Five Paris stories
Finding solace and distraction in books (and a podcast)
A friend in the U.S. has been mending his clothes, restoring Japanese lanterns, patching drywall, and polishing antique silver to distract himself. My best friend bakes olive oil cake, repots all of her plants and takes miles-long walks when she’s distraught. My husband flees to Fontainebleau any chance he gets to quiet his mind and give himself a mission for the day. My strategy is to sit with friends over coffee and talk out my feelings until they start to make sense. I throw myself into books that take me to other worlds, and I spend an inordinate amount of time observing my cats who live second to second. (Recently, I’ve taken to observing the orange guy across the street, too, who sits on a cat tree and looks out the window and occasionally takes a stroll on the balcony.)
We do things to distract ourselves from the calamity unfolding and double down on activities we love because we have to keep going. But it’s getting harder— at least for me. I never could have imagined how utterly bizarre it would feel to carry fear, anger, sadness and disappointment every day while showing up for professional engagements and needing to find value in some new restaurant venture or start-up from a business school grad. It’s why I was drawn to
’s book “The World is on Fire But We’re Still Buying Shoes” years ago— yes, ostensibly it’s about contextualizing the hunger to shop despite the mountain of information we have about fashion’s impact on the planet. But it’s also about living within situational and inner conflict. The title alone offers confirmation of the contradictions we’re perpetually juggling. Reading it made me feel slightly less insane (and way more informed).The other day, I sat on a bench with my friend Francesca who feels both professional and existential torment, and I bemoaned how so many around us seem to be living as if the world order wasn’t shifting beneath us, blithely unaware or wilfully ignorant. “I attended a few work events in the last week, put on a smile and still went home depressed— you don’t know what they’re thinking, they could be feeling what we’re feeling,” she said. She was right but what I’m wishing is that these feelings of despair get channeled into action.
Until then, and In the absence of a roadmap for us navigating nation state turbulence / apocalypse / oligarchy takeover, we turn to what we know and love. I continue to need in-person connection and gathering. It all feels wildly inadequate for the moment but somehow makes it feel less crushing.
“Since the dawn of humankind, those with robust social networks
have been more resilient than those without.”
— George Monbiot.
This is perhaps an odd way to segue into a few books that may help distract you (now and when they hit shelves) if you’re feeling as I am but here we are. It’s an odd time. Paris is still Paris, for now, and a great escape for many of you.
Adventures in the Louvre: How to Fall in Love with the World's Greatest Museum
Elaine Sciolino
(Releasing April 1)
The former Paris bureau chief of The New York Times and the author of The Seine: The River that Made Paris is back with a love letter to the world’s most iconic museum. Sciolino guides readers on an intimate journey through both celebrated masterpieces and hidden treasures, while introducing us to the diverse cast of characters who bring the museum to life—from dedicated curators and skilled artisans to meticulous restorers. Blending history, memoir and travel writing, she offers a clear understanding of why the Louvre continues to captivate art lovers and amateurs from around the world.
Related: my latest episode of The New Paris podcast explores the Louvre’s first fashion exhibition, Louvre Couture, with my friend and fellow journalist Amy Verner. We talk about the context surrounding the exhibition, her personal connection to the museum, what pieces to be sure you seek out if you visit and the renovations the museum will undergo in the coming years. Listen below or on Spotify or YouTube!