Second Installment of Paris: Fabric

Epiphany I had in Paris: I need to study fibers, not photography as a minor.

The times when I felt the most like I could live in and enjoy the moment were when I didn't have my camera with me (luckily Marissa is just the opposite and put my camera to good use). I do enjoy taking pictures, and I got some images I'm proud of that I'll be posting soon, but take a look at the "Upon Returning from Paris" post and you'll see what I mean. Mostly Paris made me want to make things with fabric and ribbon and take frequent breaks to write in my notebook or sit with some coffee and read.

I found some wonderful fabric while I was in Paris and I can't wait to start making things.

Le Rouvray was a favorite; it's a quiet shop in the Latin Quarter where the shopkeeper spoke English and quickly caught on to my taste in colors and patterns and could point out fabrics she knew I would love, and she called me "my dear" and gave me good prices. 

The streets just below the hill in Montmartre, southeast of the Sacré Coeur, were full of excellent shops as well, with every kind of fabric in every kind of atmosphere a shop could have. It was a challenge not to buy everything in sight; I mostly bought quarter meters of cotton patchwork fabric because I'll be making lots of brooches to sell at Vernissage (SCAD Lacoste's end-of-quarter student art exhibition). Here are some of my purchases. Aren't they pretty?

 

This looks just like some wallpaper that used to be in my house when I was little.

This fabric cost one Euro and has since been turned into this journal case for an instructional writing assignment.

I got these brooches from an almost-too-good-to-handle shop in Montmartre called Moline Mercerie. They remind me of old costume jewelry I've found in my grandparents' house, but cleaner and nicer looking (and so inexpensive!). With a square of fabric behind it on the collar of a heavy coat, one of these will look lovely.

Buying them was another instance of an interesting pattern in Paris. My French is not very good, so I tried to stay quiet most of the time. These brooches happened to be kept behind the cashier, so I had to give myself away as a foreigner. One of my friends who spent a semester in Europe last year said the easiest way to spot a group of Americans is if they all look like they're different nationalities. My friend Marissa and I both happen to be the same height with short blonde hair, so when it becomes clear we're not French, the next guesses are usually, "Denmark? Holland? Poland?" asked with a smile. But when we say "États-Unis," the tone changes. They want to know which part of the US. Maybe we could redeem ourselves a little if we're from New York. But Marissa's from Florida and I'm from Texas. They don't act hostile or anything (maybe playful joking-hostile), but it's as if we're not endearing like we would have been if we were fellow Europeans.

I didn't mind it as much as I found it interesting. A Greek crêpe stand owner, after finding out I'm from Texas, said, "Teks-ahs! George Boosh!" and pointed to one of the paninis in the window. "Tek-san! Beef!" I got crêpes from him a couple times after that, and he greeted me as "Teks-ahs!" each time. I didn't mind. The crêpes were delicious.

Okay, do you see the price on that one? Five Euro for three metres of nice, thick fabric.
I think the fabric was heavier than the books in my bag on the way back from Paris.