I Love My Town

One hot summer day, I thought about this. Aside from Manhattan, I have never felt as passionate about a city as I do about Lyon. For me, it is a perfect city—not too big, not too much traffic, profound culture and history, ethnic diversity, an easy metro and fab urban bike system, magnificent architecture, cute guys, easy access to the south of France, the Rhone wine country, skiing in the Alpes and Paris by high speed train. But what I love most about Lyon is the near perfect (pour moi au moins) urban quality of life.

It's such big love between me and Lyon that I had to design a t-shirt for Basic French. Dan Baxter, my good friend and the most talented illustrator and animal portrait artist I know, is pictured here sporting his. Go Dan!!!

Crushing on your home town and need to wear a Basic French J'aime ma ville t-shirt?

Great Quote

"I don't know what I'm capable of doing, but, by God, I have genius--I know too well to blush behind it." --Thomas Wolfe

Justice Dancing in Times Square

Camp Simcha is a camp for kids with childhood illnesses and my friend Jayne's son, an amazing boy (the trooper of all troopers) was part of this fabulous celebration in the middle of Times Square—counselors and campers celebrating life and having a blast! Justice is the short one in the middle. Check out Chai Lifeline, the incredible non-profit organization behind this life-affirming event on Facebook, whose mission is to "bring joy to seriously ill children and hope to their families."

Promenade in Time

We left our country house after a few quiet days. About half a mile down the one-lane road, Halliday rolled down the window after we'd passed a local farmer and took this shot. Les monts du lyonnais is so unspoiled and beautiful, the farmers so rugged and hard-working. France has somehow managed in certain parts to be frozen in time. And that's why I live here.

Jeune Fille Chic

Just like in the US, French teenage girls are constantly under intense fashion pressure. My girls know far more about brand names and chic stores that I ever did at their age. However, I have been incredibly opinionated about clothes all my life and drove my mother and sister (who were not shoppers or fashion victims) absolutely mad with my peripatetic searches for the perfect back-to-school shoes, the ones I had pictured in my head but never actually seen—yet. I always had my own distinct style and from the age of five, I slept with my favorite new clothes I loved them so much.

I am counting my blessings that my two resident teens are not among the EMO-dressing, body-piercing, tatoo-sporting crowd here in Lyon. They are plutôt BCBG {bon chic bon genre} or preppy with class. Thank God. And this season, BCBG = the classic marinière or sailor shirt from Brittany. I chased Abigail around our new and empty apartment in her summer Bensimons and marinière dress {from guess where,} hoping to capture the essence of jeune lyonnaise style. Et voila!

Where I hang out (when I hang out in the day time, which is rare)

Family Ties

So Very British!

Average Pierre?

I keep reading all this things on the internet and in American magazines about how the French are so chic and they all dress well and they all have great manners and they're all this and ALL THAT. Now that I lived here for two years, I have had to completely unpack the closet of myths I had amassed over the years, despite all my visits here. So, I need to get a few things straight. The French are many things. Some French people are chic, some are well-dressed and a few have great manners.

I went to a shareholders' party for a local bank with my friend Ogbia, and I was struck by how average everyone was. I know, I know, I sound like a huge snob, but I really was. And in light of the fact that I have been reading all these perpetuated myths about the French, I thought I would share this video.

So let's get this straight. Not all American men wear white tube socks and running shoes. And the French guy in the pink sweater sure can do "the medicine."

Good Weekend!

We tend to forget that
happiness doesn't come
as a result of getting
something we don't have,
but rather of recognizing
and appreciating
what we do have.

FREDRICK KOEING

The Dog Days of Winter

I never knew what the dog days of summer were, but surely these must be the dog days of winter!

What the heck!

Les Puces du Canal : Gloria Loves to Dance

One beautiful, unseasonably warm winter day, an american, a french/german, an italian, a greek and a serbian/greek ex-Parisian go to the marché aux puces in Lyon. That's me and my friends.

The flea market is not that inspiring. I find a funky pitcher, 2 benetiers and a faience madonna to add to my collection. I am really looking for the perfect commode, a dresser that will fit in the bedroom. I have been looking for 2 years. The sun peeks in and out as we walk around. It feels like almost Spring and voices are high with excitement. We all want to break out.

