After checking into my hotel, I decided to visit some photography studios mentioned in my guidebook. The first one turned out to be hosting a different exhibition: “We do photography too,” said the young Frenchman at the reception, “but currently there are no photographs for exhibition.” I was now unsure of visiting the next venue on my list; a walk exploring this area seemed a better option. The street was far removed from Champs Elyses, and with my camera and rucksack I invited curious what-is-a-tourist-doing-here glances from the locals on the street. The walk took me to an intersection of a narrow shopping avenue full of people walking briskly with their shopping bags and throwing intermittent glances at glossy windows.
I spent the next two hours on this street, and my impressions here are best conveyed through pictures.
Along the way there were people on bicycles and couples on small scooters, which brought to mind the movie Amelie.
The queue at a nearby ice-cream shop indicated how hot the day was.
Nearby, a group of people were engaged in a ritual that gave insight into why the French are often considered a strange tribe.
After a while I settled down in a street-side cafe. The experience was a bit like sitting near a fashion show ramp, with the Parisians putting up a definitive statement on why they are at the top when it comes to glamour and fashion.
Even those in plain T-shirts did not wish to be side-lined.
Handbags and footwear stood out often.
In the end the overdose of fashion made it a bit tiring. I paid my bill and traced back the route I had followed.
Parmanu 