Sunday, July 24, 2011


Still missing G and M.  But looking forward to fancy NYE times + P in the southa France.

Mini (and working) elevators at the Galerie Perrotin, where we saw the Duchamp/Beuys/Murakami exhibit.  Also, B's new ndc shoes are swell, no?  If you don't know ndc, please check it.  The quality and workmanship is just exquisite.  Their goods are worth every penny, er, centime spent.

But about the exhibit, we came to see the Murakami works, really, and this being my first Murakami exhibit, I was surprised at how much I didn't like it.  I thought:  his stuff is cute, I love cute, I'll love it!  But I found his work flat and dull and, well, I simply thought it wasn't cute enough to make me want to squeal or squeeze it or snuggle it like I feel when I see something that is truly cute.  His character designs weren't interesting enough to me, and the fact that the art was all prints left me even colder.  At least I learned something about myself that day, and it's that I do not like the art of Takashi Murakami.  OK, I might dig his sculpture, but the prints, not so much.

Speaking of sculpture, the art part of the day was saved for me when we headed to the Miro as Sculptor exhibit at the Musee Maillol.  Check the link and some examples will flash before your eyes.  It's cool stuff in a primative but... hmmm... lighthearted way.

These taste like Thanksgiving.

Lobster sandwich indoor "picnic" at Spring.  (We did the tasting menu there a few weeks back and it was magnificent.  But really, if you wanna taste, call now for a reservation.)  You can read more about the (American) chef of Spring and other peeps dishing out the good stuff in Paris these days in this article.

B and I couldn't help comparing the Spring sammy to our beloved roll from the Philly Oyster House.  After tossing the merits of each back and forth, we called it a tie.  Oh, and we had some goose-fat fries (with fresh orange zest--these are grown-up fries, people!) to go with our rolls.  Miiiiaaaaam.

After filling our bellies with lobdah, we ran into this guy--one of the largest specimens I'd ever seen.  Look!  His pincer is the size of B's hand!  Oh, meaty deliciousness!

Incredible vintage buttons (each different) on a French vintage hunting vest.  This museum-worthy piece is now hanging in our apartment.

More evidence that my neighborhood is the best:  the roads move to accommodate pleasure craft.  Cool.