72 Hours At Paris Fashion Week

Paris Fashion Week

Paris is a city I’ll never get tired of visiting because of its urban charm and alluring culture. Recently, I’ve felt disconnected from fashion so I made up my mind to attend more international shows and special events. One afternoon, while sitting through a mandatory company meeting, I browsed on over to Google Flights and discovered cheap tickets to Paris. Next thing I know, my middle finger pressed the “Purchase Now” button with no regrets. This was my chance to pull up on a few shows, drink my favorite French wine, and get lost in Le Marais. My first two times in Paris, I was spoiled by the French Government’s press trips. This time around, I would be navigating the city of love with my own schedule. Here is what I did, who I met, and what I bought in Paris.

HOTEL CHRONICLES Sometimes, when I travel to places, I don’t really care about my hotel accommodations. But this time, I wanted to stay at a nice hotel even if it was only for a few nights and I wasn’t planning to spend much time in the actual hotel. After many failed attempts of trying to find a hotel more central to the Eiffel Tower on Booking. com, I settled for the Niepce Hotel on the Left Bank. Mind you, I was also traveling with my cousins, who had a completely different agenda during the day as it was their first time in Paris. They wanted to stay at one of Hilton Hotel’s boutique properties, which ended up being one of the only things we agreed to do together. We planned to go to dinner and party together every night. When we arrived at Niepce Paris, it was raining like cats and dogs but once inside, it was an instant luxury and comfortable. From the fruit water to the small elevator, entering this perfectly lit fancy hotel made my feelings sink into the rain. We’re in Paris! Meanwhile, I kept telling myself I didn’t need a bigger suitcase, so I opted to carry a Chanel garment bag and duffle trying to be cute. Huge mistake! It was a struggle getting to and from the airport. Luckily, as soon as I arrived at that place, the bellhop staff came falling to my heels, ready to answer every one of my needs. We prepaid the hotel so they knew it was real. They did everything you’d want a hotel concierge to do, like escort you upstairs with a mini-tour and followed by your bags, brought by another staffer. They also did a good job receiving my fashion event correspondences and brought them directly to my room upon my arrival on the first day. I can’t tell you how special I felt to receive a fashion show invite in the mail addressed with Violet Summer Zine. This is the part I really enjoy about Paris. They still have time to send letters by physical mail.

The hotel hallways were long, narrow with oriental style carpeting that made me feel like I was walking through someone’s family house in The Hamptons. Once inside of one of their Standard Deluxe rooms, it felt like I was in Bloomingdale’s catalog. Every time I uttered something to myself, I felt the word falling inside the velvet crushed gold drapes. The rooms were also soundproof. The bathroom was completely covered in marble, from the floor to the vanity, and the shower, enclosed in glass. The shower in my cousin’s room was completely open! No glass, just a big silver shower head that divided the bathroom in half. There was organic water in the middle fridge. We also received handwritten notes with mini muffins and juice from the hotel’s general manager. I wish I’d gotten paid to stay at this hotel because I would definitely have better photos. We managed to finesse a full breakfast buffet in our reservation fees. The buffet was the bomb and they had everything, the best of American and French cuisine. They had eggs, bacon, sausage, lots of exotic cheeses and prosciuttos, salami meats, and those tiny french cornichons pickles, croissants, and different loaves of bread! We all came down in our PJs, giggling as we recounted stories from the night before. Apparently, one of us is a heavier sleeper and one of us didn’t get to sleep until 7am, and one of us woke up smelling like monoi oil and cigarettes. All of us were texting french numbers. Which one of us hooked up with an American? LOL Tweet me with your answer!

