A year+ into my Parisian adventure, it’s easy to start feeling like I know this city. So it always adds a skip to my step when I stumble upon something—be it a patisserie, boutique, tea salon, gallery, garden or just a special view—that I’ve never seen before.
So it was last week as I was strolling up the lower part of rue du Temple. Amidst the uninspiring cafes and cheap-y stores, one vitrine beckoned. I stopped and admired the urban-preppy wares in the window. I peered in. I saw wood slat floors, industrial light fixtures, primary colors and plaids and stripes, hanging from bare-bones racks. I went in, discovered a company called Bellerose, and promptly fell in love.
The space reminds me of Scandinavia meets New York, circa 1983. (But, a-ha! They’re actually Belgian, those sly fashion-y ones!)
The newspaper catalog reminds me of W before it became the oversized heavyweight that it is (like many other girls, I wanted to be a fashion designer when I was younger and my dad subscribed me to W, giving me and my friends an endless supply of really cool fashion spreads and ads to hang on our walls).
And the clothes remind me of rich preppy kids at New England boarding schools.
If I weren’t’ currently purging my closet in an effort to live more simply, I would scoop up their chinos and sundresses and windbreakers and super-soft t-shirts. Since I’m not in the market, I’ll have to just enjoy the dreaming they inspire.