I cannot believe my luck. The Paris Art Fair runs this weekend. Think a smaller Basel Miami only it’s Paris. I found this out when I went to make the rounds of the gallery district which is now in Le Marais, in walking distance from my apartment. A number of them were closed in preparation for the fair.
I walked in endless circles on very narrow streets amongst galleries, boutiques and hidden historical sites and museums. I toured the Picasso Museum and was moved more by the mansion than the art. It was gratifying to see some famous pieces, but, much of it belongs in storage, to put it nicely.
I wanted to get some way-out funky, no-one-has-them-anywhere shoes, but alas, apparently cowboy boots are the next wave (again?). I came all the way from America and Parisian boutiques are filled with cowboy boots. I’m going to complain, endlessly. I guess there’s always Italy for shoes.
I saw no art that floored me. I met a few friendly gallerists, but much of what is here is the same as what is everywhere. We’ll see what’s up at the Art Fair this weekend.
One of the million or so French on the street yesterday, or perhaps it was some other contact, had a virus and I caught it. So instead of going out on the town tonight I’m curling up with hot steaming tea. Only 2 days left, and so much to do, I still have not seen Eiffel, and there is the Pompidou.
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