The Nouveaux Weds: A Flop

As I sit here looking outside at the slush coating the sidewalk, I am trying hard to hold back my tears. It has been almost ten hours since I sauntered down the stairs of 2 rue Pentiere, having attended a fantastic Hanukah party, and feeling very fortunate to have spent my day in festive snow-covered Paris, when those feelings of bliss came to an abrupt stop. As we had been told in the party just four floors above, this area of Paris is the safest. Sarkozy is also a resident of 75008, and therefore police are in abundance and crime is minimal. So why can’t the odds be against me in something like the lotto? But instead, sitting in the spot where my heinous Fit Flop boots once stood, was nothing but a dust bunny. And I know he didn’t steal them.

When we first moved to Paris almost one year ago I was very conscious of my attire. Did I look American? What needed to be done so that I meshed in with the black coats, chic hats, and sleek boots? But as winter is upon us once more, I no longer feel that need. Perhaps it is attributed to the fact that after three months, I am still picking up prescriptions for French vicodin in mangled French at the pharmacie, or perhaps it is because I am finally starting to feel at home here (and now that H&M is selling sweatpants on the Champs-Elysees, I may pull those out for daily wear as well). My FitFlop boots allow me to painlessly fly around the metro and RER, scurrying from lesson to lesson, and yesterday, helped to make the stint down Avenue Kleber far less treacherous in the newly fallen snow in which all the other Parisians had opted for their Chanel boots instead. It felt so good to be able to silently snicker as I cascaded without care, watching everyone else hobble and slide. Deep black slush at each corner? Bring it on.

But as I turned the corner on the staircase last night, knowing that my safe and warm walk to the metro was almost in sight, it was more than just a financial loss that stared back at me from an empty space next to the oak table in the foyer. I felt that part of my identity had been stolen, just when I was starting to get it back. As we return home in just a few days (barring no snow), I will find it quite interesting to see where I stand (and what I will be standing in). My life here has made me change in so many ways, and has made me compromise myself in ways I never imagined. I don’t dare say that it has been a flop, but I was fit to be tied last night. And I don’t think it was because I am now wearing Uggs instead.