Friday I mentioned that I would be celebrating the next stage in my friend’s life over the weekend- her official move to Paris to marry her fiancé – and it was magical. Had we anticipated the celebration would turn glacial with some of the coldest temperatures on record for November, however, we would have foregone the thin but trendy frocks for attire with more layers.

The ceremony was intimate and lovely – her fiance’s parents and siblings drove in from Lille and were overjoyed by the idea of a new, slightly exotic, addition to their family.  Of course, the other star of the afternoon was her new nephew, Valentin, who, with his unshakable smile and innocence, had us all longing wistfully for another go at childhood. Though he certainly couldn’t appreciate the decadence of my friend’s homemade mini chocolate cupcakes with nutella frosting nor the refinement of Ladurée and Pierre Hermé macarons in quite the same way we could. 

Nor the deviled eggs, which was a novelty to all the non-Americans.

And what French celebration would be complete without the elegantly poised grandmother?

Or an Hermès scarf from said grand-mère to properly induct her into French society? 

To complete the afternoon of drinking, laughing and overall merriment, the union of a beloved American treat…

And a dainty French delight. 

We know which treat won in his book….