Combien, s'il vouz plait?

It's a pity no one ever asks me about shopping in Paris because it is one of my best topics, the one I would chose should I be invited on Mastermind.

However, my knowledge is not unique, as a quick scout around the Internet will prove. There are eleventy million shoppings guides out there on the web, all of which remind you that Paris is one of the world's great shopping destinations, that the yearly sales (soldes) are an institution and that some of the world's best fashion houses are based there.


It's all true, but there are a couple of things I didn't learn from the Internet and will now tell you.

1. Apart from the very high end designer-consignment shopping and a couple of cute random boutiques down in Montmatre, vintage shopping in Paris is mostly a very unsatisfactory experience. I don't care if Sophia Coppola did go one of the most popular stores while she was making Marie Antoinette - most of the well known vintage stores are a disorganised tangled mess of stained polyester, torn shirts and bags that leave thin films of dust on your fingers.

2. The exception to this is the fabulous clothing stall at the Port Vanves flea market in the 14th arrondisement.

These markets are held every Saturday from 7am - 1pm. There's about 350 stalls vying for your euro. Port Vanves is not as large or crowded as its distant, more popular cousin at Clignancourt, nor is there a lovely man selling irrepressibly good crepes like there is at Clignancourt but there is a great variety of genuine antiques and fun vintage finds, and there is Madame, who sells the cheapest and most fabulous second hand clothing in Paris. Madame has a strict price scale - 5 euros for a top, 8 euros for a skirt, jacket or trousers, 10 euros for a coat.

Here we see a blogger expressing the muesli of emotions evoked when one picks up a new (still with tags) Yves Saint Laurent skirt and realises a) it's 8 euros B) the matching jacket - also still with it tags - is just down there on the pile and c) neither are her size.

Yves Saint Laurent was just one of the many labels in Madame's varied stock. I bought a Sonia Rykiel duster cardigan, a Sonia Rykiel jacket, a Paul Smith (black label) wool skirt, an Anne Fontaine shirt, a YSL Rive Gauche silk blouse,  a Lanvin scarf and left am still kicking myself for leaving behind a double breasted knitted blazer by Louis Feraud and a cloudy grey cropped jacket in silk and cashmere by Agnes B. I also wished I bought some of Madame's Hermes ties, which she sells for 5 euros a piece.

All of the garments I bought (and all the garments I went through) are in excellent condition.

The Port Vanves flea market spans two streets and you'll find Madame at the junction of those streets. She is literally at the heart of the markets. Just look for the small crowd of delighted women eagerly sorting through a huge pile of clothes.

And get there early.

Is that the time?

The great clearing out continues. I still haven't got anymore room. 

I do have this fabulous clock though. Sometimes I go into the kitchen just to check it's still there. 

The hard yards

I have been clearing out my wardrobe. It's a long lonely haul. So far I've been stumped by two things:

1. That despite having filled three enormous bag with years' worth of frocks, blouses I never wear and trousers that make me like a barrell, I seem to have less room in my cupboards than when I started.

2. I don't think I need to buy another thing ever again.

The siren waits thee, singing song for song

There is some quiet industry underway in my home at the moment. I am unpacking my luggage, and in order to do that I need to relocate a portion of my current wardrobe.

It's dreary work, so I've avoided it in a myriad of different ways: ironing, going to the gym, taking long walks, sitting outside in the fresh air threatening the cats, reading Caitlin Moran's wonderful book and  writing postcards to my oldest brother as a surprise.

But the thing is, I have to go back to work next week and a degree of sartorial achievement is expected. So I attempted unpacking again today, starting with the jewellery (and some rather fine linen napkins emblazoned with CHICKENS. CHICKENS, I ask you.)

You saw my necklace yesterday; here is my haul from the markets at Port Vanves and Clignancourt.

Behold the chickens!

I'm particularly pleased with the mourning jewellery.

