An American Girl in Paris
I can’t believe that it’s been almost a month since I landed back home in LA after taking the vacation that was five years in the making. In February, my Junior High bestie, Rebekah, and I booked the trip that we’d been talking about going on since we both fled Kentucky after graduation-she landed in Norway and I landed in crazy town. Luckily, Schecky as I like to call her, has made this trip before and knew enough to find the perfect places to stay and how to get everywhere we were going because Heaven help us if this Southerner had to plan anything other than a Starbucks order over there.
We met in London where we hung out for five days before taking the train to Paris and I’m not lying when I say that we literally ate, drank (cokes and costly tap water included) and shopped ourselves stupid for eight days before going back to our chosen countries of residence. If you witnessed the Snaps, you know I do not exaggerate. Aside from seeing everything I’d never seen before (I had my tourist notch turned on “High” and left no photo-opt behind) it was so great spending a week with someone who was such a huge part of my childhood and picking up right where we left off. Four weeks later and it already seems like a lifetime ago despite that jet lag that followed me home. Although I spent the first few days back in ‘Merica with major post-vacation depression, I feel lucky knowing that our adventures together didn’t end when we threw our caps up at graduation. Awww…right? So here, in no particular order other than chronological, is the Safe-for-Workplace version of An American Girl in Paris, Part Une.
On our first morning in London, Rebekah, who had the most impressive itinerary that ever existed (24 pages suckas!) and I hit up this farmers market where we ate a massive amount of strawberries and heirloom tomatoes for breakfast. Do I know where it was or what it was called? Le no. And so began a trend that would continue throughout the next week.
True Life I’m a Tourist and Sorry Not Sorry started at the London Eye where we took a lot of unpostable selfies, tried not to judge our fellow tourists hair product and failed at that attempt.
Because every time I see a pay phone now I need to take the most obnoxious picture while I sing Maroon 5 only pausing to get my Wiz Khalifa rhythm right.
Listen, I’m not trying to say we’re fancy or anything…but we did have High Tea at Kensington Palace and in case you don’t know the history of the Afternoon Tea in London, Please see: History of Afternoon Tea. Yes, you are welcome for the tidbit of knowledge.
I’ve seen this person day after day taking photos of the Lamborghini parked outside of the Ralph Lauren store on Rodeo Dr. and now I have become her.
I’m going to be one hundred percent honest here, this was the first time I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower IRL and it almost made me pee my pants. It was much more of a thing to me than I would have ever anticipated. Working in the fashion industry should have had me prepared for the magical feeling Paris was going to give me but it was incredible. I don’t think I’ve been any more excited to be anywhere in the world as I was to be standing where we stood when a stranger took this photo.
And then Rebekah took me to the Dior. “I FELL. I FELL IN DIOR!"
I didn’t. But I did buy sunglasses for absolutely no good reason at all except that I have zero self control. None.
The hotel Carrie was living in when Big rescued her from “that foreigner” in the most important episode of Sex and the City.
Selfies on selfies on selfies - my only regret is that you can’t see the Eiffel Tower in the reflection of my sunnies because it was right across the street from us while we were having lunch that day. Yes I spent the entire trip geeking out over that large…thing.
Don’t I have good taste in friends? I love this photo.
On our last night in Paris, we went home and changed out of our dresses and into our sneakers because 1) It was midnight and we’d had a liberal dose of champagne and 2) We “just” wanted to go for a run to the Louvre. I did some fun yoga poses in front of the pyramid but because I was wearing cut-offs and couldn’t keep my eyes open for the blurry shots, those photos will never see the light of day.
Le Perchoir for moscow mules and champagne, straight up.
My last Snap from our last night in France. By this point we had listened to every hit from 1997 ending with our favorite old school Usher - “They call me U-S-H-E-R-R-A-Y-M-O-N-D."
And because my tourist game was strong...