Welcome to 6, Mandel

Jean-Christophe is your host.

He’ll hand you the ever-so-elegant key.

You’ll have the Art Nouveau townhouse’s sole room—lovely, don’t you think??—to yourself.

Come down to the kitchen for a bite. Or order up some cooking lessons.

Take in the art—there’s always a rotating exhibition.

And, of course, enjoy the views.

The garden.

Enjoy having your little piece of private heaven in the middle of Paris.

Work around the web

Food...


…and fashion.

I’m loving my job lately, but I also still love writing for HiP Paris, Girls Guide to Paris and The Moment.

Summer awakening

Lately, I have been alternatively jonesing for a new wardrobe and feeling absolutely uninspired and indifferent to fashion. But this weekend, I splurged a little. I went back to Merci to buy an Edun bracelet and also walked out with new earrings, a T-shirt and a fabulous Helmut Lang party dress (now I just need a party…).

I’m also reading a great profile on Mickey Drexler in the Wall Street Journal Magazine. Although I know all of my American friends are shuddering at the thought, given my current access to fabulous French brands, I’d do anything to be able to pop into a J. Crew right now and buy a boatload of tops, flats and accessories. They’re doing such a fabulous job with design.

My new favorite store

A year+ into my Parisian adventure, it’s easy to start feeling like I know this city. So it always adds a skip to my step when I stumble upon something—be it a patisserie, boutique, tea salon, gallery, garden or just a special view—that I’ve never seen before.

So it was last week as I was strolling up the lower part of rue du Temple. Amidst the uninspiring cafes and cheap-y stores, one vitrine beckoned. I stopped and admired the urban-preppy wares in the window. I peered in. I saw wood slat floors, industrial light fixtures, primary colors and plaids and stripes, hanging from bare-bones racks. I went in, discovered a company called Bellerose, and promptly fell in love.

The space reminds me of Scandinavia meets New York, circa 1983. (But, a-ha! They’re actually Belgian, those sly fashion-y ones!)

The newspaper catalog reminds me of W before it became the oversized heavyweight that it is (like many other girls, I wanted to be a fashion designer when I was younger and my dad subscribed me to W, giving me and my friends an endless supply of really cool fashion spreads and ads to hang on our walls).

And the clothes remind me of rich preppy kids at New England boarding schools.

If I weren’t’ currently purging my closet in an effort to live more simply, I would scoop up their chinos and sundresses and windbreakers and super-soft t-shirts. Since I’m not in the market, I’ll have to just enjoy the dreaming they inspire.

I dream of Moschino

I don’t really. But I always love their vitrines on rue de Grenelle. Especially the way this picture came out—so dreamy: the black, the white; the earthling, the animals; two worlds, merging into one.

Heart & soles

If you ever see some Lanvin shoes on sale, I suggest you buy them. If only for the shoebox.
I thought the chocolatiers delivered their goods in decadent and generous boxes, they have nothing on this beauty. It will make the perfect letterbox. (So please send me some mail, amigos!)

So, do you love 'em?

All I want for Christmas

If you were asking yourself, “Hmmm… what could I get Amy for Christmas this year?” I’ve put together this little wish list.

• A book contract
• The teal Alma
• A pink convertible
• A French pastry chef
• A lifetime supply of dried pineapple. Or chocolate pralinés. Or Pierre Hermé macarons.
• Ruinart rosé
• Private yoga lessons
• A 35-hour workweek

That’s all.

A change of pace

So, agency life is going to change again. We’re moving to LV. Part of the agreement of winning the relaunch is that we’d work in-house, at least part-time. This is exciting on many levels. My commute will now be a 10 minute walk and I won’t have to battle the crowds on the Champs-Elysées—though I will miss the Christmas lights which will be turned on soon. Similarly, I won’t miss the near-death experiences riding the Velibs in the morning (just kidding, mom). But that also means no more riding through Place Vendome or Place de la Concorde—two gorgeous highlights of my commute.

This also means I have to step up my wardrobe. Dang. Everyone there is going to be decked out in designer duds. I’m already in a wardrobe slump, not loving my fall options and feeling too poor to shop. My strategy for now is to buy some killer boots, one fabulous sweater and a great top. That’ll do me… unless the LV employees are really all that. Or unless we get the coveted discount…

I have loved this office from day one (what’s not to love?). But change is good. I’m ready.