Saturday, April 11, 2009

La Mom’s Semi-Annual Review

La Mom's been blogging for 6 months now – time for a review! You, chères readers, are the boss in this situation: I want to hear what you want from your weekly Paris fix.

Scandalous Housewife thinks I’m doing something right since she nominated La Mom for Best Pop Culture Blog at the 2009 Blogger’s Choice Awards! Merci, Scandy – and you can vote for moi by clicking on the button in the right-hand column.

So, what’s your favorite part about La Mom?

- The expat dish
- Kids in the city
- Style & beauty tips
- Everyday life in Paris

Anything else you’d like to see?

Add a comment or send me a mail at lamom.paris@gmail.com.

La Mom is off for Easter break en famille – check back in 10 days for more of the scoop from Paris!

Kisses on both cheeks,

La Mom

Thursday, April 9, 2009

La Mom’s Celebrity Stalker Tips

Spring is out in Paris – and so are the celebrities.

Famous faces love hanging out in Paris because people more or less leave them alone. They’re not thronged with screaming crowds as they sip a cappuccino at a sidewalk café or go to the local bookstore.

Sometimes the celebrities even come to you. Take my friend’s wife, for example. We capped off their champagne-fueled French honeymoon with a swanky dinner on the Place Vendôme and drinks at the Ritz. Several cocktails later, we realized that Wifey was taking an awfully long time in the bathroom.

Seems that she had taken a wrong turn and decided to take a little snooze on one of the overstuffed couches in the hotel’s main hallway. “And then some guy walked by and called his friends to come over and laugh at me,” she hiccupped as we escorted her to a taxi. “Look – there he is.”

Some Guy turned out to be Clive Owen – oh well, it’s a good-looking famous man pointing and laughing and not Pierre the Clochard, right?

Here’s La Mom’s tips for your own celebrity safari in Paris:

1) Always look good.


I completely failed at Tip Number One when I saw Gad Emaleh, France’s actor du jour, while jogging in the Tuileries. “Chouchou!” I yelled out without thinking – the name of a character in one of his best-known films. “Oui?” he responded. Merde. So I went over and chatted with him in all my Old Navy tracksuit-clad glory. Double merde – but at least he’ll remember the sweaty American chick.

2) Stake out the hotels…

It’s pretty much inevitable that you’ll see a celebrity or two if you have a couple of drinks at any of the city’s big-name hotels. Who cares if the champagne cocktail is $25 if you’re drinking it next to Colin Farrell?

3) …but don’t forget the holes-in-the-wall.

A friend’s husband was delighted to discover that French bombshell Emmanuelle Béart hangs out at the wine bar next to their 5th-arondissement apartment. His wife, a lot less so, since he’s taken to quaffing wine at all hours just to ogle Emmanuelle!

4) Discretion is key.

Try to avoid screaming things like “Holy f***, it’s Elton John!” a là my English friend at the Georges Cinq. Her French husband slowly sunk further into his seat as waiters glared and Sir Elton politely turned his back on the crazy British lady.

Better to play it cool, like when Big Cheese’s brother literally bumped in to J-Lo at Plaza Athénée – she was all over his “Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.”

And on that note, excusez-moi – I’ve got to follow my own advice and buy the latest Stella McCartney workout gear for my next rendez-vous with Gad…

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Pledged

Sometimes La Mom’s life resembles a dysfunctional sorority.

With the high turnover in the expat community (merci, la crise economique!), it seems like I have to get out there and replace friends every few months.

It’s Rush Week all over again, people – women check out each other’s clothes, homes, jewelry, and kids’ schools to see if they will pass muster. The only thing missing is some elaborate initiation ceremony.

Wait, I take that back – to get into Tammy’s group, you have to be able to shotgun a Belgian beer. Tammy – as in Tammy Why Not – never met a tequila shot she didn’t like. Tammy’s parties are light on the canapés, heavy on the booze. Needless to say, her CPA husband, Frat Boy, aids and abets her, laughing when their elegant French neighbors leave incensed notes under their door. Hell, they can’t read them anyway.

Here’s what went down last Wednesday afternoon at Tammy’s stunning duplex apartment overlooking the Seine:

Ohio Mom: Ohmigod, I’m still hung over from your party last weekend, Tammy!

New Jersey Mom:
Tell me about it. Chris actually threw up for the first time in years after we got home.

La Mom: Whoa, I don’t think I’ve done a shooter since my bachelorette party...

Ohio Mom: So what happened after we left?

Tammy: Things got a little bit out of control – Bill broke out a bottle of tequila and we did body shots off each other’s husbands!

La Mom: Wow!

La Mom to self: Quoi?!?

New Jersey Mom: Yeah, we were pretty toasted. Did Frat Boy end up getting fined?

La Mom: Fined for what?

Tammy: Oh, Frat Boy hijacked a Velib’ bicycle and ended up crashing it into a lamppost. He got stopped by some gendarmes but he talked his way out of it.

La Mom: But he doesn’t speak French!

Tammy: Yeah, must have been the tequila talking…

I think I'm withdrawing my bid. Somehow I don’t see Big Cheese getting into reliving college days with a bunch of 35-year-old moms and their baseball-cap, sweatsuit-wearing husbands!
 

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