DINNER AT MIDNIGHT The hotel also served dinner, but of course, we wanted to dine experience Paris as much as possible since it was such a short stay. One night, we ended up having dinner at Chez Janou. It’s a Michelin star-rated bistro. Located on the corner of a small block in the Bastille, we strutted into this lowkey spot at five minutes to midnight and asked to be seated. A French African bartender cleaning the bar area literally sucked his teeth at us and made some gestures to the clock. They were closing. He was annoyed but in the true French fashion, the lovely hostess still sat us right away. The restaurant was still crowded, too! The table next to us looked like they were celebrating girls night, passing around a bottle of liquor taking shots until it was done. Surprisingly this was the best meal of the trip. I got the risotto, one of my cousin’s ordered the duck, and my other cousin ordered the steak and potatoes entree. I don’t remember if we ordered dessert but our food arrived fifteen minutes later hot and bursting with flavors. I could have orgasmed there but I saved it for later that night. A good meal paired with wine, followed by champagne and good music is the cure for anyone who hasn’t felt what it means to be alive and well.

FASHION HIGHLIGHTS Between eating until my thighs were rubbing together in my silk skirt, I went to a handful of shows that were located all over Paris. I didn’t really care about mapping out my trip, I just put the directions in my Uber app. Turns out that was a bad idea because I spent so much time in the car! On my first day of shows, I spent thirty minutes in an Uber from the hotel to the official site of Paris Fashion Week Palais de Tokyo. Come to find out, I missed the show by an hour. The doors were closed when I arrived and the ushers were not letting anyone go towards the backstage area. I decided to snap a few photos in front of the Palais de Tokyo entrance while I was there because I knew that all my other appointments were elsewhere around town. I chalked up missing my first show as a fashion errand and made my way to another show located just four blocks away.

The DIDU collection was shown at the Aux Belles Poules, this eccentric, Art deco Parisian salon that used to be a brothel in the early 1900s. To say the least, this young designer from Antwerp’s Royal Academy and VFiles protégée, brought the attitude in her collection entitled “LiGHT MY FIRE.” There were already people waiting to get into the presentation. The crowd spilled onto the small street and that’s where I ended up meeting Arielle, the model who’s on the cover of Issue 8 and her cousin, who lives in Paris full time. At first, I didn’t think they spoke English, I was just happy to connect with Black girls in Paris. We ended up chatting through the whole presentation.

The collection was futuristic, feminine and the models looked strong in their outfits. One model reminded me of a gritty race car driver. Several silhouettes were outlined with neon reflective materials, a design commonality within the collection. The designer also played with different textures, like velvet mixes with stretch printed material, and grey fur paired with knitted pants. I imagined these looks could definitely be purchased as separates. The person who dares to wear these full looks could win best dressed at any party. As models came out of a side door positioning themselves on chairs or posing standing up, I could not help but to notice how everyone’s edges were the laid the fuck down. Everything was sleek and put together, yet the ambiance of the presentation was giving me seriously grunge vibes. They were even passing out Heineken beers next to a makeshift DJ booth.

Later that afternoon, I invited my new fashion friends to accompany me to Herme’s Presentation. The three of us caught the Metro at Strasbourg- Saint-Denis. Now, this was Pre-COVID, when people started talking about the virus like a rumor. But I still thought twice about touching the metal bars in a crowded car. It was rush hour and people were commuting home from work. I suspected this because we were the only ones in the train car dressed like fashion kweens. Arielle’s cousin had on this turquoise outfit complete with a beret and big, long black hair. I wish I had a photo of her look!

When we finally arrived at the Hermes Presentation, it was more intimate and like a private showing of their new footwear collection. We were handed lookbooks at the entrance and free to explore the room that was transformed into a forest. Complete with fake trees, huge rocks, and dimly lit, the music was even dramatically existing in the background. The shoes were propped up on the rocks and tree displays. There was also a pretty big stage with a lowered curtain revealing just enough dancing

Hermes’ feet. Cupid shuffle anyone? I spotted a few OF fashion journalists in the crowd and mingled with industry people over champagne and fresh cucumber juice. This presentation was not set up to stay longer than an hour, so we ate as many canapes as possible until we got tired of standing in our heels. At this point, it was time for me to meet up with my own cousins for dinner and the main event, a night on these French streets.

because I didn’t get to go to the Christian Louboutin Exhibition. As I said, I didn’t map out my trip and realized too late that the museum was located an hour from “downtown” Paris. It was our last day in the city and everyone’s attitude blew up in front of the Eiffel Tower. “Ugh