I keep wondering why I have never managed to live in a warm place. I wonder why I never moved to Marseille or Nice. Lyon, an improvement over New York by far, is still too cold for me. And yet here, this prematurely warm sunny day, I feel intoxicated. We sit in a local café as everyone begins to pack up their wares. We eat poorly, drink a few glasses of unmemorable wine, laugh, tease. Music seeps out of a café nearby and we are like snakes in the sun—immobile, lazy, slow, content. I feel drugged and so good, soaking up those rays, forgetting the long list of tasks I have lined up the week ahead of me. We follow the music and end up inside the local café/bar where the antique dealers wrap up their day. They all seem to know each other. It's a mixed crowd but we still stand out a bit, not locals. The music plays and we can't help but be drawn into the swirl. It's a springtime drug. I'm addicted.

The Language of Love...Basic French

BY DEBORAH P. SOBELOFF

That was the year Josh and I decided to argue
in French, a language we didn't know
enough of to lie in. We only knew the present
tense, the infinitives. There was no
conjugation--we or I. No decisions
to be made--her or me.
I could say table, bed,
but not ask what happened--a relief
not to know or to know my fears
correct. We loved the conversation
that could go on and on with two words:
Ça va. He sang the Marseillaise to me in bed.
It gave me goose bumps.
Our meals became prayers
hastened with bon apetit, the fear of bon voyage.
In English, I could make the whole
room spin around one word, make an hour
of tears over the inflection of one syllable. In French,
it was obvious we were ridiculous,
fallible, together. We were back in school.

Copyright © 2009

Port-au-Prince

I would want to adopt all these adorable Haitian orphans

Elsève Volume Non-Stop

Halliday and I have been getting a lot of mileage (giggles) out of a new shampoo that we are carrying at basicfrench. Lauded for it's long-lasting volume enhancing potential by a myriad of well-groomed lyonnais, Elsève Volume Non-Stop, is truly our new shampoo of choice.

The Halliday Girls!

I just found this picture of two of the four amazing Halliday sisters, my great aunt Bobbie (Elisabeth Halliday Van Nortwick) and my grandmother Mimi, (Margaret Halliday Neiley) aka Mother Nature.

Bobbie and Mimi were my role models. They were the most elegant and hilarious women I have ever known. Always dressed to the nines, relaxed in real Abercrombie and Fitch, quintessential ladies, polished at Miss Porters, raised between New York , Yonkers (the then countryside of Manhattan) and Hyannis Port, they were the funniest pair ever.

Fashion Week : Paris Chic ?

Eric Rohmer, Claire's Knee and other stuff

Eric Rohmer in 1985. Photograph: EPA

I think that when I discovered Eric Rohmer in my teens, I felt I had truly arrived. My French was not too great at that time, but I fell deeply in love with the mood of his movies, the light, the scenery and the realistic promise of unrequited, youthful love.

Anyway, Eric Rohmer died today and here is a bit of history about him from "The Guardian" and the "Associated Press" in case you want to become a posthumous fan. Eric Rohmer marathon weekend, ne c'est pas?



And then there's Claire's knee (le Genou de Claire) of course...

The Party & French Boys Love Fashion Too!

Living with two teenage girls, I am blessed each week with full-on fashion exposure, beginning Monday mornings at 6:15 when my 15 year old gets up for school. The fun really kicks in on weekends with multiple wardrobe changes, interspersed with moments of great despair, tears, more wardrobe changes, last minute loads of laundry and mascara touch ups. The fashion apex is Sunday evening at about 10:23 when Monday morning's outfit is oh so carefully selected and strewn on the settee in our hallway.

I thought this was a teenage girl thing, until I went to a birthday party for our fabulous friend Odyssey, fondly known (to me at least) as "the Greek." Boys, boys, boys, just love their clothes and shoes and even have a favorite shampoo, which gives them that lift, that bounce, that brushed forward sloppy yet trimmed hair look that the French boys are sporting these days.

