Glamour Girl just returned from an extraordinary trip. She plied the waters of the Atlantic on the magnificent, fabled, uber-glamorous Queen Mary 2, a crossing that takes 7 days.
After being wined and dined and pampered to within an inch of her life (never mind that 36 hours before departure she wrenched her back so badly that she could barely walk and had to go see the thank-God-excellent medical staff on board), she disembarked at Southampton and flew immediately to Rennes, in the heart of Brittany. From there, she and hubby explored Brittany and Normandy (yes, including the D-Day beaches) for a week, then ditched the car and took the TGV to—where else—Paris, for another week. Is there any more beautiful city in the world? Okay, as beautiful maybe, but not more so. GG’s heart always beats a little faster when she’s in Paris.
The QM2 trip would require several posts of its own, but that’s not the point of this one. Suffice to say that GG and hubby are already planning their next QM2 crossing for next year. Although I will post a few pix.
Here I am feeling no pain on the upper deck as we’re leaving New York Harbor on a glorious, sunny day, glass of champagne in hand, just before the mighty ship passed under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, with only feet to spare—you swore the thing was going to crash into it—a sight so thrilling it’s impossible to forget:
And true to form for Smalltimore, even on board it made itself known: GG ran into legendary PR maven and longtime friend Edie Brown. Here we are together on one of the formal nights:
Fashion, of course, is always at hand in la belle France, and GG wasn’t disappointed. She flipped over the elegant short boots with diverse adornments all the women were wearing (unfortunately appropriate because even in late May it was mostly cold and rainy). But nowhere—and I mean nowhere, even in Paris—did she see anything approaching the little beauties she discovered in a tiny shop called L’Empreinte in Bayeux. Made by Italian designer Elena Iachi (“ee-AH-kee”), they were showstoppers.
And lucky GG, hubby bought them for her.
Here they are (sorry for the tiny pic) cradling GG’s feet on the mind-blowing Pink Granite Coast—la Côte de granit rose—on the north coast of Brittany, one of the most spectacular natural sites we’ve ever seen:
South of there, in the heart of Brittany, is the picture-postcard town of La Gacilly, home of the Yves Rocher empire. Here you will find acres of colorful flowers, wild and cultivated, covering the hillsides, flowers that go into the making of the famous cosmetics. Rocher was a pioneer in this now-common practice. You can tour the Yves Rocher complex, where you can get beauty treatments, eat at the locally sourced organic restaurant, attend lectures, and take a dip at the spa. You can also stay at the eco-hotel.
When GG got to Paris, Yves Rocher followed her there. Well, not quite. Though how could she resist posing in front of the emporium whose birthplace she’d just visited:
(And yes, that’s a cane she’s leaning on. The back problems that painkillers and wine had ameliorated on board ship lingered for the entire trip, necessitating a walking aid that she bought from a charming French gentleman at an open-air market. Yeah, it did kind of put a damper on one’s glamour, but hey, at least I was still wearing The Boots!)
Here’s a parting shot. Leave it to GG to find a great drag queen after only a few hours in Paris:
