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Monthly Archives: August 2017
I’ve always said I’d be a really good rich person. When the Powerball lottery was over $700 million this past weekend, I (like everyone else, I’m sure) considered all the things I would spend the winnings on–roughly $400 million after taxes, assuming you took the lump sum, which you absolutely should because the annuity option is a scam. I don’t consider myself an overly greedy person, despite the name (and, well, overall tone) of this blog, and my wishlist isn’t huge. I wouldn’t buy cars, or fancy clothes, or multiple McMansions. I would immediately purchase a reasonably sized apartment in Paris, and roll the rest of the money into savings. It doesn’t even have to be an ~especially luxurious~ apartment in Paris, though I’ve done plenty of drooling over those around here. No, I wouldn’t buy a huge mansion with Eiffel Tower views, that would be wasteful. (Never mind the fact that I can’t fathom how you even keep a place with 20 rooms clean all the time, I can barely manage in my current two bedroom. How do you even know how much toilet paper to buy for 10 bathrooms?) Just something modest but not a hole. It wouldn’t even have to have a hidden bookshelf door into a secret room, the ultimate Rich Person House Accessory and something I used to fantasize about as a kid. Maybe it’s the maturity that comes with old age (I am just five months away from 31, after all), but the idea of suddenly having $400 million dollars didn’t fill my eyes with dollar signs a la Scrooge McDuck. I don’t want or need things to fill a space so obscenely large I could leave multiple rooms empty forever. I’d just like to be able to buy a place to rest my head in my favorite city in the world, and enough money to go back and forth six or seven times a year, IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK?
Alas, I didn’t even play the lottery. And the woman that won took the annuity option and promptly quit her job, two decisions I find both stupid and stereotypical. Ugh. She doesn’t even deserve it. I love my job, and I wouldn’t quit just because overnight I became a multimultimulti-millionaire, but you can bet I’d at least stop packing a lunch for myself in an effort to be financially savvy. Give me ALL the avocado toast!
But of course, I couldn’t resist looking at apartments I would’ve snapped up. And, surprisingly, most of them seemed too big or too lavish. Out of the options I settled on, the most expensive one is just over a million euros. I don’t even know who I am anymore!
Herewith, a few contenders. Half are two bedrooms, so I could have guests stay with me. I told you, I’d be a really thoughtful millionaire.
Option 1: Modern Neutrals in the 6eme
A two bedroom duplex in the heart of Saint-Germain, with a small balcony and interesting architectural details. Price: 780,000€
Option 2: Chic Classical near the Luxembourg Gardens
A two bedroom stunner near Boulevard Raspail, with herringbone parquet and tons of natural light. Price: 877,000€
Option 3: Quirky and Artsy near Rue Saint-Honoré
If my dad were ever to have an apartment in Paris, this is it. Filled with books and sunlight, this one bedroom has a lofted area (can you say ‘writing nook’?) and a terrace with a view of the Eiffel tower across the rooftops and Tuileries. Price: 630,000€
Option 4: Updated Character on the Île Saint-Louis
Another one bedroom, this one on the tiny island behind Notre Dame, but there’s plenty of space in the living room to inflate an air mattress. Those beams! That light! Price: 1,150,000€
August 30, 2017 / Travel /
Two weeks ago, I went to New York for a work trip to see & photograph & write about the Patek Philippe Grand Exhibition of Watches near Grand Central. (I know, I know, my job is still the coolest.) I took the train up and back, which felt luxurious (and was also faster) compared to the Bolt Bus. I had a few hours in the afternoon to myself, and I immediately headed to the Upper East Side to hit what I like to refer to as the “Erin Trifecta”: macarons at Ladurée on Madison Avenue, a pop into Albertine Bookstore at the French Embassy on Fifth Avenue, and a stroll around the European Paintings wing at The Met. I couldn’t have scheduled a more magical day for myself if I tried; it wasn’t even that hot and muggy, which, for mid-July in Manhattan, was pretty thrilling. It was a long day–caught a 9am train up and got home a little after 7pm–but a reminder that life is good, and my job is good, and carrying my camera around again is good.
Also macarons. Macarons are so good.
PS. I didn’t plan on taking the month of July off from writing here (2017 has not been my best blogging year, let’s just say that), and it felt like old times getting this post together. I’m writing offline like never before, for work and for my novel. I’m about a month-and-a-half out from my next Paris trip, so I’m also mentally packing and making lists and counting down the days. My day in New York is a precursor for things to come in Paris: macarons, a museum, bookstores. Pas mal.