la fièvre février

In thirty minutes France will begin one of the most glorious months of the year, February! The rosiest month is nearly half a day old for my grandmother in New Zealand, and in a mere 10ish hours February will arrive in California. But why is it such a great month you may wonder? Ah, let me count the ways.

February is special because it is the only month with an odd little day that resurfaces once every four years. The shortest but sweetest month. Perhaps all the more easier to cherish because it is fleeting! Like love itself.

Getting into the spirit of February today at the Louvre

Of course February is host to Valetine’s Day, La Saint-Valentin in France. Blushy pinks and crimson rouge, mushy affection, chocolates, flowers. What’s not to love? Though 6,000 bitter miles away from my love in Altadena, I still intend to celebrate by buying flowers for the attic. Plus I have different love with me this month– my sister!

Kira under the Louvre’s zodiac ceiling

I had a month long Valentine’s this winter. For one month, Tel and I explored Rouen at night, after I got off work. We sauntered high and low, seeking the best Indian food in town, discovering a Ché Guevara themed place with a mirrored dancefloor in its underground stone cave. We also stumbled upon a strange little place that must have been a brothel of sorts. The barkeeper, a tall slender feminine man with delicate wrists, told us it was required to purchase champagne service to advance to the upper stories of the building. Upstairs was a woman giggling and squealing, and some thumping sounds. While Tel and he had a conversation in fluent French, I oogled the gaudy decorum: deep dark blue and gold color scheme, low velvet couches in the room opposite the bar, smokey mirrored walls. A half-naked woman half-descended the stairs to ask for another bottle of champagne. Never a dull discovery when exploring with Telford! On weekends we lazed around Paris. We dined at both of the two dueling spots rumored for the “Best Pho in Paris”, and agreed to disagree on the winner.

Authentic Sriracha shirt, fake Sriracha sauce.

We even found an epic taco spot (and hot sauces *gasp* in Paris???!?!!), with an inconspicuous cantina in in the back. Just after New Year’s, Tel and I visited the catacombs with his mother. Tel had read about there being over 200 kilometers of tunnels like these beneath Paris. There is a sort of cult following for this subterranean labyrinth of caves. Enthusiasts and explorers of the uncharted tunnels call themselves “cataphiles”, and utilize the forbidden catacombs for dinner parties, cinema screenings, concerts, etc. Read more about it here: Forbidden Paris. Sounds very taboo and alluring.

Also in February is my birthday. I will be 25 on the 24th. Pisces unite! And what a lucky clover, I already received a birthday gift! During Telford’s visit we stumbled upon an antique street market on Rue Cler, just two blocks from my flat. This market was a bottomless trove of dusty Parisian treasures. We scoured the market for hours before retiring to a cafe to defrost our phalanges and belly a hot drink. Tel and I each found winter coats before fleeing the flea market; a vintage U.S. Navy black wool peacoat for Tel, and a buttery camel-colored Yves Saint Laurent cashmere coat for me. Thank you sweet tart! Also scored a 1960s half-penny for Ha’Penny Bridge Pub!

Probably over 100 tents like this with Russian airplane clocks to rare Gainsbourg vinyl, jade fountain pens to Tiffany lamps and terrifying French clown dolls galore!

I wish everyone a beautiful entrance to February. I’ll be basking in the glory of having my sister here for the whole of the month! We’ll have many more adventures to report on. Today we conquered the Louvre. Perhaps next weekend, Versailles? And pastries.

Suggest if I may, you welcome February with my favorite blues crooner Madame Holiday.