(^86) – SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2019 everythingzoomer.com
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came well-worn and loved. Endless appointments and
casting calls meant I became familiar very quickly with
the city.
My apartment in the Latin Quarter remains a vivid
memory. Walking up four flights; windows with shut-
ters that we flung open to watch the bustling street life
below. My views overlooking the Pantheon. Evenings
spent dancing at the nightclubs, Les Bains Douches and
Castel. The freedom of youth, combined with the daily
adventure of working as a model for some of the greatest
designers of that era, in a setting that lived up to every-
thing I dreamed it would be. Not a bad start to this love
affair.
As with most love affairs, things get in the way. French
bureaucracy among them! I renewed my temporary
working papers as long as I could. I travelled the world
with my work, with Paris as my base. Finally, it was time
to return to life in Canada. Paris was waiting though
and, when I returned, I was to see a very different side.
Mary L. was 50 years older than me, a close relative
and someone that altered the course of my life in many
ways. She, too, loved Paris and had been going since the
1920s. She had a litany of favourite haunts. Luckily, for
me, the Ritz Paris was one of them.
For more than a decade, we would go every year and
spend weeks at a time at this iconic hotel. Her own his-
tory in the city opened doors and introduced me to
people who are still very much a part of my life. It also
gave me a renewed sense of the history that I had been
surrounded by years earlier, alongside a new way of
looking at Paris. The Old World meshed with the New
in almost every aspect of food, art, culture and fash-
ion. Over that decade, a sense of familiarity set in. It all
made an indelible mark on me. The sights, sounds and
smells are as clear in my mind now as they were then.
Our conversations are also etched in my memory,
often centred around the Paris of Mary’s own youth, in
such a different era than mine. We would dwell on what
mesmerized us both about this city or about the art of
travel, what we had seen that day.
M
ary was an art collector, and she would
take me to the galleries she knew well. I
would watch her negotiate through her
next purchase. Early Sunday mornings,
we would go to see her favourite artists in Montmartre
- one in particular became mine, too. I made my own
purchases that I still look at everyday. The artists of that
time are long gone, and their haunt, Place du Tertre,
has changed, but the memories and the lessons live on.
On our final trip, Mary’s health did not allow her to
leave the hotel on a daily basis. Despite the circum-
stances, it was an incredibly special time. It had been
her choice to return for one last visit. On our last night,
we took a car and driver and went to see all of her
favourite sites and monuments. We drove along
the Seine and the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. It
was then that I understood how a city can become
part of who you are. The beauty alone is one thing,
but the soul of a city is another altogether. Saying
goodbye was important to her. It left a lasting im-
pression on me, nor would it be the last time I
would have such an experience like that in Paris.
Life is meant to be shared, and I had 16 years
sharing it with a marvellous man who encour-
aged my love of Paris. He would join me as often
as he could. Our visits were usually fleeting, but
we would spend days walking, sitting in cafés
and generally being flaneurs. As with Mary, be-
ing in Paris brought out the best in our long con-
versations. Life for us would always include this
city. But life doesn’t always go according to plan.
We knew we had one Christmas left; we chose to
spend it at the Ritz. On arrival, we were upgraded
to the Marcel Proust suite. It was glorious and full
of the history that my husband so enjoyed.
We did things that we always had done in the
past. The Jardin du Luxembourg was our favour-
ite place. Jim held my hand and told me it would
all be okay. That Paris would be waiting for me after he
was gone. He said goodbye to this city in his own way
and, as we both expected, he died after a long and vali-
ant fight with cancer later that year. I still go to sit in the
same seats in the Jardin, and it still feels like he is there,
right beside me. Maybe it is all part of the magic that
is Paris. Buoyed by work, family and friends, it all took
me back time and again. Each time, the reason would
dictate what I did and what I saw. If I could, I would re-
turn to stay at the Ritz Paris, the Hemingway Bar always
my chosen meeting point. Some of my most memorable
evenings have been spent there. A lot of that has to do
with Colin Field, the head barman. He is a true histor-
ian of the Hemingway legacy, and makes everyone wel-
come, has a heart of gold and, over many decades, we
have become friends. Through Colin, I have met and re-
main friends with a collage of characters who have made
my life so much richer.
Amédée, my dearest Parisian friend, is well into his
90s, and he has always looked out for me and made many
experiences so very special. Over extended lunches at his
favourite haunts, I would find myself not only speaking
but thinking in French. Amadée has enriched my life to
such a degree. He has taught me so very much and allowed
me a window into an era that is fast disappearing. I have
Paris to thank for this treasured friend.
With my 50th birthday looming a few years ago, it was
time to give someone else a gift, and pass along a bit of
what Mary and Amédée had done for me. I wantedX