Of pastries that is. When I first arrived in Paris I would regard the shop windows of the Patisseries with simultaneous longing and fear. The desserts looks so delicious- so tempting. What if I ate them and gained weight? Finally, I just succumbed and figured "when in Paris"... (I could always hit the gym when I got back to L.A.)

But then a miraculous thing happened. I wasn't gaining weight and I found I was really enjoying myself. I learned there is absolutely nothing wrong with having one gorgeous, decadent well made pastry or dessert a day, if that is what you desire.

The key factor (and this may sound strange) is to enjoy it. Every moment.

Enjoy it slowly. Enjoy it with an espresso. Enjoy it alone or with a friend… or even better yet- with a lover! But make sure that you by all means enjoy it thoroughly and in the present moment. No beating yourself up over it, s'il vous plaît .

Chocolate éclair? Divine, savor that delicious filling. Tarte aux fraises ? Fabulous, how do those seasonal berries taste? Don’t think about calories, or your thighs, or how you’ll have to put in an extra hour at the gym. That sort of thinking is rubbish (and so unsexy). What is the point?

Relish it with extreme pleasure, and eat slowly and mindfully. That way you are less likely to have two or three (and let's face it- we've all been there before).

And finally make sure that you are savoring a high quality dessert- Twinkies, Ho-hos and other inferior products do not count- in fact banish them from your repertoire. If a well made pastry (or chocolate) is not within your reach, you’ll simply have to go without- never settle.

Yes, one of the sweeter lessons I learned while living in Paris is not only are pastries and other sweet delights OK- but they are a necessary part of living a pleasurable existence. Deprive yourself not.

Won’t you stay tuned for #16?

The above picture was taken of me at some café in Paris (there were so many!). I’m not sure why I’m laughing with my head in hand here. I believe my afternoon tea companion kept stopping passers-by to take my picture and it all became a bit ridiculous. Even the waiter is looking the other way…

My book, Lessons from Madame Chic: The Top 20 Things I Learned While Living in Paris will be published by Simon & Schuster and re-released in the fall of 2012.

Last week my husband babysat while I went and treated myself to my first manicure/ pedicure in a long time. Being somewhat sleep deprived and feeling highly unglamorous, I was very much so looking forward to the experience. I did have a wonderful time (mani, pedi and 10 minute shoulder massage… heaven!) but the experience was hampered slightly by the woman in the chair next to me who was speaking loudly on her cell phone during my entire treatment. She shared lurid details about her date the night before, her status on match.com, the woe begotten details of her dwindling bank account and the fact that she hates her boss. Not only did she share these things with her friend on the other end of the phone, but also to me and an entire salon full of women.

That would never happen in France.

Living in Paris I never saw French women speaking loudly on a cell phone in public about their private life. They prefer to maintain an air of mystery. They might have a few confidants to whom they tell their innermost secrets to but I can assure you that this is not done on their cell phone in the nail salon. (In fact, it would be much more French to rapturously enjoy your manicure, pedicure and massage- not counteract the peaceful experience by stressing yourself out over your cell phone).

While people watching at a café in Paris (one of my favorite activities) I would always observe other French women in the café either alone reading or simply staring into space (probably thinking about the lurid details of their date the night before!), or, if they were sitting with a companion, speaking in hushed tones while drinking espresso. I loved imagining about the lives of these people- what they did for a living, what they were passionate about- what made them tick. Their air of mystery was so appealing.

I now avoid over-sharing about myself to people and if I need to vent to a girlfriend over the phone, I do it while walking the dog (Gatsby doesn’t mind, you know).

Along with not over-sharing cultivating a Mona Lisa smile is quite effective too. I haven’t gotten direct feedback on my quest to maintain an air of mystery but I do get a lot of curious smiles from strangers… maybe it’s working after all…

Won't you stay tuned for #17?

The above picture was taken of me (Mon Dieu I am young here!) in 2001 in the Jardin des Tuileries… It could be that the picture is rather grainy and taken almost ten years ago, but I think I look quite mysterious... non?

My book, Lessons from Madame Chic: The Top 20 Things I Learned While Living in Paris will be published by Simon & Schuster and re-released in the fall of 2012.

I learned the hard way when Madame Chic questioned why I would wear a holey pair of faded sweatpants to bed. In France, it is de rigueur to use the best things you have on a daily basis. And why not? As it has been said before, life is short, why save your pretty pajamas (for example) for another night?

Living with Famille Chic I watched them all use the best things they had on a daily basis. We drank our wine out of crystal tumblers. We sat in their beautiful antique Louis XVI (-esque) chairs before each meal for our apéritif . They wore their nicest clothes every day (there was no changing into old Juicy Couture tracksuits once home like I am guilty of- the family was still dressed beautifully in their day clothes when we sat down for dinner). In short, they used the best things they had on a regular basis.

