Eiffel Tower, which was sparkling and shimmering in Charles’ honor.

Day 3: Saturday

The following morning, we met Zoë and Gawn at the Musée de l’Orangerie, just a short stroll from our hotel. We were there to see a Modigliani exhibit and spend time with Monet’s Water Lilies cycle – which I had never seen before.The Modigliani exhibit explored the dynamic between the artist and his dealer, Paul Guillaume, a steadfast supporter of Modigliani’s work. The collection primarily featured portraits of women, each rendered in Modigliani’s signature style: elongated faces, noses, and necks, almond-shaped eyes, and subtly pursed lips. I’ve always admired how his unique aesthetic defied categorization within the major art movements of his era.

Monet’s Water Lilies are a truly breathtaking and immersive experience. They are not just a collection of paintings, but a carefully designed environment that envelops you in the beauty of Monet’s garden and his artistic vision. He dedicated the last 30 years of his life to capturing the ever-changing beauty of his home in Giverny, particularly the water lilies in his pond. The paintings at the l’Orangerie are massive, panoramic canvases that surround you, creating a sense of being completely enveloped in the scene. Monet gifted these works to the French state as a symbol of peace after World War I. He wanted to create a space for contemplation and tranquility, a refuge from the turmoil of the world – which is needed now more than ever.

After our visit to the l’Orangerie, we crossed the Seine and headed to Saint-Germain-des-Prés for lunch at Café Louise. While we’d hoped to snag a table at the legendary Café de Flore or Les Deux Magots, the lines snaked down the street, even in the midst of winter. Café Louise proved a delightful alternative, offering a warm and inviting atmosphere. We settled into La Cave Voutée downstairs, a charming space with arched ceilings and exposed limestone walls. Following lunch, Zoë and Gawn went back to their hotel to rest, as did Charles. I, however, was eager to explore the 6th arrondissement. I spent some time wandering through the neighborhood, popping into various shops and boutiques before making my way to Le Bon Marché, one of the oldest department stores in Paris. I wanted to experience the frenzy of les soldes d’hiver – the winter sales – that descends on Paris each January. It was quite a spectacle to watch elegantly dressed Parisians eagerly sifting through racks and shelves of discounted luxury goods. I even managed to find a few tops from Octobre Éditions, a French brand I’d discovered on Instagram, of all places.

That evening, we dined with Zoë and Gawn at L’Assiette in Montparnasse. Charles, with a particular fondness for cassoulet, was eager to try their acclaimed rendition of the classic dish. From the moment we stepped inside, I sensed this would be an unforgettable evening. The restaurant was bustling, with a large birthday party keeping the staff on their toes. In the midst of taking our drink order, our waiter suddenly vanished, reappearing 15 minutes later as if no time had passed. While we savored the delicious bread, we found ourselves without butter. After a few attempts to catch someone’s eye, Zoë, ever resourceful, took matters into her own hands, procuring a portion from a nearby serving station. Just then, the head garçon finally noticed us and hurried over to chide Zoë. It took over an hour for our plats principals to arrive. During this interlude, the chef poked his head out of the kitchen and groaned, “Quel shit show!” before disappearing back into the fray. It was a scene worthy of a Jacques Tati film. Fortunately, we found the whole experience rather amusing. And when the cassoulet at last graced our table, I’m delighted to report that it absolutely lived up to its stellar reputation.

Day 4: Sunday

For Sunday brunch, we had the pleasure of meeting Charles’s newly discovered second cousin, Vanessa, and her husband, Matheu. Vanessa is the granddaughter of Charles’ grandfather’s brother, who emigrated from Poland to France in the early 1920s. Tragically, he perished in Auschwitz after being captured by the Nazis, but thankfully, all four of his children survived. It was wonderful to connect with Vanessa and Matheu and hear about their lives in France. We met at Hoct&Loca, a charming spot near the Centre Pompidou, renowned for its decadent chocolat chaud.

Afterwards, Charles and I wandered around Le Marais, popping in and out of shops along Rue Vieille du Temple and Rue de Bretagne. On our first trip to Paris over 10 years prior, I fell in love with and bought a pair of green suede moccasin boots from Bobbies, which, at the time, operated out of a tiny pop-up space. They have since moved into a large, flagship location on Rue Vieille du Temple with additional stores located throughout France and Europe. I was happy to see their business alive and thriving. This time around, I discovered Drôle de Monsieur, a men’s concept store oozing with cool French style (maybe too cool for me). I tried on many pieces of eye candy but didn’t end up buying anything. A few doors down at L’Habbileur, Charles coveted a chunky wool orange checkered overcoat that he almost bought, but the thought of schlepping it back to New York was too daunting. Oh well. We continued our stroll into the 2nd and through the Jardin du Palais Royal as we made our way back to Maison Armance.

Our final evening in Paris was capped off with a truly delightful dinner at Les Parisiens, the chic restaurant nestled within the Hotel Pavillon Faubourg Saint-Germain. We shared this special occasion with Zoë and Gawn, indulging in an exceptional meal of bistronomy-inspired French classics. After savoring oysters and foie gras, I opted for the veal sweetbread fricassée. Gawn chose the vol-au-vent Deauville style, a culinary masterpiece crowned with delicate puff pastry. Charles and Zoë shared the perfectly prepared sole meunière. For a sweet finale, we split the restaurant’s renowned île flottante – ethereal meringue islands adrift in a sea of creamy crème anglaise. C’était un délice! In a delightful twist, we discovered our former neighbors from the Upper West Side dining a few tables down, proving just how small the world can be.

After heartfelt adieus to Zoë and Gawn, we walked back to our hotel, crossing the Pont Royal and passing the Louvre. This familiar walk had become a cherished part of our Parisian experience. We were happy to have truly explored this area, and I know we’ll return soon to discover the charms of Paris’ other neighborhoods.

Last visited in January, 2024

#France