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As soon as I stepped into the foyer of my friend Jacquiās late 18th-century building in the center of Paris last weekā¦I knew it would be special. Not like basic specialā¦.but special-special.
Not only because my friend has beautiful taste and a very exacting eye, but because everything about the building felt soā¦Paris. Grand emerald-green doors from the street that led into a marble parlor with a gleaming black-and-white checkerboard floor. Up the wide winding wood staircase (fun fact: many decades after the building was built, an ultra skinny lift was installed right down the middle of the eight-floor walkup).
My friend Jacqui was first a colleague, and one of our jobs together was traveling the worldāParis, Milan, London, Stockholm, etc.āfor innumerable meetings. I always looked forward to these trips, namely because she was someone who appreciated the quieter streets of the cities we were whizzing through as much as I did. Even if we only had 30 minutes to spare, I knew together we would find something rare and wonderful to eat or see along the way. Itās rare to make a dear friend later in life, but thatās precisely why itās so special. And it seemed from the minute she and her family decamped from their London home to Paris a few years ago, she was whispering to me⦠āCāmonā¦come for a visitā¦ā
Andā¦.so we did.
*P.S. Donāt miss our mini, magical guide to Paris at the bottom!
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