How Paris makes you late to your Eiffel Tower rendezvous

Late in Paris
Photography by White Cabana

“Will you meet me at La Tour Eiffel? Tonight?” I heard the sounds of a café in the background over the phone. Glasses clinking, French girls laughing- discussing their plans for ce soir, & the love notes of Parisian street music suggested he was already in the heart of the city.

And of course I was late….

The words rushed out, but I bit them back. Hold your cool. Don’t freak out.

My hands quivered as I laced up my boots, the phone nestled between my shoulder and flushing cheeks. Each robin’s egg blue bow needed to be tied perfectly over the leather to show off the shoe’s curved silhouette, but in my excitement I fumbled and my shoe slid off all together. My phone dropped too.

“Damnit!” He laughed, he understood. “I meant,” I said firmly, gathering my composure, “Sure, why not?” The French “Je ne sais quoi,” I repeated to myself silently. Don’t overdo it.

I wonder if he heard right through me. I listened to him take a drag from a cigarette, taking his time. “Will you like to meet me?” He repeated in that beautiful mixture of French and English. “S’il te plaît?”

Take three seconds to answer. I cursed myself for being a fool, and I cursed my beautiful shoe.

It’s difficult to convey that you’re absently watching the passing crowds through your boudoir window to your caramel-eyed, sweet-breathed French garçon when you’re actually flying about your room, trying to catch your boots. But I tried. “Sure, 6 pm? I can probably do that. Can we make it 6:15?” I pressed for effect.

But I should have asked for more time.

Paris has a way of keeping you in her streets, even when every single one of your dreams have told you the boy you’ve been waiting for is standing in front of a glittering tower.

You lose track of the hour, rummaging through vintage shops filled with the memories of les filles de Paris, and end up talking to the shop-owner, who told you the brown cloche with the tiny green feather you just bought was once owned by a woman from Milan: she moved here to escape a mad lover. You almost believe her. You hurry to the side of one of the glamorous French girls you met (she’s not out of your way, she promises, you won’t be late) and has stories you need to hear. She might insist her heart was recently broken, and she’s got wine. She’s charming and desperately needs une amie. You can imagine the red curve of her lips as she smiles, convincing you to stop by, just for a bit. But this was Paris, and I soon found out hearts were broken all the time, and they fell in love all the time.

Unfortunately I didn’t find out how deeply and suddenly they could fall for someone until hours later, at 7:15.


We were getting to know each other. Catch up with the story.


Pleats and KeatsBLOGLOVIN’

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22 thoughts on “How Paris makes you late to your Eiffel Tower rendezvous”

    1. Thank you so much! It truly means a lot to me when I receive comments like this- they warm the soul! I’ve never really “come out” with my writing before, so your words mean so much to me. As for who I met, that’s to be continued…;) much love. xo.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. How lucky you are! You are young, intelligent, creative and living in Paris! Keep moving forward…!

    “An age-old city is like a pond. With its colours and reflections. Its chills and murk. Its ferment, its sorcery, its hidden life. A city is like a woman, with a woman’s desires and dislikes. Her abandon and restraint. Her reserve – above all, her reserve. To get to the heart of a city, to learn its most subtle secrets, takes infinite tenderness, and patience sometimes to the point of despair. It calls for an artlessly delicate touch, a more or less unconditional love. Over centuries.

    Time works for those who place themselves beyond time.

    You’re no true Parisian, you do not know your city, if you haven’t experienced its ghosts. To become imbued with shades of grey, to blend into the drab obscurity of blind spots, to join the clammy crowd that emerges, or seeps, at certain times of day from the metros, railway stations, cinemas or churches, to feel a silent and distant brotherhood with the lonely wanderer, the dreamer in his shy solitude, the crank, the beggar, even the drunk – all this entails a long and difficult apprenticeship, a knowledge of people and places that only years of patient observation can confer.”
    ~ Jacques Yonnet

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  2. This is so lovely! Though the setting may seem kind of ‘mainstream’ for a love story like this at first glance, it doesn’t hide the fact that your writing style is beautiful. I’m a bit confused, though: this is part of longer story right? I just read the other 2 “Catch up with the story”, but that’s it for now, right?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It is for the moment! Thank you! Yes, falling in love in Paris was one of the stranger things that happened to me, and yet it felt like such a movie! But there were some pretty whacky things that happened. Those posts, Homeless in Paris, Metro Line 12, and the Eiffel Tower are the first three installments of a larger story…the organization is so difficult though- out of order vignettes that need to tie together- so I’m working on it! Thanks for the feedback! ❤ much love.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I love how you build suspense…. both in your writing and in your comments. I spent several days at Taize around 2004. Our plane landed in Paris. I never got a chance to see any of Paris but the high speed train was amazing. I didn’t know it was possible for a train to go so fast. So different than those in the U.S.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I have no doubt about that. Maybe someday I will do that. I’ve gone to India almost every year for the last 26 years. I think that the Taize trip was the only side journey I’ve done!

        Liked by 1 person

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