With all the talk of interviews I’m in danger of believing that I’m someone interesting. Just in case that turns out to be true, I’ve spent the last few days practicing how to walk while sticking a bandy leg out of a floor length gown just like Madame Jolie at the Oscars. She’s clever that one. I never would have come up with that on my own and it might be the perfect pose for a book launch at a bar in St. John’s. I tried it out on Neil but he thought I was having some sort of seizure, so I might need to find another strategy.
Anyway, some people seem to think that my life over here is one episode of fabulous after another, so I thought I’d do a two-part exposé: a day in the life of a French diva. Let’s take yesterday. I got up at the crack of noon, lolled about in my pajamas, trolled the net, ordered a pair of shoes online that I don’t need (70% off, would’ve been irresponsible not to) and then, only because I was bored out of my skull, I tagged along with Rusty to his favourite place, the grocery store.
Apparently twirling a plucked chicken by its feet in the air is not appropriate behaviour for a budding celebrity like me or for a wife who wishes to stay married, so I had to take quick (aka blurry) photos so as not to further annoy the person who takes food shopping very seriously.
As you can see, there are some things about a French grocery store are indeed fitting for someone as fabulous as myself…
This is just the aisle reserved for Burgundy reds (I didn’t have time to snap the whole wine section which goes on for miles). So after I selected the finest vintage available for €3.49, I moved on to the bread section…
Of course I need very fancy mustard…
and beautiful bottles of limonade…
No ordinary soap will do for the likes of me. I need a gourmet soap bar complete with chocolate bath salts…
Then finally I considered one of these beauties…
I’m not exactly sure what it is but any meat wrapped in red fishnet seems fitting for someone of my stature (fame and fabulousness, not height). But really, you know I’m no Angelina. She’d never show the spanx catsuit, underwire and duct tape that hold that Oscar gown together but I would. Like Viola Davis who finally, finally revealed her beautiful natural hair, this diva is willing to reveal the real deal. Next time I’ll show you what shopping in a small French town really looks like.
Chocolate bath salts????? Um, yes, please.
You know I’d have to sample them. I don’t care what the label says about consuming them.
This is the most beautiful grocery store I’ve ever seen.
We have Maille mustard here—I don’t usually like the stuff, but I love the one that’s so rough it’s almost just whole mustard seeds in vinegar.
(can’t believe I fixed on the mustard instead of the bread or chocolate . .. must be sickening for something)
A whole isle just for Burgundy wine? Now that’s my kind of grocery store! Grocery shopping would take on a whole new meaning for me when shopping at a store like this one.
Funny, I’m just about to take a jaunt up the road to refurbish my empty fridge and I no longer wish to see those piddling Italian products after such a lush food parade. C’est formidable!
Hand over the boule and no one gets hurt.
You had me at the wine picture, but then you went on…all those French soaps, my flaking skin would be so happy. If you were going for us thinking you lived a normal life, consider that boat missed.
Wait for it, next time you’ll see the normal side of the grocery store!
Notice how CLEAN or Neat everything is… I love this… NO wonder you love it as well as for the FOOD, WINE, and ALL the other Goodies!
Oh, chere madame. I think I just —- did something I shouldn’t write in your comments because you don’t want to draw that kind of a crowd.
I was gazing at the beauty of the aisles and it occurred to me that I spent entirely too many mealtimes in the Flunch in Dijon. At 21, I was too stupid to go to the grocery store instead.
I’m still waiting for the picture of you twirling the plucked chicken by its feet :)
The wine and bread = I’m in love!