A French Dispatch
Fall in Paris & London
October brings to Scotland rain, rain, and more rain — and that’s why we went to Paris. Reading week rolls around every fall semester, emptying St Andrews of its student population as people traipse off to Spain or Portugal or France. Going to Paris together is something Emma and I have talked about doing since we first met in second year and seemed fitting for our final fall break at university, so we ended up spending half of our time in London and half in Paris, as train tickets were easier and cheaper, which was the perfect balance of cities we love spending time in.
One morning we stopped for a mocha and a cardamom bun at a favorite cafe, Monocle, then met a friend of ours at The Wallace Collection, a small curated museum in Marylebone with a special collection on dog portraits, which featured an extensive selection of David Hockney’s paintings of his two (rather round) dachshunds. We re-caffeinated at Kiss the Hippo, a coffee shop I’ve been meaning to try in Fitzrovia, wandered through the ever-wonderful British Museum, and popped into Present & Correct’s new location (heavenly, if you love stationary shops as much as I do), finishing up with some Korean fried chicken in the Seven Dials Market.
We walked through Regent’s Park and sat in cozy eateries on crisp, late fall afternoons, and one evening Emma and I went to see The Royal Ballet perform Don Quixote at The Royal Opera House. The performance was one of the most incredible I have ever seen — the opera house was stunning, the orchestra was absolutely perfect, and their principal dancers were genuinely jaw-dropping. Since both of us are former ballet dancers, going to see ballets is something we try to do when we have the opportunity, and it’s so special to me.
The rest of our time in London was spent consuming a superb breakfast at Dishoom (who knew?), realizing we maybe didn’t pack for weather that cold, popping in shops, and exploring formerly un-walked areas of the city. We spent a morning in Notting Hill, eating at the most fabulous breakfast place called Granger & Co and stopping into a delightful cookbook store called Books for Cooks. I love the neighborhoods in Notting Hill — it’s a place of elegance and very expensive baby strollers. London is always kind of a treat to visit, somewhere I know well but never fail to find new nooks and crannies.
Then, it was the Eurostar to Paris. We spent three blustery, only slightly drizzly days in the city, wandering around Le Marais and the 9eme. Thick scarves and boyfriend jeans are in, pain au chocolat cost less than coffees, and the tree leaves are just starting to turn a burnt color in Jardin des Tuileries, in their neat, perfect rows. We drank Sancerre and ate baguettes, completed crosswords at Lézard Café, and had perfect skinny frites at Sir Winston. We went to Le Procope, the oldest cafe in Paris, and I had one of their hot coffee cocktails which was cool but not as cool as seeing Napoleon’s hat on the way to the bathroom — unable to pay for his drinks, he left it there for collateral.
We walked, a lot. I think I could spend weeks just walking through Paris, block by block, supplemented by the occasional crème brûlée or pharmacy browse. Paris is, in that infuriating way, effortlessly cool, a place where I want to put effort into my outfit or try something new at the patisserie, if only because acting otherwise would be doing the city a disservice.
I finally saw Monet’s “Water Lilies” at Musée de L’Orangerie. Nothing compares. I felt like I was swimming, moving through those two rooms of the most beautiful melded colors; if you stand stock still and just stare long enough, willow boughs and submerged lilies kind of drift into your peripheral. The two other museums on our list were Musée Yves Saint Laurent and Hôtel de la Marine. The latter was, according to Emma’s mom, “basically Versailles,” which turned out to be accurate. The Yves Saint Laurent museum was a small building near the Arc de Triomphe, with beautiful dresses, ad campaigns, and sketches — it was masterfully curated.
Shakespeare & Co., one of my most beloved bookstores, was duly visited and I obtained a copy of Earnest Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast to read on a bench in the garden near the Eiffel Tower. As many before have said, it really is the perfect book to read while you visit — filled with earnest (sorry), clarified writing that I deeply loved. One of the better books I have read recently and the best book by a Lost Generation writer I’ve read, condolences to Fitzgerald.
Emma took me to one of her favorite spots, Happy Nouilles, and I don’t think I have ever consumed noodles that good. Its outside seating was packed to the gills and I watched the man through the window pulling the dough two, four, six times until he held a ribbon of perfect noodles — it was chaotic, in the way that verifies its status as the local spot. All I know is that my bowl was filled with Chinese bacon, bok choy, homemade noodles, and topped with a hefty handful of parsley, and it was incredible.
Morning pastries were consumed from Stohrer, the oldest patisserie in Paris, and Le Pain Retrouvé, a cleverly named bakery with a line out the door every morning. The routine is an easy one to fall into and there’s just this quiet anticipation of knowing you have a full day ahead. We could explore the entire city on foot or spend the entire afternoon sipping espressos and people-watching at a cafe, and I would feel equally content.
