Diagnosis: Parisophilia

Photo: Paul James Hay

I lived in Paris the year I was twenty.  I'd been trying to get there since I was a kid -- didn't care so much about France, just wanted to get to Paris.  To me, a bookish kid in blonde, beachy Southern California, Paris seemed like heaven for the smart, the complex, the sexy.

Reading Les Misérables ignited a wild resurgence of my long-subjugated Parisophilia.  I've started feeling nostalgic and wondering what my old love is up to.

So I've ordered a spate of guilty-pleasure expatriate memoirs from Amazon and the library and am indulging myself by basking flagrantly in their pages, catching up on Paris.

Here's what I've got:

• Paris to the Moon
• Almost French: Love and a New Life in Paris 
• What French Women Know: About Love, Sex, and Other Matters of the Heart and Mind 
• Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes
• Parisian Chic: A Style Guide by Ines de la Fressange (pre-ordered!)