The all too brief time I lived in Paris was as an underpaid Stagiaire. Though, if I'm completely honest I was paid not too badly. Either way, it was just four months during the first year of my studies in France and as a full-time student so I wasn't exactly flush with cash to begin with. Despite having only a meager portion of my income earmarked as "disposable" this was a relatively prosperous period for me. More so than my second year when juggling English teaching and baby-sitting alongside my studies, I was over-worked and probably the skinniest I've ever been as an adult. Fantine from Les Mis comes to mind; minus the shorn locks, prostitution, and missing teeth. Oddly enough in pictures from this period my hair was fantastically glossy; can't say enough good things about the French diet, even if the portions were small they clearly must have been nutritiously packed to the gills. But back to the heady days of a perfect Parisian summer. Les Soldes (Official Dates des soldes 2015) were in full swing, I made the mistake of showing a particularly good haul from the Benetton at Opéra to my landlord who promptly asked for my next month's rent upfront ( as if we'd already agreed on it - we hadn't) clearly she wanted to get in on the soldes action. That was an unexpected financial blow but somehow I was able to withstand it. However I was then confronted by another vice, posh restaurants and bars; normally this grossly inappropriate interest is held in check by rational friends who refuse to spend 20 euros on a cocktail but in Paris this summer of course those friends weren't around. Dangerous as it is to place myself among people equally as enthusiastic about these things, this is how I found myself at Hôtel Costes just off the oh so chic Place Vendôme. We were faking it, I'd say we were quite convincing but in all honestly probably not. We were the epitome of tourists-trying-not-to-look-like-tourists.
My memories of the bar where we splurged what little we had left over from stage wages on expensive cocktails are almost as dim as the room. I recall heavy fabrics; gold-hued walls and deep red Persian style rugs covering a dark brown wooden floor. It was a relatively quiet night when we were there which may have added to our feeling comfortable enough to order two rounds. The staff were not as intimidating as I'd expected; dare I say they were nice.
In this instance faking it was mildly successful and the only hurt was in the realization that two cocktails cost more than a few weeks' food shop at Dia.