Truly the only problem we had to contend with was the villainous bedbugs, which you may have heard invaded Paris and are continuing their tyrannic rule in London. We essentially prepared for war and were rewarded with no hitchhikers, thankfully, but I do not think it was nearly as bad as the internet made it out to be. There was a dramatic, arduous travel day back to St Andrews, but it’s not a reading week trip if it doesn’t involve a variety of canceled planes, trains, and automobiles.
But I would endure ten cancelled trains for Paris, if only to spend another day by the Seine or watching the Eiffel Tower sparkle at dusk. Hemingway writes:
“There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were nor how it was changed nor with what difficulties nor what ease it could be reached. It was always worth it and we received a return for whatever we brought to it.
I think that the last line represents the best of travel or temporary residence, this kind of give and take. I don’t know if I can ever really bring anything new to a place besides enthusiasm or appreciation, but I have a feeling that’s exactly what Hemingway means. He’s right about all of it: Paris is always worth it.
“Rory Gilmore is Actually a Terrible Role Model” — It’s time for a hot take. This is a piece I wrote for Her Campus, as I love Gilmore Girls in the fall and it’s a wonderful show, but Rory’s character drives me crazy sometimes and I thought it would be funny to write about all of the bad decisions she makes. She has often been regarded as a model of do-goodery and academic achievement, and while I love her dedication to a good book, it was time to learn some lessons. This was a fun one!
For Hearing Aid, I wrote a little review of Cautious Clay’s album that came out in August; I love Clay’s older stuff but his newest work is pretty unique. Read it here.
I decided that I wanted to read more plays this year, so I recently picked up August: Osage County by Tracy Letts, which won the Pulitzer for drama in 2008 and had an acclaimed run on Broadway. The best way I can describe this play is that if you’ve watched The Bear, the play feels like the “Fishes” episode in season two — shocking, slightly appalling, and showcasing American familial dysfunction of the highest order.
Aboard the Eurostar, I had plenty of time to read Julie and Julia by Julie Powell. Funny, endearing, and made me never want to rent an apartment in NYC and never attempt to make my own mayonnaise, this is a rare case where I prefer the movie (Amy and Meryl!!) to the book.
Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI by David Gunn has been popular in the media recently because its movie counterpart came out this month. I enjoyed the detective story and the sinister plot, but I think non-fiction wasn’t what I needed to be reading alongside my English work! Too many different names and characters for me to keep straight.
Even after spending four years with the book-a-week workload, it has not become any easier to wade through a postmodern tome written with only a vague indication of a plot or point that goes on for what feels like eons. However, an exception was made for Don DeLillo’s White Noise, whose 300+ pages I flew right through. When I find a writing style I like, it’s as if page count doesn’t exist — DeLillo kind of tucks in these lovely little musings on life and relationships in amongst odd mundane observations and such perfect turns of phrase. It’s an odd book to be sure, but I love a social satire and this one is particularly interesting up against recent current events like the pandemic. Would definitely recommend it, if only because you find yourself compelled to underline little jokes and moving descriptions of suburbia.
Bao Soho hasn’t left my mind since I ate there three weeks ago. Emma took us to this tiny little nook that serves bao buns in addition to an array of unique starter plates and drinks. Interestingly enough, though their buns were divine and the Taiwanese beer refreshing, the desert — a fried Horlicks ice cream — was genuinely the best dessert I’ve eaten in months. The ice cream has a toasty, malted milk flavor and is served in between a fried bao bun with a hint of crispy sugar coating. It reminded me a bit of a brioche ice cream sandwich, but better. The restaurant has a Michelin Bib Gourmand (award for best value for money, which we corroborated) and it is 100% worth visiting — for the ice cream bao alone.
I forgot how much I loved crème brûlée until I went on a hunt for it in Paris, and then remembered my mom’s crème brûlée oatmeal. She makes this recipe every winter; when we were in elementary and middle school, she always made this oatmeal on snow days when school had been canceled. It’s a special breakfast and as the season turns and it’s perfect for a morning when you have a little time to spare and enjoy it.
Mom’s crème brûlée oatmeal
1 1/2 cup oats (non instant)
3 cups milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
pinch of salt
1 teaspoon white sugar
1 teaspoon brown sugar
In a saucepan, bring milk to a boil. Add oats, vanilla, cinnamon, and salt and cook 5-8 minutes. Transfer to ramekins and sprinkle with sugars. Put under broiler until the sugar is hard and crusty.
And I made homemade pop-tarts this month, which turned out way better than expected! Nothing compares to those shiny, crinkly-wrapped squares, but these were a treat. My only suggestion: they fit perfectly in the toaster but you’ll make a mess if you ice them before you toss them in; save it until after and sprinkle with some dusting sugar for that classic shine.
