The Pied-À-Terre

I was following Stephanie in the busy alleys of Le Bon Marché as she was pushing her cart with ease and grace, wearing a gorgeous, flowy trench and a fabulous clutch of her own design.

I was relishing in this quintessential Parisian moment. 

“See, this is your new neighborhood!” she said, putting a loaf of fresh bread into her cart. And then: “Should we get some cheese?”

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I just got a pied-à-terre in Paris. It’s a pretty one-bedroom apartment in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, between the Seine and the Café de Flore. It has everything I need: a lovely kitchen, a bright living room, and perfectly aged wooden floors. A view of a courtyard, a bathroom with two windows, and a short walk to Le Bon Marché.

It’s small and contained, it doesn’t beg for your attention.

It’s not the star of the show—it’s just a place.

We were walking in the streets of Amsterdam with my husband yesterday and he was talking about his friend Lotte who, after a few years in LA and some in London, had finally been drawn back hom…