I went to Paris and I didn't buy shoes

Who even am I?

The joy. The absolute joy of finally making it back to Paris after five years, the gap forced upon me by Covid and dreary life getting in the way of life stuff.

Not wishing to be annoying, but I think it’s the longest gap of my adult life.

Simply because an enormous bonus of working on fashion magazines and then as a newspaper fashion reporter was getting to go to Paris twice a year.

As well as the work trips, there were also the wonderful years when Eurostar stopped at Ashford, which is a 45 minute direct train ride from Hastings,

I could go from my front door in Hastings to the door of Café Flore in under three hours, with no queueing – and if you booked in advance for under £100.

Covid gave them an excuse to axe those Ashford stops with no plans so far to reinstate them, which is maddening, but I remain optimistic, because with that set up, if there was a good exhibition on I would go to Paris for the day.

Coming back with a fresh baguette for dinner - and a new pair of shoes.

It simply wasn’t possible to go to Paris and not buy shoes. They are just so much better there, in every way. The styles, the range, the quality and even the price. It was rude not to.

But this weekend I didn’t buy shoes, or clothes. What’s happening? Who am I?

I’m just someone trying to do my tiny little bit not to destroy the planet by buying more stuff than I actually need.

So, over four days in Paris I bought four things.

First was a tote bag from the Fondation Louis Vuitton (the reason I went was to see the amazing Rothko exhibition there) which I needed to carry the catalogue and plethora of postcards I’d bought.

Plus it was really good quality, perfect for summer in white and tan canvas, it says ‘Louis Vuitton’ on it and cost 24 Euros. And I wanted it. Possibly a weak moment, but I will use it a lot.

The next purchase was a batch of amazing French darning wools, which I’ve been perving obsessively online but didn’t want to buy without handling.

They are just as great as I hoped, because each strand can be divided into four separate threads, depending on the weight of knit you are darning. I’ve already used them to darn a special cashmere cardigan, with two threads.

So much better than the thick stuff which is all you can buy in UK haberdashers. It’s made some of my best cashmere treasures look like they have a plague of boils.

And you can use a needle threader with these French ones, so that’s life changing.

The heavenly haberdashery, La Mercerie Parisienne, 6 ru des Francs Bourgeois (through a passage)

The third thing was two pairs of socks from Japanese brand Tabio, right opposite my hotel in Le Marais. Cotton with nice loose tops that don’t tourniquet your ankles. Which I actually need, because my daughter has stolen and lost all my favourite summer socks.

Not very exciting, but when you are trying to buy only five new pieces of clothes/accessories a year, even a pair of socks is a thrill (and not one of the five, hurrah.)

My final purchase represents possibly the greatest feat of self-discipline of my entire life. I went to the ur-lifestyle store Merci and bought just one thing. And that was a present for my daughter.

I couldn’t decide if Central Casting had planted this little girl in Merci, or she has precociously watched Emily in Paris and aspires to the Frenchie-foo outfits.

Oh my, that shop. I’ve heard about it for years, but some reason had never got there. It did not disappoint. Almost the first thing I saw when I walked in – after taking in the lofty warehouse space, divided into loose themed areas, the model for every lifestyle shop we all love – was my ultimate jeans.

Classic dark indigo Levi 501s. I stroked them and forced myself to move on. I have a pair already. They’re getting a bit washed out looking and I want a crisp new pair, but I didn’t allow myself to succumb.

Neither did I allow myself to be weakened by the so-alluring banks of branded Merci gear. Those clever low-entry level products that you buy to give yourself the feeling that your life will be a little bit like the shop feels if it has that object in it. With the name and that.

Oh, the temptation…

But I reminded myself that when you get the branded thing home, it’s just another tote bag. Like the one I was sucked in by at the Fondation Louis Vuitton.

Just a casually perfect summer knit. I actually wish I’d bought this.

I wanted every single thing in the shop, which in some ways made it easier to buy nothing, but then nestling among the astonishingly good offer of summer wafting gowns, I saw this dress.

The Dress. Nestling in the dream rail of wafting wear.

It’s silk. There are raw edges. Look at the colours! I even knew it would suit me, with the so-clever set up of vertical stripes at the top, segueing into horizontal in the wafty area.

Reader, I didn’t buy it. I didn’t even try it on. I have more summer dresses than I need for the short British season and the odd lounge by a pool in Greece. But I will never forget that dress. It was perfect.

Other things that made me stop and fight with my conscience was this crossbody phone strap (the multi-bead one) and this crossbody bag, made out of lovely old Japanese fabric.

I resisted the crossbody phone strap because that’s the style of bag I always carry and between the two it would get very messy. I would be in a constant crossbody kerfuffle. I resisted the bag because the strap wasn’t quite long enough - even though the change of fabric on it so delighted me.

The old me wouldn’t have stopped to think those details through. I would just have swooped on the shiny things and bought them.

So, while it was hard to leave that amazing shop with nothing except a little trinket for my daughter, once I recovered from the shock that I’d actually been able to resist temptation, it felt good.

Although I do have to admit it may have helped a little that I found the shoe offer rather uninspiring…

Next time I’m in Paris, I might allow myself to buy these. I don’t own any coffee cups and if I ever get any I want these. These exact ones.