PARTYING TILL THE CLUB LIGHTS COME ON I don’t think we ended our nights earlier than 5am and we ended all up French kissing on the Paris streets. Not together but with our lucky suitors. Charlie was in charge of finding the best hip hop clubs and they were playing Pop Smoke heavy. Speaking of our entertainment of the night, we decided not to go to the Moulin Rouge, but we did end up doing an impromptu tour of a Parisian gender-neutral Sex Spa a few blocks away from a fashion party that gave us free Moet. All I know is we were in an Uber on the way to L’Arc and suddenly my cousin told the driver to pull over in broken French. We hurry out of the cab and to get in front of the place that was essentially closed, but we wouldn’t take no for an answer. We had to buzz on the alarm for like five minutes until the people inside got tired of hearing the ring. All of a sudden, the wooden door we were banging on, slid open. Once inside, it was super warm and I could smell and hear the sound of hot jacuzzis nearby. There was a seemingly friendly guy who appeared to tell us that the club was in fact closed. But I still don’t know why he would let us in?? We were clearly disappointed, you could read it on our pretty brown faces, beat to the gods. There were no customers in our view but this dude still offered to give us a tour of the place. “No phones,” he told us. “No phones, “ my cousin repeated. She was leading the way in these strappy feather-adorned heels. Suddenly her lace front weave and floor-length fur coat fit in perfectly. I was sure we were in the red light district. I could barely see myself at this point someone could have easily been some foreigner’s sex slave. There was neon lighting the way in the distance. For any freaky spa enthusiasts out there, this would be your naughty escape. The “Spa attendant” led us up this narrow, cement staircase and when we turned the corner some dude literally popped up from a cot located in a nearby alcove. He was resting. I don’t know if he lived here but we all squealed! We were immediately shushed by our guide but like where did that nigga come from!? I couldn’t take this pseudo porno suspense any longer, even though I lowkey could have fallen asleep, sequestered by my jetlag. As this dude showed us different parts of the spa - the couples shower, the couples jacuzzis surrounded with beds and steam rooms, steamy images flickered in my head, I wanted it now. Basically, picture a Korean day spa but for couples only and anything goes down. By the time we made out this place and on to the next club, it was 2am and I was ready to meet up with my guy for a full-on makeout session on the Parisian streets. Who cared if a corona was looming in our futures, the thought of meeting this dude at Lipstick Bar was enough for me to risk it all.

PARKING LOT:

We only ended up eating breakfast in the hotel’s living room once and for what it was worth, it was really delicious. Even though I told the concierge at the front desk to wake me up at 9am for breakfast! I didn’t even get a courtesy call. I ended up waking up at 11AM. I know this was a work trip but I needed my rest or else I’d be in bad shape for the rest of the night of partying.

And damn did I play with fire that night. I must have been on my 5th drink at that point when I ordered a house red wine and waited for this guy. When he arrived in the dark, smokey bar, it was on for some reason I forgot about the Paris city traffic, even if I would have taken the train that was located two blocks away from my hotel, it wouldn’t have made a difference in time. I found myself being around Paris, in fact, a good portion of my day was spent in the cab.

I’m not telling this story by order and day of shows because it was such a vibe being over there, several nights of no sleep, partying until ungodly hours of the night. After all, it’s Paris. We barely made it to board with like maybe an hour to spare and we still made it through customs. I didn’t have time to properly shop Duty-Free. Had I known we would have been on lockdown I would have stocked up on so much stuff, cheese, chocolate, jars of jam, Lucky Strikes, French cognac, champagne, skincare, literally everything to endure the Indoors. Instead, I got two boxes of chocolate and boujee honey mustard! Still a vibe though! Anyway, I made it a point to shop at every chance I got since I knew my schedule would be consumed with fashion shows, networking events, and eating and drinking in the nearest brasseries. Seriously they are like bodegas but the kind that doesn’t have cats.

DC to Paris