Posts Tagged 'V-day'

L’Amour (or less…)

Montmartre, Paris (I love you wall)

One of my favorite things in the world is to play matchmaker.

I’m not responsible for any romantic connections, mind you. But I have fixed up a fair number of friends. A flair for platonic pairings, if you will.

Ah, you’re interested in X? So is my friend Y. Let me introduce you two!

I love putting people together who I think might click.

Not long ago, I introduced my screenwriter/actress friend Jennifer to Alexis, a director/writer, recently moved to Paris from LA. Though I had only met Alexis once before, I knew the alchemy was right for a rendezvous. I arranged that we all go to a vernissage together. (And then eat cheeseburgers afterward. Le classe!)

Long story short, I knew Jennifer and Alexis might hit it off, but I had no idea how much. The past month they (and now a whole cast and crew!) have been hard at work on a new project.

L’Amour (or less…) is a web series that explores what happens when people from two different cultures try to make a romantic connection. Each episode features re-enactments of actual dates between expatriates and the French. Some of the true stories are charming, some are distinctly not, and some are just bizarre.

Let their video here tell you more:

Fittingly, they launched L’Amour (or less…) live in Paris on Valentine’s Day. If you want to see this web series get made, head over to their kickstarter page. They’ve written 12 episodes already, but need some funds to bring the stories to the screen. Why not show them some love?

L’Amour (or less…) kickstarter page.
And the website.

Seeing people go for it; yes this is another one of my favorite things. The idea to collaborate on L’Amour (or less…) sprouted just at the start of January; Jennifer and Alexis have been running full steam ahead ever since. In only a little over a month they’ve assembled a host of talented folks, shot all over the City of Light, and written episodes which I can’t wait to actually see. Kind of dizzying all the activity!

These two remind me: you can decide to just do it. Oh, and I’m reminded, too, of the delight of serendipity. (My favorite word). Of bringing people together. The beauty of momentum. The power of putting your all into a dream.

Now if that’s not a love story, I don’t know what is.

Path of Beauty (Video)

Happy V-day, folks.

Let’s celebrate love in ALL its forms today. And everyday!

We can love each other, our lover, our friends, our family. How about loving ourselves, too?

Beautiful moments, alone or shared.

Big bisous, friends. I consider you all my Valentines.

My New Love

There she is.

My new love.

Appropriately under a collage of Doisneau photos and next to some flowers.

My new piano!

We haven’t been together long, but it’s the real deal.

Yes! I bought a digital piano and it makes me so happy!

I had never heard of this proverb until reading this essay, but I think it’s true: “Play the piano daily and stay sane.”

You might remember back in the new year I made 2012’s theme all about play. I assembled a micro piano to tide me over, but now I have a real one. It has already transformed my daily routine. It has already started beating back the winter blues.

It’s been 15 years since I even touched a piano, so I’m reteaching myself all of the basics. But it’s remarkable what is still inside, too.

Continue reading ‘My New Love’

The Day Before V-Day…

…or as I like to call it, Monday.

Happy! (On Rue Montorgueil)

A friend asked me take some snapshots today as I went about my day. To link them thematically, if I wished, but just to notice what was around me.

So, I take you with me, too.

Continue reading ‘The Day Before V-Day…’

Beautiful Flamenco Dancer, I Fall at your Feet

When I was a baby, I had a nanny named Josephine who came from the Dominican Republic. My family lived in New York then – the New York of the 70s that I would love to have known.

Josephine spoke to me in Spanish, long before I could understand or form words. There’s no doubt, however, that this early exposure stayed with me.

When I started studying Spanish formally in junior high school, the language came easily, my accent hardly noticeable; vocabulary stuck like scotch tape.

Cara K., my best friend, took French classes and I teased her endlessly for it.

“What good will French ever do you?” I ridiculed.

In fact, I charged anyone who chose not to learn Spanish as elitist. By that point we lived in North Carolina where the Latino population was exploding. Spanish was not only useful, but to me, completely beautiful.

Boy, doesn’t karma come back to get you? Spanish had felt wrapped up in my destiny – yet here I am living in French. My mocking laughter at the dreamy girls and waifish boys who took French lessons is now directed firmly at me.

Whereas the Spanish ‘r’s rolled off my tongue effortlessly, the French ‘r’ makes me sound (and feel) as if I’m gagging. Whereas I actually considered conjugating Spanish verbs fun (yes, I’ve told you before I’m a geek), you’ll never, ever catch me conjugating French verbs correctly.

And most importantly, I believed as long as I kept speaking and learning Spanish, fluency would come some day; I felt no barrier, no wall. Fluency in French, however, is not even a fantasy I entertain.

But I look on the bright side: one of Paris’ most redeeming qualities is how simple it is to leave it.

I flew to Seville last Wednesday in just two hours. Expecting sun and warmth (compared to Paris, at least), we instead endured freezing temperatures and disheartening rain nearly the entire time. As it’s a pays chaud (‘hot country’ as the French like to say), they’re not really equipped for cold spells. They’re usually trying to escape the heat, not generate it.

But I won’t complain because I did experience a moment of pure joy: I fell in love with a flamenco dancer.

A swirl of heat on a cold winter night

Yes, a striking woman with long blonde hair and a bold red-dress commanded the stage and suddenly the wind, the rain, the cold didn’t matter. Her heels forced the earth into submission. Her hands moved through the air like poetry. All of the elements seemed contained within her. It was hard not to think “sex” when a male dancer joined her on stage (or is that just me?)

Call it what you want (I’m not sure I’ve ever liked the phrase “Latin temperament”), but this was also something I always felt when I spoke Spanish – freedom, abandon. If the French are stereotypically thought of as good lovers, it’s a seduction a little to studied for me.

The bewitching flamenco dancer electrified every one of us in that damp, crowded room not with subtlety, but with fire, passion, lust. She showed us every emotion that was inside her.

The cafes where we lounged in Seville were chilly from lack of heaters, but buzzing with life, the din formed from animated conversations, stories recounted over tapas and wine. My loud laugh, which I often feel obliged to tuck away in France, would be welcome here. My tears, rage, any and everything – those would be just fine, too.

I won’t romanticize (too late!) because living in the “City of Love” I know how far from reality our imagined ideals can be (and because we were shivering and miserable most of the time).

But I will remember the language that feels close to my heart, the precious things learned as unconsciously as breathing. I’ll bring back the heat of my treasured flamenco dancer and insist on living passionately in Paris, no matter how reserved I sometimes take it to be.

Happy belated V-day, y’all.

paris (im)perfect?

Sion Dayson is paris (im)perfect. Writer, dreamer, I moved to France on – no exaggerating – a romantic whim. As you can imagine, a lot can go wrong (and very right!) with such a (non)plan. These are the (im)perfect stories that result.

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