There's three brooches and, as you can see in the top right hand corner of the first picture, a pair of dainty  jet earrings. Mourning jewellery was popular in the 19th century after Queen Victoria went into extended mourning for her beloved Albert. The Victorians had, I think, a very healthy attitude to death - they photographed it, commemorated it, dressed to acknowledge it. Mourning paraphernalia is widely collected but I draw the line at black jewellery. I'm particularly pleased to have found the brooch on the left, which features French jet (black crystal). I'm pretty sure the one on the right is black glass.

I love little gold trinkets. The heart is self explanatory - it's a locket, and so is the large the large clear disc.The panels are actually celluloid, so it is very light. The little ornate scrolled piece is a dress clip.

More clips - on the top row a pair of fine silver dress clips, and on the bottom a pair of shoe clips. The dress clips could also be used to hold a scarf in place. The little shoe clips are a wonderful design - they look like smart buckles when attached to a pair of plain pumps.

An Edwardian watch pin on a watch chain. Watch pins are one of my current obsessions.  I bought these from different vendors and was thrilled how well they matched. Watch pins were very popular until the wrist watch became more common in the thirties. Before then, ladies would pin their watches to the belts and secure it with a decorative clip like this. Gentlemen also wore watch pins - theirs were larger but not nearly as pretty.

A pair of wobbly, lightly clinking coral earrings. I'm not sure how old these are - I'm inclined to think they are from the fifties, when this type of cluster jewellery was common. I've already worn these once and am happy to report that they are what the mags call a statement piece: they need no accompaniment apart from a sober dress and some lip gloss.

Earrings waiting for new hooks. The ones on the left are gold and coral, the other pair are gold plate over brass. I love that the coral pair are slightly different. I'll never know if they are from two different pairs, or if the jeweller was feeling obtuse when he made this pair. I'd say both pairs were originally clip-on but they will be for pierced ears when I restore them. When I've unpacked everything.

But wait! There's more!

Last week I sang the virtues of French hair clips. This week I'd like to extend that to French hair combs of all ages.

This quintet came from a very nice man who was selling a wild assortment of stuff on the periphery of the Port Vanves market. The market was closing and he had to get his goods packed up, but he was very gracious to me when I spotted the hair clips, and gave me all five for ten euros. The three black ones are mourning clips (you can see the second and third are set with chips of jet) and the other two are tortoiseshell. I love me a good clinging hair comb.

So that's the jewellery and the chicken napkins, and one less thing to divert me from the wretched unpacking.

You turn a corner and there it is, shining

The mail came late today. It wasn't particularly interesting. When I came home from my afternoon errands I read it on the front step, figuring I could throw it straight in the recycling bin when I finished.  Little did I realise I was in grave danger.

Jeans - Old Navy Sweethearts,  seized upon in San Francisco last year
Blouse - Rozelle markets, second hand
Birkenstocks - from the internet

Bag made from hundreds of fabric petals  - Antoine et Lili, Paris

Adored necklace - Brocante in the 2nd arrondissement in Paris

Earrings - Christmas present from a woman called Prue who I've never met

Dangerous predator just metres from me -  possibly escaped from a local zoo.

Electric boots, a mohair suit...you know I read it in a magazine

Here's the inspiration for my look in the coming months:

Isn't this blend of Longchamp bag and Dolce&Gabbana dress sublime? I love her hair and attitude too: "I'm here, I've had my breakfast, my hair's behaving,  I got my bag and seventeen pens - let get to work."

This is from the January edition of French Marie Claire. It is from a wonderful fashion spread that used black and white for the colour pictures, and colour for the monochrome outfits. Here's another inspiring look - in colour this time -  from the same spread.

Why don't I own that dress?

I read stacks of French magazines while I  was there but luggage restrictions meant I could only bring a few home. It was a difficult choice. Those left behind were missing a few pages.

Here are the ones now tucked away safely in Chez Baxter.

The inimitable Paris Match, the legendary news weekly which greeted me at the first newsstand I visited with this beautiful cover:

As soon as I saw it I a) bought it and b) gave multiple thanks that I packed a couple of black turtleneck sweaters. The actual cover article featured a great selection of pictures, including this one, which is another inspiring look:

Never before have I been so convinced that I need white jeans to wear with black turtlenecks.