Other recipes on heavy rotation this month: these amazing coconut curry meatballs, Emily’s pumpkin bars, my favorite shallot-goats cheese-chili honey grilled cheeses, hearty soups, and pumpkin pancakes.
I’ve been falling into a lot of 90s R&B recently, listening to albums like D’Angelo’s Voodoo, Sade’s Love Deluxe, and “Come Back to Me” by Janet Jackson. It feels nostalgic, easy to listen to while studying, and very cold-weather inclined. More modern artists like Thundercat, a Canadian R&B artist, have also been on repeat because I can still remember the fall (or was it late summer?) when some friends introduced me and my brother to his music. He’s been featured on singles from artists like Kendrick and Gorillaz, but I’m still partial to his 2017 album, Drunk.
The Dip is a band I had never heard of before, and then happened upon someone’s insane acoustic cover of their song “State Line” and instantly fell in love. Their eponymous album The Dip is upbeat, feel-good R&B and I love it.
Also, I would be remiss not to mention that I have been listening to 1989 (Taylor’s Version) because it is the only Taylor Swift album I have any nostalgic connection to. I can literally transport myself back to the fall of sixth grade, to my best friend’s room where we listened to the newly-minted 1989 on her baby blue Crosley, dancing around and singing for literal hours on end.
This outfit combo: Walker Slater button-down, black jeans, and loafers. Walker Slater is my favorite clothing shop in Edinburgh and I dragged my mom in there when we visited earlier this year. They have the most beautiful, tailored clothing, from button-downs to blazers to suits. I bought a lovely blue soft-cotton button-down that I’ve been pairing with a pair of black Seven for All Mankind straight-leg jeans and my light brown Everlane loafers. It’s put-together and a little on the preppy side, but comfy enough to wear to class or out to breakfast in the 9eme.
Baboon to the Moon Go-Bag. I’ve sung the praises of this bag brand before, but after taking two back-to-back trips with only a “personal item” (thanks for nothing, Ryanair), this bag has honestly saved me. I have the Small 40L size and it fits a lot — I’ve packed for over a week in it but also stuffed it to the brim for a two-day trip, too. It’s durable, waterproof, and you can wear it as a backpack or as a duffel. I’ve been able to pass it off as a personal item on most (but not all) of my Ryanair flights and it is the #1 best item you could have while studying abroad in any capacity!
La Rosée regenerative stick mask. I’d heard vague compliments about the brand La Rosée when doing my pre-shop research and so made a beeline for their shelf in the pharmacy. The stick form is so convenient because it doesn’t get my fingers dirty and all I have to do is swipe it on a couple minutes before I shower. It’s made with white clay and smells super fresh and clean, kind of like a lightly floral tea. The company is also completely clean and uses natural ingredients, which is always a plus!
I acquired a substantial amount of loot from the French pharmacies, which are my little personal meccas, so I will be returning home broke, but with amazing skin. Below, a couple of suggestions as to what you should be adding to your basket should you ever find yourself inside the hallowed white walls of Citypharma or the pharmacie at Les Halles. Some people come for the Hermes, I come for the Phyto.
Embryolisse Lait-Crème Concentré — they’ve changed the packaging (sad) but this is still the best lightweight, basic, priming moisturizer on the market
Homeoplasmine — Aquaphor, but French
Klorane Dry Shampoo — bought this on a rec from…everyone
Caudalie Vinoperfect Serum — retails for $115 in the U.S. and is about €60 in France, enough said
Biafine — a household staple, this is a burn cream that is perfect for sunburns (if you have a beach house or brother that lifeguards)
Nuxe Huile Prodigieuse — this cult body oil comes in lightly-golden shimmer, floral, and neroli variations, and all are worth it
PhytoDefrisant— a pre-blowout balm that’s easy to use, and at this point if it says “anti-frizz” it’s in my basket
Caudalie Beauty Elixir — weird (tingly! minty!) the fist time you use it, and then suddenly you’re hooked
La Roche-Posay Cicaplast Baume B5 — the best barrier-repairing balm, a great winter staple
Innoxa Goutes Bleues — still my favorite eye drops
Thank you for reading this month! October has been borderline insane and I’m anticipating November to be even more so, but that’s life in the Martinmas semester. I did also take a quick trip to Copenhagen this month, but I didn’t have the time (or the space) to properly pay it tribute in this edition. Next month!
I’m feeling very grateful to be moving into November with abundant travel experiences and friends to share them with. There’s much to be thankful for!
I sometimes post on Instagram @gracerobrts!
My Goodreads is here and I am always looking for reading recommendations.
My Apple Music is @gracecroberts, where my playlists are regularly updated and cared for.
If you should need to contact me for any other reason, or just want to say hi, my email is gracecroberts@gmail.com, and my inbox is always in need of some extra love.
See you next month!
Sincerely yours,
Grace
Will I forgive you for going to a cookbook store without me? Probably, but only because they would be in French.