September 27, 2007


These shoes are the ones I'd wear on a night in Paris. Here's the scene. It's been raining but the night has cleared up leaving the stone streets glistening. I'm wearing a knee-length black trench and these shoes, and I'm on my way to meet Nate for dinner at a pretty cafe on Rue Cler. The cold and misty air smells of seafood and bread and turns my cheeks pink.

For one reason or another, we live in Paris. He still travels a lot and we haven't seen each other in nearly a week.

The scene is simple. I'm running diagonal across Rue Cler from the boulangerie to Cafe du Marche {ala Carrie Bradshaw in heels} where Nate is waiting at a small table on the front patio. He looks up from the menu and smiles, then stands to kiss me as I approach. Just then, off in the distance, Edith Piaf begins to sing something about love in French. Scene.


Jessica said...

Great story!

Alyssa Coberly said...

lovely shoes ... too bad you can fly to paris for $348 (hehe) they are gorg! though

tim & brandi said...

What is this a J. Peterman catalog?