I loved Style Papers too - lots of pictures, lots of style suggestions, lots of things you might like to buy.

Style Papers concentrates on celebrity looks and catwalk trends. It's a bit like Grazia but a touch more glossy.

There is a French version of Grazia too, and it's weekly. If you're curious, would like to brush up on your French comprehension or just look at some great fashion layouts, French Grazia is available as a free app for Android phones. Warning: it updates very regularly and it's addictive.

Also featured in that pic is Modes and Travaux,  which was a special favourite. I came across it by accident in a service station, bought it on spec and fell in love. It's aimed at the woman who works, has kids, keeps a household chugging along and who is possibly a little crafty. Only one of those things really applies to me but still I read it cover to cover. It offers a great variety of practical advice including

...a monthly pattern for a garment inspired by a runway look....

...lots of recipes and

...really fun decorating tips. I am so having rabbit napkins at my next family dinner.

But my absolute utterly favourite magazine is too. Sadly it is a seasonal (four times a year) publication so I cold only get one. (See what I did there?)

I love that cover - the colours, the styling,  the composition. too is not unlike the Australian Shop 'til You Drop or the American magazine Lucky but a little more tongue-in-cheek and a published as a travel size - that is, roughly A6 size. The front half of too is feature articles, the second half is full of style advice and wonderful things to buy, all grouped in in themes that reflect current trends or personal style:

I'm sorting through my luggage slowly. The magazines are all sorted - now I have to stash the beauty products.

Hang on, I'll just check my diary

You can buy a lot of great things in France, including suitcases, which I had cause to do while I was there. However, suitcases don't enchant me so much so I left Mr Baxter in BHV to choose the right one and anyway, his French is better than mine.

I oozed my way over to the stationary shelves nearby where I found this:

There was only one - all its brothers and sisters had been sold. Diary? Notebook? I opened it up and quite a number of my wishes came true at that moment.

A Filofax! But slim and light and eminently portable! With a comprehensive diary! In leather! Pink leather!

With all the saints' days included! In French! And a notebook too! And a jotting pad!

And room for business cards and things you tear out of magazines in the doctor's waiting room! (I don't do that.)

This is one of the most important purchases I have ever made. I haul kilograms of stuff around with me and for the sake of my shoulders have had to pare down the weight of my work bag. It was with great regret that I tucked my faithful red Filofax into my desk drawer and started relying on my phone to store phone numbers and grocery lists. This grieved me because I am a note taker, a pen user, someone who likes to keep written records of things. Such archives are easier to maintain in a notebook than on a phone. For me, anyway.

And this sliver of an agenda is perfect - light and comprehensive. To give you an idea, here it is in context with other purse inhabitants,  including my terrifying intelligent phone that sighs with boredom every time it sees me.

I love my Filofax Flex. They're not available in Australia but you can buy them, and the refils,  on the Filofax website (if I don't clear them out before you get there).

The French appreciate fine stationary. At ever pen counter in every store - even the most jam packed, modern, prosaic supermarket - you will fountain pens alongside the biros. I know this because I am obsessed with pens and own hundreds, many of which I've bought in France. I have been known to befriend people simply to get closer to their pens. I bought quite a few on my recent trip - some cheapies in lovely colours..

 ...and four rather posh ones:

There are no prizes for guessing my favourite. The second and fourth pen in the above photo are Waterman, my favourite pen company in the world. The third from the top is branded Balmain, although I am guessing it is a licensed product rather than a piece of pret-a-porter from the great fashion house. And the Ines pen ... sigh. That little gold leaf you can see is the clip you attach to your jacket. It doesn't look particularly effective but it clamps your pocket with the tenacity of a cobra.

And I bet you didn't know that all the best hair clips are made in France. This is why, when you are next in a French department store or supermarket buying fabulous pens, you should then make your way to the beauty aisle and fill your basket with handfuls of hair delight, like I did.

There is no keener pleasure than needing a dusty pink bobby pin and being able to find the perfect shade, right there on your bathroom counter.

Incidentally, the suitcase is orange, very light, and has four wheels.