Ever in Love with Paris: A Lifelong Romance with the City of Light
From iconic landmarks to quiet neighborhood moments, one traveler reflects on what keeps drawing her back to Paris
I first visited Paris in 1968, a month after my parents gave me a Kodak Instamatic camera for my 10th birthday. We rode the elevator to the Eiffel Tower’s second floor, and I was so entranced by the sweeping view of Paris that I climbed the railing to snap a picture. My mother grabbed me and the camera slipped from my hands, clattering to a metal net below.
Even though I didn’t get the photo, the beauty of Paris imprinted itself on my heart, luring me back through decades and different seasons. As I’ve introduced friends and family to Paris, I’ve returned to favorite spots and discovered new reasons to adore the City of Light. Here are some of my favorites.
Art and opulence
When my husband and I took our children to France 20 years ago, they were most excited to explore the Louvre and gaze upon art’s most famous face—the Mona Lisa. They were thrilled to see her in real life, even though the jostling crowds and security measures meant her smile beguiled them from afar. We strolled for miles through the largest museum in the world, feeling as if we were marching through a mini-history of art and the world.
Whenever I’m in Paris, I spend blocks of hours inside the museum discovering new galleries, and then I take a break in the neighboring Tuileries Garden. Commissioned in 1564 by Catherine dé Medici, the gardens are a maze of geometric paths, lined by a forest of statues. Honeybees lazily buzz around blooming flowers, which are a potpourri of hues and aromas.
Nearby, in the Place de la Concorde, a plaque marks the spot where executioners guillotined Marie Antoinette in 1793 during the fervor of the French Revolution. The square is now home to the towering Luxor Obelisk, gifted to France by an Ottoman ruler of Egypt in the early 19th century, and the grand Hôtel de Crillon, a former palace built by King Louis XV that’s a masterpiece of Neoclassical architecture.
There’s more opulence close by at the Place Vendôme. Cartier diamonds sparkle in glass cases, and the Ritz Paris hotel defines luxury with an elegant afternoon tea. While visiting with my parents, I donned my favorite dress (and did my best to behave) while we sipped fragrant tea and nibbled dainty pastries. The experience is still as special today, especially with the addition of celebrity pastry chef François Perret.
Walk through history
The Musée Carnavalet paints a vivid portrait of the city. Housed in two former Renaissance-style mansions in the third arrondissement’s trendy Marais, this often-overlooked museum traces the city’s history from its Gallo-Roman era through the 20th century. The French Revolution collection includes items such as Napoleon Bonaparte’s field kit cleverly packed with 109 pieces, including a place setting and toiletries, and a French revolutionary’s macabre souvenir—a pair of gold guillotine earrings from which dangle depictions of the severed heads of Marie Antionette and King Louis XVI.
The museum’s vintage metal sign gallery preserves works of art that advertised Paris businesses from as early as the 16th century. The most recognizable is the cat clinging to a crescent moon that marked the address of the Chat Noir cabaret.
In the fourth arrondissement, on the Île de la Cité in the center of the Seine, Notre-Dame is again open to tourists five years after a tragic fire. Ten-year-old me believed spirits haunted Notre-Dame because its 28 flying buttresses (arched supports allowing for larger windows and thinner walls) looked like bony ribs on a spine, and high above, its gargoyles leered like demons in a scary movie. As an adult, I now appreciate that the cathedral is one of the most stunning examples of Gothic architecture in the world.
Less visited Sainte-Chapelle, built by Louis IX in the 13th century and sharing the same island, features stained glass windows soaring 50 feet on all sides, bathing the
nave in a kaleidoscope of color.
Little Bohemia
I’m continually drawn to the Latin Quarter, a bookish neighborhood with some of the best street food in Paris. I’ve watched students in Sorbonne University gear gather around café tables talking earnestly, and I’ve shopped for vintage novels at the famed Shakespeare and Company, an English-language bookstore that provided a haven for expat writers such as Ernest Hemingway and Gertrude Stein. The tight inner space evokes a bohemian charm, with books spilling from shelves and stacked to the ceiling.
From there it’s a 10-minute walk to Paris’ oldest café, Le Procope. Opened in 1686 as Paris’ first coffee shop, Procope sits along a narrow lane. It’s a go-to spot for enjoying a robust coq au vin stew or a steaming cup of French onion soup.
On my most recent visit to the Latin Quarter, I discovered the tented booths of Marché Maubert, where shoppers pick out pungent cheeses, bug-eyed fish and plump stalks of asparagus. I felt very Parisien as I left with a mesh bag filled with olives and oranges in one hand, and a fresh baguette in a paper sleeve in the other.
An enduring icon
On a recent visit to the seventh arrondissement, as café-goers spilled onto the cobblestones and flower markets perfumed the air, a long line piqued my curiosity, so I stepped into Amorino, a popular gelato shop, where employee-artists topped cones with rose-shaped scoops of gelato adorned with a macaron. The mango one was as delicious as it was beautiful. Enticingly designed window vignettes at the oldest chocolate producer in Paris, À la Mère de Familie, also drew me in. I picked out a praline lollipop for myself and elegantly packaged confections for family.
This is a bustling section of the city because of its proximity to the Eiffel Tower, only a 13-minute stroll away. Couples picnic on the Champs de Mars, a wide lawn leading to the iconic tower, and families gather for typical photos under the Eiffel’s arch. In the evening, a golden glow cloaks the tower, and a beacon sweeps the skies. For five minutes every hour on the hour until 11 p.m., 20,000 bulbs flash across the structure as if it has been glitter-bombed.
Tourists and locals
On my first trip to Paris, my parents meandered uphill toward Sacré-Coeur basilica, stopping along the way to buy me a red beret. As we neared the Place du Tertre, Montmartre’s small but busy square, the lilting notes of “La Vie en Rose” floated through the air and portrait artists sketched with swift hands.
These days, not much has changed in Montmartre. Although it’s one of the most tourist-laden spots in Paris, it’s still charming. Cobblestone streets wind from the tree-shaded square, which is surrounded by cozy cafés.
On my most recent visit, I climbed 222 steps up the Butte Montmartre instead of taking the funicular. I was winded as I reached the patio of the rain-washed Sacré-Coeur—and the view took away what little breath I had left. It was near sunset, and deep orange ribbons streaked the saffron skies. Paris fanned out below, a myriad of rooftops studded with clay-tiled chimneys.
The view evoked emotions similar to those that captivated 10-year-old me when I saw the City of Light through the eyes of a tourist. This time, after many visits, I experienced Paris through the lens of the many locals who gather at Sacré-Coeur each evening. It’s their hometown, yet I’ve adopted it as my own—and I look forward to returning time and again, falling ever more deeply under Paris’ spell.