Ever since I wrote my short story, “Tourist”, I have had an obsession with Paris. The city symbolizes romance in a way that is the worst kinds of cliche, but that’s what I love about it. The hype is overdone. I have no desire to actually visit the city. Yet, I was once a little girl with big dreams, and I still like to keep in touch with her.
When I think of Paris I think of clear skies, of bright flowers and tiny sidewalks and pastel treats. I don’t care if it’s not real. I don’t care if a bunch of homeless people hang out beneath the Eiffel Tower (as a coworker who has been once told me, a tidbit that I couldn’t help but put into my favourite line of “Tourist”. I still love my Paris calendars with their over-filtered images. I still love my Eiffel Tower snowglobe. I still love my “Take me to Paris” mug. (Don’t actually take me, though. It’ll ruin the magic.)
Now that it’s Christmas again and the decorations are out in full-force in every store, I always find myself gravitating to the romantic pink colour schemes. While my own personal Christmas decor is more of a mid-century traditional style, I do love making pink-infused Christmas displays at work. Pink and white and gold are my go-to for romantically feminine displays. The colours make me think of fresh snowfall over a city. I think of the golden light of streetlights above casting an aura over the white snow-covered streets. Normally I hate winter, but in this context, when the sidewalks are freshly blanketed and the skies are hazed with clouds, all I want to do is don my pink wool coat and buy macarons from the grocery store.
Except I won’t, because they’re like $1.25 a piece and I ain’t paying that much for a treat that likely won’t taste as amazing as it looks.
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