The Streets Of Paris
In France, I swap out the U.S. SIM card in my phone for my Orange.fr SIM card. This means that I not only have a telephone number here, but that I can buy phone minutes as I use them instead of having a monthly abonnement (subscription). Unfortunately, I let my last Paris mobile number expire while I was writing the book and having my identity stolen thanks to Bank of America's seriously lax procedures for checking the identification of people asking tellers for thousands of dollars in cash.

We met Mark to get my new SIM card (which he and Chantal ordered for me off the Internet and had mailed to them to save me an hour in hell at the France Telecom store). We had a hot chocolate with him and walked around afterward, and I took some shots of people and scenes we passed going from Boulevard St. Germain in the 7th arrondissement to around Le Bon Marché in the 6th. First, les chiens:

This lady, crossing by Hotel Lutetia, rode in from some other time:

A lot of girls running around in tall flat boots and skirts:

Some apparently tire of skirts:

Here, from one of my faves, the NYT's Bill Cunningham, are the boots they're wearing on the streets of New York (mostly the same fucking fringe-dangling pair, it seems).

I think we're not in Mall of America any longer:

Jeune fille:

Heels everywhere. They call Paris "The City of Light," "a name it owes both to its fame as a centre of education and ideas and its early adoption of street lighting." I suspect its second name could be "City of the Bunion":

Window, Catherine Malandrino. Look closely; the black halter dress has little fabric "fish scales" all over it. Love the bright yellow also. People here wear black, but they also wear bright colors, and not just the women. I saw men in hot pink and orange scarves today, including Mark, a Bronx-born neo-Parisian:

Chien sans domicile fixe:

Zombiekins:

P.S. And sorry, boys, about the lack of hot babes. They all must have been hiding inside from the cold. I'll try to do better this coming week.