when you think of me, think of me french.
Overnight the weather shifted from summer to fall. A tropical humidity became a cool briskness, the leaves already starting to drop from the sky. The cold air is comforting. No matter where I am, I find the aromas of fall are similar. And so I become nostalgic: thinking of my birthdays, halloween, chili on the stove; walking home from school, crushing leaves under my feet.
I think of days when the comfort of home and family were always available. At one point, when I decided I had to leave (which led me to Ireland), I felt I never wanted to be comfortable. I didn't want to be a home body. To rely on silly comforts and have them hold me back. I always wanted to be on the edge, ready to leave. I made an effort never to make a room of mine too comfortable. I refused to paint my walls in Ireland. I was fine with my awkward furniture and themeless room in Vancouver. Nowadays I like to be comfortable. I am not however, attached to my comforts. I have simply allowed myself to be comfortable no matter where I am. And now when I arrive in Vancouver; France; Northern Ireland; soon Toronto, I feel I am arriving home.
My mom is flying to Paris in a few days. She is going to get her hair done, and tells me 'when you think of me, think of me French'. I already do. For as long as I've known her, my mother has embraced the French lifestyle and culture. When she discovered France, she discovered a part of herself, something clicked. She discovered their love of sex, good food, slow dinners, wine, conversation, beautiful clothing; everything that deserves to be loved. And upon these discoveries, she found herself a new home.
When I feel good I feel French. When I am dressed to the nines and tasting a fine wine, I feel French. When I feel sexy, I feel French. I too, fell in love with France, the French, and their mouth watering culture. My palette is undoubtedly French. I enjoy slow meals, several courses, coffee or cheese for dessert. I like rich foods and yoghurt after my meals. I like a coffee and pastry for my breakfast. I respect a culture that closes it's stores for a two hour lunch. Where women, and men, don't talk endlessly about diets and restricting themselves. It is indulgence without the guilt..and it never felt so good.
So when you think of me, think of me French. Sensual, indulgent; a suggestive smile on pursed lips.
I think of days when the comfort of home and family were always available. At one point, when I decided I had to leave (which led me to Ireland), I felt I never wanted to be comfortable. I didn't want to be a home body. To rely on silly comforts and have them hold me back. I always wanted to be on the edge, ready to leave. I made an effort never to make a room of mine too comfortable. I refused to paint my walls in Ireland. I was fine with my awkward furniture and themeless room in Vancouver. Nowadays I like to be comfortable. I am not however, attached to my comforts. I have simply allowed myself to be comfortable no matter where I am. And now when I arrive in Vancouver; France; Northern Ireland; soon Toronto, I feel I am arriving home.
My mom is flying to Paris in a few days. She is going to get her hair done, and tells me 'when you think of me, think of me French'. I already do. For as long as I've known her, my mother has embraced the French lifestyle and culture. When she discovered France, she discovered a part of herself, something clicked. She discovered their love of sex, good food, slow dinners, wine, conversation, beautiful clothing; everything that deserves to be loved. And upon these discoveries, she found herself a new home.
When I feel good I feel French. When I am dressed to the nines and tasting a fine wine, I feel French. When I feel sexy, I feel French. I too, fell in love with France, the French, and their mouth watering culture. My palette is undoubtedly French. I enjoy slow meals, several courses, coffee or cheese for dessert. I like rich foods and yoghurt after my meals. I like a coffee and pastry for my breakfast. I respect a culture that closes it's stores for a two hour lunch. Where women, and men, don't talk endlessly about diets and restricting themselves. It is indulgence without the guilt..and it never felt so good.
So when you think of me, think of me French. Sensual, indulgent; a suggestive smile on pursed lips.
posted by Gillian Young at 1:29 AM
1 Comments:
I too, share the same feelings when thinking of France. Simple things, like eating crepes and croissants transport me to a land where culture and taste is everywhere. No other country has ever made me want to live its lifestyle like France. With only one visit it solidified where and how I would have to spend the rest of my life; across the Seine, sipping cafe aux lait while watching locals come and go.
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