I'm obsessed with vintage hats. Tucked among the winding streets of Montmartre and nestled in century-old miniature boutiques, lies countless vintage finds, from grandma's old socks to artisan jewelry. Despite the waves of touristic clamour, one can certainly find solitude and reverie in authentic Parisian finds if one looks hard enough. I ventured along a random road today, after breakfast at one of my favorite cafés: Coquelicot (more on that later), and an afternoon spent with my face pasted onto store windows, fogging up the marvelous displays with my cheap penniless student's breath. I had to go in. There in the window displays were beautiful, intricate, and delicate vintage hats. I stepped into the toasty boutique, small, and dimly lit, away from the cold air. The woman at the desk greeted me "Bonjour" and continued working. . . on a hat? She had a needle & thread in her mouth and scraps of houndstooth fabric on her desk. I gazed and oggled at all the glorious hats -- skull caps, sculped hats, feathered, and flowered. I felt like I had stepped into another world. A world of exorbitantly priced and adorable hats. Dumbfounded, I tried to express my appreciation in French, but it came out all retarded, as usual. She was nice enough, though, and humoured me with a pitied smile, telling me that she & 8 other people crafted these hats by hand. She also kindly told me that I was more than welcome to try them on, even though my head of Dove shampooed hair was not worthy. I dared not to, as I did catch a glimpse of a price tag, and 90 Euro was a tad over my budget, knowing my impulsive nature. I graciously declined and secretly hoped that she would like me enough to just give me one. Curse the gods for my lack of charm however. I took a business card & thanked the kind French lady.
Rose Durantin
27 Rue Durantin
75018 Paris
Métro: Abbesses
http://alexandrachamaillard.free.fr/images/stories/Accueil/accueil2.jpg
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