Paris as a destination has long been fetishized. A hub for dreamers, romantics and intellectuals, the city is firmly anchored in the world’s collective consciousness as a place that plays up beauty and pleasure in ways no other location can. It inspires and isolates, educates and infuriates and depending on the emotional state in which you find yourself when you visit, it can also foster life-defining change.
One of the women I admire tremendously (from afar, alas, as our schedules didn’t align for us to meet when she was in France in the spring) is Felicia Sullivan, a spectacular writer and powerful voice for women. I followed her travels earlier this year on her blog Love.Life.Eat. with great fascination – a need to bonfire the past was, among many reasons, a driving factor behind her visit. It wasn’t to fall in love or gawk at iconic landmarks but to find herself. Here, she shares how Paris offered just the medicine she needed.
When I first came to Paris, I fell in love with the idea of the city. A city that was somewhat like New York, but wasn’t with its buildings that had the advantage and patina of…
