Home is a Feeling

 
 
 

Home is a feeling. By the time I arrived Paris last night, it was nearly 8. I’d left my home in Venice at 12.30 so for a short 1 1/2 hour flight, it was a long day. It was beautiful day because things kept going my way. The discovery I didn’t have to pay for luggage. The realization that for some reason I hadn’t been using my lounge priority pass and could wait the 2 hours before my flight in the lounge. How did I forget to use this in the past year? I think I am always arriving the airport so late I never had time to use it - then simply forgot it was option at home in venice and not just layovers in lounges around the world.

From the airplane I stepped into a taxi and traffic jam but worked from the car, and I went straight on a phone call with a client within 30 minutes of arriving my Parisian home. @danipelletier looked at me when I arrived and said “You need a drink. What do you want?” But she knew what I wanted. Danielle’s margarita. Stirred not shaken. There will be plenty of champagne this week. But tonight a margarita, served with the most amazing sliced radishes. Then Danielle had bought an air fryer since I last visited, and she cooked the most delicious roast served with cauliflower and french cheese. I was in heaven. I felt safe. Cherished. Protected. Loved. As Danielle stirred my margarita I said “Gosh it’s good to be home.” I told her the story of my friend Amy T (as opposed to Amy B - clearly Amy was a popular name in our generation). Amy is American, and her husband is Italian. He doesn’t like the word Love. “Italians overuse it.” He says . “Amore. Everyone is called Amore.” He thinks it’s lost its meaning. So she and he rather than saying love simply look at one another and put their hand on their heart and say “Home. “ Home is a feeling not just a place. Waking into my colleagues Danielle and Jean Pierre’s home in Paris last night it felt like home. This week during @parisdecooff_official will be a whirlwind of planning and meetings and parties and lunches and more champagne than any one woman really deserves.

But first a margarita at home with family.


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