I will actually take it a step further by saying that they only owned the best things they had. For example, Madame Chic would never dream of hanging on to a garment that had passed its prime (like my holey sweatpants). Every article of clothing she owned was of a high quality and in top condition. They didn’t have two sets of wine glasses for dinner- it was crystal or nothing- and as for their home, they didn’t have one room for ‘everyday’ and one room for ‘special visitors’. In their minds- they were special enough.

Observing this way of being planted the seed of fine living into my impressionable young mind and for that I couldn’t be more grateful.

I find the key is to look at everything you own with a critical eye. Hold your possessions to the highest of standards. Doing so can bring a specialness to the mundane and make life so much more interesting…

Won’t you stay tuned for number 18?


I have scanned all of my old photographs from Paris for this series and look forward to sharing them with you. Above, the Eiffel Tower is pictured.

My book, Lessons from Madame Chic: The Top 20 Things I Learned While Living in Paris will be published by Simon & Schuster and re-released in the fall of 2012.

Mindless snacking that is. Trust me- there was no errant box of Cheez-its laying about by Madame Chic’s sofa (actually they didn’t have a sofa… but you get the idea)...

There are many things that are simply not done in France and mindless snacking is one of them. Of course there is nothing wrong with the occasional afternoon nutella crêpe or petite sandwich au jambon- (eaten with pleasure and only when one is truly hungry, of course). But overall, France is not a snacking culture. (And, for the record, I absolutely never saw any of Famille Chic snacking on anything between meals- ever. Isn’t that crazy?)

When I realized there were no snack foods chez Madame Chic, I must admit, I panicked. I was addicted to snacking. I don’t think there was a day in my life up until that point where I didn’t snack on something in between meals. What if I got hungry? What if my blood-sugar became low? These concerns, in the end, were unnecessary. I never found myself to be ‘starving’. I did find myself to be hungry, but that can actually be a wonderful sensation. I was so used to snacking, I never knew what hunger was. And being slightly hungry, I enjoyed my meals that much more.

I have two theories on why the French don’t snack. The first is that they tend to go from one really great meal to the next. Breakfast is good, lunch is good and dinner is definitely good. Why would they want to ruin their appetite by stuffing themselves with a semi-disgusting cracker in the interim?

My other theory is that snacking is not very chic. Have you ever watched someone mindlessly snacking? Sitting in front of the television with a bag of pretzels or a pint of ice cream- absentmindedly eating while not really paying attention? Perhaps crumbs falling down the front of their shirt? Or an errant drop of ice cream ruining their perfectly pressed skirt? No, snacking is the opposite of chic. And in Paris? That simply won’t do.

Won't you stay tuned for #19?

The print pictured above is a vintage Art Deco poster I acquired while in France of Roger La Grenouille Restaurant. I love how chic the diners in the restaurant look- all dressed to the nines and enjoying both the food and each other’s company. So quintessentially French... and you can be sure that none of these people would dream of mindlessly snacking before this fabulous meal...

My book, Lessons from Madame Chic: The Top 20 Things I Learned While Living in Paris will be published by Simon & Schuster and re-released in the fall of 2012.

I hope you are having an enchanting summer. I know I am. Mr. Connoisseur and I are having so much fun with baby…

I cannot believe it is almost the end of August and the fall season of The Daily Connoisseur is almost upon us!

The following are some updates, observations and announcements:

The 5 minute face (otherwise known as le no makeup look) has been my savior. I am getting little to no sleep what with the baby and all and in the morning it boosts my morale tremendously to be able to hide the dark circles and apply a touch of lip gloss and mascara. My friends even tell me I don’t look tired in the least! (Although they could just be saying that to be nice… I do have thoughtful friends).

My house has spiraled out of control into a veritable dumping ground for baby apparatus, unopened mail and other objects I can't be bothered to pick up. You all warned me it would happen and it has. Granted it is not dirty as I am fortunate enough to have a wonderful lady that helps me clean twice a week, but as far as method and order are concerned, it could be described as Hercule Poirot’s worst nightmare. As I write this my desk is so messy, I’m thinking of moving my computer to another room! I’m sure once I get a grip on things my home will return to its usual sense of order, but until then I must learn to juggle both baby and the Sisyphean tasks that I dread (like organizing my office).

Madame Sportif has departed back to Paris, but in the meantime I have befriended a new French couple! (I know… I’m like a moth to a flame). The story with this couple is quite remarkable- I will share it with you soon. And I, of course, have already racked up some observations Comme les Français to share with you (also forthcoming).

I will be starting a new series in September called The Top 10 Things I Learned While Living in Paris. Although I am having a hard time narrowing it down to just 10 things. Right now it’s roughly 17. It might stay that way too- even though “The Top 17 Things I Learned While Living in Paris” doesn’t sound as nice as "The Top 10"… we shall see.

