Whenever the Paris portion of the tour takes place people stand back. They already know. Ask Tina questions now, on this bus, in this airport, on this train - because once you get your hotel keys, I AM OUT! People experienced the wake of my dust shortly after making sure the "suite" was actually a suite and my 30 hours in Paris wouldn't be cut short by finding a better hotel.
We started at Mama Shelter. The only place in town with an actual brunch that goes until 4:30pm. Do you see the conundrum. I'm in Paris. I'm eating AFTER 2:30 during the no FOOD zone - you may get a crepe or a moule from a chain restaurant but mostly you're dealing with coldcuts and cheese until dinner time. And dinner on SUNDAY??? Could not start until 7pm.
2nd part of this conundrum....I said "brunch". In my almost 3 decades of visiting my 2nd country, the concept of brunch has NEVER existed. Like cranberry juice didn't exist in the 90's? Neither did brunch until good old Mama Shelter in the 20th....so far away yet so good, next to Pere Lachaise where you can grab a beer and a joint and hang out at Jim Morrison's grave with the rest of the hippies. MAMA SHELTER has internet and pancakes and crepes and crispy bacon and Mimosas and horribly bloody marys but at least they try, and MUSIC....all the music I go on the road with. Every song has Ahmir or Pino or even D playing in the background.
After this we hung at a Sunday tea party of sorts at this African marketplace called Le Comptoir. Apparently Africans are now all the rage because the only ones there worked there. To be en vogue. Needless to say we moved on to the next spot....that I can't remember the name of, but I think they were Caribbean and West Africanish. Whatevs. The wings, plaintains and caiprinhas were banging. The toilette was gross but what else is new in Paris.
We then wandered into some small bar that I want to replicate on Crenshaw or maybe on Jefferson just off of Crenshaw. Max 50 people. Cutest thing you've ever seen where we got hit on by a first generation Chinese girl with possibly the worst English EVER but had THE most fun singing all songs (all American of course) wish she and her friends. We were crashing someones going away party...but they served Hibiki and so....ya know. We had to stay.
The next morning I had to jump up for my traditional hair appointment at Polished Hair Care. This gem of a spot is operated by Richmond, CA own Nicole Pembrook so you KNOW my edges are straight. That's my problem out here. Black hair care is so new. My poor sistren been running around with half done weaves, dried out perms and fuzzy edges. Edges STAY fuzzy. Thank God Michelle Obama has shed some light on what an edge truly is. I now have a reference when interviewing these hairdressers. It's not a game this relaxed life out here on the road. Not. A. Game.
After dipping from her shop in the thick of the Champs Elysees, I jump on the metro to head to my eyeglass spot who's name I can NEVER remember in Le Marais. Except this time I get lost. I get so entangled in the Marais that I NEVER find my shop, I did however find a cute and marginally expensive store called "Swildens" where the shopkeeper spoke to me in French , did not try to shade my French and we had a lovely hour of trying on clothes, getting directions and contacting my bank to get my card unblocked. Pure communication.
After which I rushed back to the hotel to set up for the massive Palais des Congres where I met my juicy adorable Parisienne Niece who has never been to a big show. She was so excited and so sweet my heart melts whenever I visit my Neela Vanilla.
Followed by the man who will forever call me his "future ex wife" yasin Bey. Hilarity at its finest. He brought the likes of Michelle Lamy - Rick Owens' wife who ROCKS it at 70..... I just love older women and younger men. Go figure.
Followed by a FANTASTIC show filled with all the drama of going onstage late, needing to cut 2 songs and avoiding a 10k penalty if the clock strikes 11:01pm....Damned if he didn't end at 10:59:45. Seriously. I shouted like we won the lotto. Because we did.
How does one fit all of that into 30 hours you ask? Chiiiiile, I can't wait til my day off in London.
We started at Mama Shelter. The only place in town with an actual brunch that goes until 4:30pm. Do you see the conundrum. I'm in Paris. I'm eating AFTER 2:30 during the no FOOD zone - you may get a crepe or a moule from a chain restaurant but mostly you're dealing with coldcuts and cheese until dinner time. And dinner on SUNDAY??? Could not start until 7pm.
2nd part of this conundrum....I said "brunch". In my almost 3 decades of visiting my 2nd country, the concept of brunch has NEVER existed. Like cranberry juice didn't exist in the 90's? Neither did brunch until good old Mama Shelter in the 20th....so far away yet so good, next to Pere Lachaise where you can grab a beer and a joint and hang out at Jim Morrison's grave with the rest of the hippies. MAMA SHELTER has internet and pancakes and crepes and crispy bacon and Mimosas and horribly bloody marys but at least they try, and MUSIC....all the music I go on the road with. Every song has Ahmir or Pino or even D playing in the background.
After this we hung at a Sunday tea party of sorts at this African marketplace called Le Comptoir. Apparently Africans are now all the rage because the only ones there worked there. To be en vogue. Needless to say we moved on to the next spot....that I can't remember the name of, but I think they were Caribbean and West Africanish. Whatevs. The wings, plaintains and caiprinhas were banging. The toilette was gross but what else is new in Paris.
We then wandered into some small bar that I want to replicate on Crenshaw or maybe on Jefferson just off of Crenshaw. Max 50 people. Cutest thing you've ever seen where we got hit on by a first generation Chinese girl with possibly the worst English EVER but had THE most fun singing all songs (all American of course) wish she and her friends. We were crashing someones going away party...but they served Hibiki and so....ya know. We had to stay.
The next morning I had to jump up for my traditional hair appointment at Polished Hair Care. This gem of a spot is operated by Richmond, CA own Nicole Pembrook so you KNOW my edges are straight. That's my problem out here. Black hair care is so new. My poor sistren been running around with half done weaves, dried out perms and fuzzy edges. Edges STAY fuzzy. Thank God Michelle Obama has shed some light on what an edge truly is. I now have a reference when interviewing these hairdressers. It's not a game this relaxed life out here on the road. Not. A. Game.
After dipping from her shop in the thick of the Champs Elysees, I jump on the metro to head to my eyeglass spot who's name I can NEVER remember in Le Marais. Except this time I get lost. I get so entangled in the Marais that I NEVER find my shop, I did however find a cute and marginally expensive store called "Swildens" where the shopkeeper spoke to me in French , did not try to shade my French and we had a lovely hour of trying on clothes, getting directions and contacting my bank to get my card unblocked. Pure communication.After which I rushed back to the hotel to set up for the massive Palais des Congres where I met my juicy adorable Parisienne Niece who has never been to a big show. She was so excited and so sweet my heart melts whenever I visit my Neela Vanilla.
Followed by the man who will forever call me his "future ex wife" yasin Bey. Hilarity at its finest. He brought the likes of Michelle Lamy - Rick Owens' wife who ROCKS it at 70..... I just love older women and younger men. Go figure.Followed by a FANTASTIC show filled with all the drama of going onstage late, needing to cut 2 songs and avoiding a 10k penalty if the clock strikes 11:01pm....Damned if he didn't end at 10:59:45. Seriously. I shouted like we won the lotto. Because we did.
How does one fit all of that into 30 hours you ask? Chiiiiile, I can't wait til my day off in London.
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