Well, winter has finally arrived here in Paris. The temperatures have been below freezing for the past couple of days, but at least it was sunny yesterday. After spending a few days indoors during Christmas, I got out for a walk and it felt good.
I have been in a bit of a down mood for a week or so, having stalled on what I hope will be the last (for now) version of Oui Madame. Of course, it has a lot to do with the light, but at least we've passed the solstice, so I can take some comfort from that. I do miss summer, among other things, especially my family.
I can also take comfort from knowing that this little struggle is far from difficult, considering what others have to endure. I noted, for example, that one of the two men crossing Antarctica, alone and unaided has reached his destination (https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/26/sports/antarctica-race-colin-obrady.html). The other man will reach his goal in the next day or two. I mention this because the burden of writing a screenplay hardly compares to what they've been through, and I should indeed consider myself lucky. The apartment is warm and I am well-fed.
In the news today is a story about a 71 year old Frenchman who is crossing the Atlantic in a barrel, so when I think about what he will go through in the next couple of months, again, I am not going to complain. I noted in the article (https://edition.cnn.com/2018/12/27/europe/barrel-atlantic-crossing-scli-intl/index.html) that his space is roughly the same size as mine, but at least I can get out and do not expect to get seasick!
Yesterday I went looking for a kosher deli, thinking that in a city this size, I should be able to find a good pastrami sandwich and perhaps a bagel, but alas, it seems not to be the case. I walked down to the Marais, which was known as the 'Jewish' quarter when I was here in the 70's but found it to be completely transformed into an 'upscale' shopping district. It seems as if this is all that's left in the new millennium, the same stuff that one finds in every city from Austin to Paris. A recent trip to Amsterdam revealed the same reality: Chanel, Gucci, Coach, The Kooples, Louis Vuitton etc, on and on. And it's all the same, derivative and repetitive, as if the imagination from the fashion industry has long been drained and with a purpose toward self-advertisement: wealthy consumers want to wear a brand, devoid of originality, simply proclaiming their excess assets to the world.
I have long wondered why people wear advertisements on their sleeve without compensation, but the way the major brands have evolved, that's all that's left and is perhaps the whole point. If you can afford Prada, you want everyone to know it. What's worse is the fact that these stores look not much different than Walmart, with racks and racks of identical clothing and accessories. I think if I paid that much for a dress or a purse or a suit, I'd want it to be in limited supply if not unique. But in store after store, neighborhood after neighborhood, it's all the same.
Having just seen a documentary on Paris haute couture, I realized that while Karl Lagerfeld may indeed be a creative genius, what becomes of his vision is just more trash, coveted but hardly valued except in the basest sense. It must be disappointing to him, I think, to realize that once he's let it go, the world will corrupt his vision by reducing it to the lowest common denominator, the sale rack.
Ok dear reader, just a little venting today. Tomorrow will be better, I am sure.
I have been in a bit of a down mood for a week or so, having stalled on what I hope will be the last (for now) version of Oui Madame. Of course, it has a lot to do with the light, but at least we've passed the solstice, so I can take some comfort from that. I do miss summer, among other things, especially my family.
I can also take comfort from knowing that this little struggle is far from difficult, considering what others have to endure. I noted, for example, that one of the two men crossing Antarctica, alone and unaided has reached his destination (https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/26/sports/antarctica-race-colin-obrady.html). The other man will reach his goal in the next day or two. I mention this because the burden of writing a screenplay hardly compares to what they've been through, and I should indeed consider myself lucky. The apartment is warm and I am well-fed.
In the news today is a story about a 71 year old Frenchman who is crossing the Atlantic in a barrel, so when I think about what he will go through in the next couple of months, again, I am not going to complain. I noted in the article (https://edition.cnn.com/2018/12/27/europe/barrel-atlantic-crossing-scli-intl/index.html) that his space is roughly the same size as mine, but at least I can get out and do not expect to get seasick!
Yesterday I went looking for a kosher deli, thinking that in a city this size, I should be able to find a good pastrami sandwich and perhaps a bagel, but alas, it seems not to be the case. I walked down to the Marais, which was known as the 'Jewish' quarter when I was here in the 70's but found it to be completely transformed into an 'upscale' shopping district. It seems as if this is all that's left in the new millennium, the same stuff that one finds in every city from Austin to Paris. A recent trip to Amsterdam revealed the same reality: Chanel, Gucci, Coach, The Kooples, Louis Vuitton etc, on and on. And it's all the same, derivative and repetitive, as if the imagination from the fashion industry has long been drained and with a purpose toward self-advertisement: wealthy consumers want to wear a brand, devoid of originality, simply proclaiming their excess assets to the world.
I have long wondered why people wear advertisements on their sleeve without compensation, but the way the major brands have evolved, that's all that's left and is perhaps the whole point. If you can afford Prada, you want everyone to know it. What's worse is the fact that these stores look not much different than Walmart, with racks and racks of identical clothing and accessories. I think if I paid that much for a dress or a purse or a suit, I'd want it to be in limited supply if not unique. But in store after store, neighborhood after neighborhood, it's all the same.
Having just seen a documentary on Paris haute couture, I realized that while Karl Lagerfeld may indeed be a creative genius, what becomes of his vision is just more trash, coveted but hardly valued except in the basest sense. It must be disappointing to him, I think, to realize that once he's let it go, the world will corrupt his vision by reducing it to the lowest common denominator, the sale rack.
Ok dear reader, just a little venting today. Tomorrow will be better, I am sure.
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