— “I didn't know what it was she had that I wanted.”

016 : Catherine Vreeland in Le Rostand near the Jardin du Luxembourg
Born in 20th century in Texas, Catherine Vreeland currently works as retired university professor (Japan) Why Paris? It’s my heart’s home. She digs the following Paris bits: 1. The Jardin du Luxembourg 2. The smell of the Metro 3. Sorbonne amphitheaters 4. Roller skaters at night 5. The terrasse at La Rotonde She is, however, a bit miffed by It's too far away from where she is now, hot movie theaters in July, steak tartare, closed shops mid-day, la crotte des chiens For more info on Catherine Vreeland you should send an email or visit her homepage.

image: Thomas Claveirole
“I didn't know what it was she had that I wanted.”

On a late afternoon in the Luxembourg Gardens I was relaxing in a metal armchair with a Cara Black mystery when I was distracted by a grubby girl, 20ish, who seemed to be looking for something to eat. She nimbly snatched the pain au chocolat^[1] a little boy had set on his au pair’s^[2] lap, and then plucked an apple resting at the top of an open backpack. She didn’t run away or fuss at all, so the au pair and the backpack boy did not realize their food had gone.

Graceful, secretive and stony-faced, the girl’s body language belied the message of her muckiness. I wanted to give her a dress and invite her to a party. She disappeared, I went back to my book, and then suddenly she was standing in front of me with her dirty, sticky hand out. I hesitated, but passed over a 20-euro note and watched her crumble it. She didn’t move. I read another couple of pages. She still didn’t move.

“Do you want a meal?” I asked in English.
“That’d be bang on,” she said, and I caught the irony of a possible design. An educated ragamuffin? And with the secret of solo survival? More than mystery, she seemed to have promise, to be living (or rehearsing a role?) at a very interesting way station, but I didn’t know what it was she had that I wanted.
“Let’s go across the street,” I said, getting up and walking toward the fountain, heading for Le Rostand.^[3] She came along, silent.

In the big, noisy café, I was careful not to suggest she wash her hands. I looked over the menu, ordered first, and got several dishes, to be encouraging. The girl ordered lots of meat, and wine.

“Do you speak any French?” I asked offhandedly, as if continuing a conversation, hoping to get her story to flow.
“I just got here,” she tossed back, “and I’m sleeping rough. This is good rôti^[4], but the wine is a little off.” She went back to eating, like a spy decoding a particularly difficult communiqué. I remembered my first days in Paris forty years earlier. I hadn’t had a shred of her élan. Could she show me what it felt like to be her?

Suddenly she stood up, bowed slightly with a sardonic grin on her face, said “Merci, Madame,” and scooted out of the restaurant. The garçon appeared instantly. I asked for l’addition^[5], feeling oddly bereft.

referenced works

Chocolate-filled pastry ↩

Live-in nanny ↩

Restaurant across from Luxembourg Gardens ↩

Roast meat dish ↩

The check ↩

location information

Name: near the Jardin du Luxembourg
Address: 6, Place Edmond Rostand Paris 75006
Time of story: Afternoon
Latitude: 48.8479
Longitude: 2.34056
Map: Google Maps

commentary

017 “I opened the hip high gate and found a green wooden bench in the shade” — Anne Schwartz

016 “I didn't know what it was she had that I wanted.” — Catherine Vreeland

015 “She was still there, with her shining coat of orange and the green belt of the RER C at her feet.” — Lily Templeton

014 “Paris is its own reason.” — Tory Hoen

013 “Gilded angels taking off from Châtelet, Bastille, Invalides” — Jennifer K. Dick

012 “A dialogue out of nowhere and from the 5th dimension” — Jussara Nunes

011 “I started screaming New York-style obscenities.” — Richard Nahem

010 “Her soul is okay though, she’s just received Holy Communion at Saint-Nicolas, one station before” — Tom Frozart

009 “It felt like if things continued the way they were, my body would disintegrate” — Chris Huntington

008 “It reminded me of an Yves Saint Laurent dress, of mermaids and of Christmas” — Catharine Hewitson

007 “I felt a sense of relief as I experienced the rare soothing absence of fluorescent light” — Kincaid

006 “My fist flew wildly and connected with the warm Parisian evening air” — John Greiner

005 “Someone handed me a plastic cup of white wine and I sipped it so I didn’t have to make conversation” — Claire Oldman

004 “The white winter sunshine makes it warm enough for tourists and locals to sit outside the cafe on the Place des Abbesses” — Badaude

003 “Two cans of beer in the thin plastic bag” — Bronwyn Mahoney

002 “Je ne suis pas une femme facile” — Lauren Elkin

001 “His guitar was underscoring my morning ride beyond Gare du Nord through the graffitied suburbs” — Tim Cissell

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