La Croix Rousse is Back!!

I used to hang out a lot in La Croix Rousse, but for various reasons which I won't elaborate on here, I got out of the habit. But slowly and surely, I am rediscovering this unpretentious and genuine neighborhood that I fell for a few years ago. Today, I am on my way to my dear friend Odyssey's birthday party.

My Favorite Sacred Place and Funny Teenage Boys

My neighborhood is the most conservative Catholic neighborhood in Lyon. Definitely not branché (hip) at all. I love it though because it has this really calm and sacred feel to it, filled with old spirits and history. It also has the most beautiful people, bcbg (bon chic bon genre) but in a parochially refined way.

Monoprix and My New Flip Video

I just bought a new flip video and I am so excited, so I am going to be annoying everyone with my new videoability or lack thereof. Hallie and I are taking off to do a little shopping at our favorite store, Monoprix, before we get inundated with snow.

Waiting for the Snow

Chez Nous

Our house, is a veryveryvery old house, with 2 dogs in the yard. (Okay, I'll stop. I am annoying myself too.)

Grace Bonney, most celebrated design blogger and charming lovely person, of whom I'm obviously a great fan, included our country house in les monts du lyonnais in the Sneak Peeks section of her website. I realize that I forgot to mention this months ago, when I included the feature of our Lyon apartment.

Since I truly need to learn to be more self-promotional in this century, to attain a modicum of recognition, I thought I would provide the link. Blahblah blah. Someday, this will come naturally.

But here's the thing. I have a new and exciting project on the horizon...an urban palace that I am hoping beyond all hope to renovate. So stay tuned. I am sure to publish it in the next century.

Encore de la Neige

This morning we woke up and Lyon was covered in snow. It was like magic.
Our apartment looks out on a square and all the terracotta rooftops of our neighborhood. Snow-covered. We are on the top floor so we see everything. The girls reluctantly put on hats and scarves and all the forgotten Winter gear. Hallie left for school at 7 and it was still pitch black. The sun came up before Abbie took off at 8, but barely. All the buses were canceled and many teachers did not make it to work at all. This is not a city used to snow, that's for sure.

Tonight, it snowed again and the streets were quiet and slushy. My dream would be for it all to disappear overnight, for the streets to
be clean and dry when I look out my window tomorrow morning — more overnight magic please.

Home is Where We Are...

It's the New Year. Bonne Année.

We just got back last night from 19 days in the states. I slept so well. Complex dreams, but a feeling of safety engulfed me. I was sleeping in my own little bed with my own 100% cotton sheets under my own little duvet in my eclectically designed room surrounded by all the quirky things that define me, with my 2 lovely daughters snuggled in their own little room under their own little duvets. Truly snug in our beds. Home.

I keep asking myself where I live? Where do I call home? All those who want me back in the states call the U.S. my home, but I realized last night, as I realize every time that I come back to France, that though while not perfect, France has become, for at least as long as I can see into the future, my home, the place where I feel most like myself, where I feel safe and clean and clear in my head.

Fall Descends

It has been really cold in Lyon and rainy. I do not love this change as I am not a Winter person at all. After all my years in the beautiful Hudson Valley and after shoveling more snow that I can possibly bare to think about, I have quietly admitted to all the defenders of Winter and the cold, that I don't like it. I don't like it at all. I had Winters in Red Hook, one in particular, where I swore I would embrace the season with great zeal. And I did. I bought the girls, then 8 and 11, new cross country skis. We used them once, maybe twice until one of the girls ended up in tears her hands were so cold, she could ski no more. And I bought Canadian ice skates. We skated on our bumpy pond, which was admittedly fun, just cold. I do love to skate.

Again I am going to try to embrace Winter, but here in Lyon where the season is admittedly milder, I think I have more chance of success. I'm gonna put my Winter on, tout de suite.

On Vacation in Charbonnières-les-bains

On Habite La!

I have been meaning to post this lovely sneak peek that Grace of design*sponge did of our apartment in Lyon. It's small (and I'm not kidding) but we now call it home! It will soon be featured in Grace's upcoming book project along with our country house in les Monts du Lyonnais.