One of the many fine traits of the Japanese, which may or may not be a positive thing depending on how one looks at it, is their unrelenting perfectionism in learning a craft and after doing so to impart their own Japanese-ness onto it. Case in point- there is a boulangerie a few steps from my apartment, and it is very much like walking into Paris or France. The only thing missing is a Bonjour upon arrival and an Au Revoir, Merci upon leaving- well, that, and only some of the signs are in French (and Japanese, of course). A pain au chocolat tastes every bit as buttery and French as its over the seas counterpart, and one can imagine the experience of Parisian life and days but only with closed eyes.
Paris, my friends, is really so far away from here- even if there is a Hermes, a Cartier just ten minutes away- it is not that of Rue du Fauborg Saint-Honore or the Rue de la Paix, and could never be, and as much as I like my quaint little apartment here on the edge of the city, I would much prefer the hotel life of the Hyatt Vendome (knowing that both the Ritz and soon even the Hotel du Crillon will be undergoing renovation for two years)
Oo la la, le chic. Forgive me for writing that, but it simply had to be done.
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