Some of you may remember that I'm an old bottle collector (remember friends and grammarians, it's still the bottles that are old) from previous posts. After those first two collected for my college apartment and thereafter migrated to South Texas, there was this very special trio that found its way into my collection. This was one of the first (and last--more on that another blog day) Christmas presents ever given to me by my wife. It's one of my favorite presents. Ever. I'm not quite sure how old the glass perfume bottles are, but they have been part of my life nearly 25 years and they were already old when they joined my barely-a-collection collection. Most couples exchange much perfume and cologne over their happily married years, but I assure you not many husbands would be as thrilled to receive old empty French perfume bottles as this old bottle collector was.
Imagine how surprised and thrilled we both were, then, as we walked past a small, but incredibly fragrant shop just a few blocks away from our hotel on the Champs-Élysées and spied a hundred nearly identical bottles on display! Sparkling brilliantly on glass shelves at the entrance to Guerlain and overflowing with floral fluidity from within, the new, sleeker (unlike me, the bottles were now less rotund than 25 years ago) bottles, still embellished with embossed bees and topped with that familiar etched round orb, beckoned us in for an olfactory treat. After a bubble-wrapped transatlantic journey within the folds of my weekend laundry, a small bumble-bee-emblazoned bottle bearing a sufficiently masculine albeit herby fragrance has now joined its ancestral brethren, an ever-fragrant souvenir of our Valentine stroll.
After enjoying our confectious (go with it) treats that afternoon and leaving Laduree with a souvenir box of the beautiful Marie Antoinette tea (honey-citrus-rose petal) we had just enjoyed, Mari and I indulged in a little window shopping at the festively decorated gourmet shops of the Madeleine district, including this vivacious Valentine's display at Fauchon, a gorgeously bright deli and cake shop decked out for sentimental romantics and cheese fanciers alike. Without a heart-shaped brie on hand to gift her romantic gastronome trip-planner, Mari settled for a ceramic (TSA-friendly) crock of Dijon mustard, knowing full well that any box of chocolates would have paled in comparison.
Visit the tempting site if you dare.
It's still Friday, not quite fleamarket day, and we have one last stop. I did keep a few surprises from my ever-supportive and always deserving wife and both would be found on Valentine's evening at the top of the Eiffel Tower (or as close to the top as we could reasonably afford). For the insanely romantic (thank you, I resemble that remark) dinner at the Eiffel Tower on Valentine's Day is a foregone conclusion. As Mari has said, I'm ridiculous, and I admit it! I'm not LeJulesVerne (upper level) ridiculous, however, but I am 58 Tour Eiffel (lower level) ridiculous.
Visit the Eiffel Tower restaurants site for helpful planning information and sample menus.
Surrounded by a beautiful evening view of the glimmering city bursting with historic buildings and bustling population, Mari and I relaxed for a few hours, contemplating our surroundings and our blessings. When a photographer landed at our table and asked if we'd like a souvenir photo, I jumped at the chance to surprise my wife once more. She wasn't my wife the first time I proposed, but she was now and this time I knew she'd accept.
Would have been an awkward trip
back to Texas if she had not.
I stood up to stand at Mari's side for the souvenir photo and motioned to the photographer with my best French pantomime that I had a surprise. As he focused, I knelt by Mari and proffered the ring that had been burning a hole in my pocket since I had discovered it about 5 months prior. A bright round moonstone glowed back at me from her finger as I reclaimed the seat across from my wife, brighter than any moon that had ever favored us with its evening dazzle.
That's two surprise proposals now, if you are keeping count.
All romantic nonsense aside, Mari and I have come to the non-romantic revelatory but perfectly happy (and sane) realization that dining out, especially dinner, on Valentine's Day is not worth the hype (or wait). The food (special menu) and service was excellent at 58 Tour Eiffel and the views and experience unforgettable, but like our previous holiday dining (Thanksgiving Day) experience at Tavern on the Green (NYC, episode 4) we were left somewhat deflated. You can have a romantic dinner at Wienerschnitzel as long as you are with the right person and as long as she doesn't mind a little mustard with her moonstone.
I promise we'll get to Les Puces next time. I keep getting sidetracked by silly things like love and mustard, but I've got some fabulous French fleamarketed finds to show you!
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