I am finding little pockets of time here and there to write and I am finally able to start the last rewrite of my mystery novel… It is a fun, old school mystery about a modern girl living in Santa Monica that solves a case involving murder, some missing rubies and a little international intrigue. Think Agatha Christie- but Daily Connoisseur style. If you know of any literary agent or publisher in need of such a revolutionary novel, do let me know.

Lastly, Baby Connoisseur is a splendid little bundle of joy. She is healthy and vibrant and getting bigger every day. Thank you again for all of your lovely comments and messages.

And, as always, if you have any requests for future blog posts, leave me a comment, or email me and I will do my best to honor your request!

Bisous,

Jennifer xx

Pictured above is a beautiful bouquet of flowers given to me by Mr. Connoisseur.

Thank you so much to everyone for all of your lovely messages about the baby. We are all thriving and doing very well. Our baby girl is changing so much every day I am savoring every moment and am filled with gratitude.

Many of you have asked what we named her. I have decided to not announce her name publicly as baby connoisseur knows only too well the importance of maintaining an air of mystery. I will say that we chose a very traditional, whimsical and good old fashioned English name for her… and I must say it suits her very well!

On to other news…

This week I found a large envelope on my doorstep. It was from Madame Sportif and inside was a copy of French Elle à Table (pictured above)- a magazine she had told me about during our many cooking sessions together. It is a cooking magazine filled with beautiful recipes for everything from strawberry tarts to carbonaras. Included with the magazine was a note saying she had asked one of her friends from Paris to bring over the magazine especially for me. Then she told me news of her travel plans and informed me that she and her family will be sadly going back to France next week.

My heart sank at this news. I knew the Sportifs were only here for a year but during that time I forged a great friendship with Madame Sportif. She is truly a wonderful and thoughtful lady. How kind and considerate that she had one of her friends bring me that magazine all the way from Paris! I wrote her back to say that I will miss her greatly and if she ever finds herself in California again, to be sure and look me up.

The sadness I felt when I read Madame Sportif’s note was similar to the feeling I had on my last day in Paris. I’ll never forget it. Famille Chic was on holiday in their country estate in Brittany and I was alone in their 16th arrondissement apartment. My heart was filled with such conflicting emotions. On one hand I was excited to travel back home to California to see my family and friends again and start to live my new life as a daily connoisseur of the French philosophy. On the other hand I knew that I would never have this experience again- living in Paris with a French family- learning their secrets, exploring the city- exalting in life as a student without any major responsibilities. The cafés, the art, the food, the dinner parties, the new friends, the romance of it all…

On my last day in Paris I did not walk by the Seine or go see Notre Dame for the last time- I did not take a solitary stroll down the Champs-Élysées, instead I stayed inside the apartment of Famille Chic. That rich apartment that I had so grown to love. I made myself a small lunch, I played the record player, I drank a glass (or two) of port and I packed my bags. I left a note in the hallway for Famille Chic, thanking them for an experience most magnifique.

My last day in Paris was bittersweet but I also knew it was a turning point in my life and that I (much like the famed character Sabrina) would return to California a completely different girl.

And so I did…

Mr. Connoisseur and I are proud to announce the arrival of our baby girl. She decided to make her debut two and a half weeks early and is thriving and doing great. Thank you so much for all of your lovely messages and your support as we enjoy this amazing time in our life.

Jennifer xxx

One morning in Paris as I ventured to the salle de bain in my pajamas, Madame Chic stopped me. The look on her face was one of concern.

“Jennifer,” she said (in French, bien sûr), “Did I do that in the laundry?”

She was referring to the hole in the knee of my sweat pants- my favorite white sweat pants that I wore religiously.

“Oh no!” I exclaimed, eager to ease her mind. “These have had a hole in the knee for ages!”

The look of concern on Madame Chic’s face grew to one of confusion. “Why would you keep them if they have a hole in the knee?” she asked.

I remember looking at her, in her chic kimono style dressing gown- her hair pulled gently back from her face. “That is a very good question,” I said with embarrassment. “I don’t know.”

And the truth was, I didn’t know. Why did I haul my ratty old holey sweatpants all the way from California to Paris (Paris!) to wear as sleepwear? Yes, they were comfortable, but they weren’t that comfortable. I was instantly horrified/ enlightened.

That afternoon I headed straight to Etam and bought some suitable pajamas. (I’ll never forget them. I bought two pairs- a cream colored structured button down pajama set and a pretty orange lace chemise) The white holey sweatpants were thrown in the bin.

From that moment on, I developed a taste for lovely sleepwear...

My favorite brands are Calvin Klein Intimates (they put out beautiful pieces each season) and Intimissimi (I purchase something from their Kings Road shop whenever I am in London).

I used a recent gift certificate to Bloomingdales on this beautiful set of sleepwear by Calvin Klein (pictured above and below). I really enjoy sets because you can mix and match the options. I purchased a chemise, camisole, pant and dressing gown- all black with a plum lace trim. Perfectly understated and the sort of item that I wouldn’t mind anyone seeing me in…



Madame Chic would be so proud…