They say that heaven is a kind of library...

Reading Room, Richelieu.

I had an exceptionally good day. I spent most of it in Richelieu doing one of my favorite things: getting intimate with really old manuscripts. Seminars, blah. Libraries which do not have manuscripts... Are still pretty nice. But this is my favorite thing:

  +   = <3 4-EVA

According to what I read at the Getty site on the making of the medieval book, and based on the exceptional silkiness of the parchment in the manuscript I was looking at today, I suspect I spent most of my day petting the skin of a 700 year old stillborn goat.

Probably more than one. It was a pretty big book.

Funny how little details like that didn't make it into any of the seminars on codicology that I've had... It would be like, the first thing I said on the first day of class. "YOU KNOW WHAT THIS BOOK IS MADE OF? Stillborn goatskin and tendons of various critters and calfskin and some boards, probably oak ones!" Then I might show a picture of a stillborn goat in my powerpoint. Just to make sure that ALL the vegans ran away.

But why was I petting it, you might ask. Why was I stroking every page so thoughtfully, frequently with a page in each hand, stroking them at the same time? Is it kinky?

Not so much. At least, not transparently. It was tightly bound and because there was very little variation in parchment color I was using texture and touch to try to figure out the quire gatherings. For those of you who are not medievalists, here's the skinny:

( Hide and seek. )

The hide-facing parchment sides have a roughness that gives me goosebumps and sometimes makes my teeth feel funny. The flesh-facing sides are so silky, like peachskin only even finer.

I also pored over stacks of old and new notecards in the bibliographic files on each manuscript, took notes on catalogue entries, and filled out paperwork. LOTS OF PAPERWORK. The request cards for the manuscripts, the exceptional provision of the microfilmed work request, the photographic reproduction cards, the mis-a-cote cards, the requests for the collateral materials, and so on. Every time I had to write out my full mailing address. I am not kidding when I tell you that I started fantasizing about a graphite-based address stamp. I invented one in my head. While writing my mailing address out about forty times.

I left when the archives closed and met Robynn at the Palais Royale - she had mentioned that she was looking for a signature scent, something uncommon and unconventional that would be unique to her, distinctive. And for that? For that in Paris you go to Serge Lutens. [Ed: Or possibly Etats Libre d'Orange but frankly their stuff doesn't do it for me. It's a little too self-consciously weird.]

The Palais Royale boutique is just gorgeous - all muted tones of lavender and plum with gleams of gold and silver with astrological wainscoting. GIMME. The saleswomen whisper like it's a library, and are beautiful and gracious and friendly (unlike Guerlain, which was... Not so much any of the above). We came in and sampled - Robyn tried Un Lys, Fleur d'Oranger, Sarrasins, and Iris Silver Mist. I didn't intend to buy anything - I smelled nearly all of the strips, but only tried on Arabie, just for fun. Then we went for a leisurely stroll around the Palais Royale courtyard, stopping in at a vintage couture consignment shop to admire and mock the merchandise, and then returned to SL to resniff and decide.

The first time we left, just after sampling, the saleswoman smiled and said "Have a nice walk" or something like that. When we left after *buying* she preceded us to the door and opened it for us, and though she didn't make a big show or production out of it, there was something really Queen for a Day about the post-sale warm fuzzies, heaps of samples, and being squired out.

I ended up with a bottle of Arabie. It's so crazy expensive in the States, but accessible here.  I probably shouldn't have, but I did, and I don't think I'll regret it!

Arabie

This is what luckyscent says about Arabie:

Full of dark drama and positively loaded with exotic spices and fruits, Arabie is as rich in character as it is in ingredients. Intensely moving and spinning out of control, this is a tempest in a bottle, a gorgeous devil swirling with dried figs and dates, spiced with nutmeg and cloves, and sweetened with resins and candied mandarin peel. Cedar and sandalwood bravely attempt to anchor this unruly and unexpected perfume, but its nature is far too wild to be tamed. If you love the idea of a gloriously honeyed, decadent fragrance that features the exotic spices and rich, dried fruits of a kitchen rather than the frou frou flowers of a field, you’re sure to fall in love at first sniff with Arabie.

Arabie notes Cedar, sandalwood, candied mandarin peel, dried figs, dates, cumin, nutmeg, clove, balsamic resins, Tonka bean, Siamese benzoin, myrrh

It's delicious. Some reviewers found it too sweet and sugary, but on my skin it's not sweet, it's fall and winter comfort - the scented woods, the cake spices and warm vanilla, the fresh cut pine sap, the church incense, the dark honey of holiday figs and dates. I don't get all that chaos and drama in the luckyscent review - to my nose, it's a fairytale Christmas - the best parts version.



Then Robynn and I walked through the Louvre courtyard, always stunning at night, down the Seine, across a wooden pedestrian bridge (lovely view), into the Latin Quarter, and had delicious buckwheat crepes (one with mozz, tomato, basil oil, and ham - and another with raclette, asparagus, and ham) and a salad, and split a caramel au beurre sale crepe for dessert. It was delicious and clearly made with the real deal - spoon caramel with sel de Guerande. YUM nomnomnom!


It is even prettier at night!

My eye was caught by a fluffy white hat in one of the souvenir shops at St. Michel. The hats and scarves in those shops are so inexpensive that I can't resist. I am not kidding you: I now have eight hats in Paris. EIGHT. Maybe nine? I bought the white hat, and a white wool jacquard scarf to go with it. The man behind the counter was cute. He asked me if I'd have a drink with him some time. I liked him. He seemed like a real guy, as opposed to those Pepe Le Pew professional street flirts. Drageurs - like fishermen with nets. In Greek they're called harpoon-men, iirc. Malakas. He didn't strike me as the type, and most guys do. I said sure. He said his name is Sam. So maybe I'll have a drink with Sam. If he tries to get me to take him home I will take that as a sign that my critical faculties are on the fritz! And then someone can thump me upside the head.

And that was my day. Tomorrow is housecleaning/laundry/errands day (again?! the weeks are going by so fast now). M: a small warning - I can't seem to get the smell of patchouli that somebody (not me!) who lived here before me put on the  damn towels - if you hate the patchouli, you might tuck one in your bag!) M arrives Sunday!