Four Days in Paris and Two Books

H had been wanting to go back to Paris for some time but I wasn’t so keen; then a friend raved about an art deco exhibition she’d seen there. That, and her reassurance that queues to see the newly restored Notre Dame weren’t nearly so horrendous as I assumed, convinced me to go.

Walking down treelined boulevards in April sunshine towards the Musée de Cluny, I wondered why I’d been so reluctant to revisit the city before remembering the clogged roads and stink of petrol that once ruined it and Parisians’ lungs. Without all that, it’s a glorious, elegant place; a pleasure to stroll around.

After lunch we wandered over to the Arab World Institute, home to some beautiful artefacts, artwork and costumes, my favourite of which was the elegant wrap, perfectly designed to protect you from desert dust storms. Unfortunately, many of the displays were poorly lit with light bouncing of the glass making them hard to see properly. Oddly, Jordanian artist Suha Shoman’s Petra-inspired painting with its evocative desert colours, was left unprotected.

Wednesday’s treat was the Musée des Arts Décoratifs‘ exhibition celebrating 100 years of art deco which J had enjoyed so much. Beautifully laid out with a floor devoted to several patrons and designers, from Nelly de Rothschild to Eileen Gray, the exhibition began with the some fin de siècle context including what proved to be one of my favourite exhibits. Lots of gorgeous pieces although, sadly, photography was restricted. The exhibition ended with a few fabulous mock-ups of Orient Express wagons-lits including one from the proposed relaunch which I knew nothing about although the penny dropped when I spotted the monsoon shower. No idea how much a ticket would cost and perhaps it’s better not to know.

We quickly moved on from the crowded rue de Tivoli avoiding the Tuileries where the wind blew up so much dust on our way to the exhibition, it made me nostalgic for yesterday’s impressive indigo Tuareg headdress in the Arab World Institute.

Thursday was Notre Dame day. Many readers will remember the shocking pictures of the fire which broke out in the cathedral’s eaves on April 15th, 2019. Astonishingly, it was reopened in December 2024, after an international band of craftspeople had been assembled to restore it. At the opening ceremony both they and the firefighters stood at the front of the congregation to loud, well-deserved applause.

Restoration continues at the back of the cathedral but the interior is breathtaking, from the tremendous rose windows to the exquisitely decorated side chapels. Such an achievement, both by the craftspeople and those who managed to organise such a feat. There’s no charge to visit Notre Dame which is freely open to ‘all men and women of good will’ as its website puts it, as it’s been for 860 years.

On our last day we decided to visit Musée d’Orsay housed in an old railway station which rivals Antwerp‘s in its grandeur. I’m not a huge fan of the French statutory which lines the ground floor so headed first for the art nouveau exhibits one of which sported a bed so large you’d need an entire Parisian apartment to put it in. Remembering how much we liked Vilhelm Hammershøi‘s work in Louisiana, our next stop was a small exhibition celebrating Nordic art my favourite of which was the tiny, exquisite Landscape of Starry Mountains with a House and a Lamppost by Swedish artist Axel Törneman.

Such a gorgeous afternoon, we spent it outside wandering around the Marais which is stuffed full of cafes and tiny boutiques, getting in the locals’ way along with lots of other tourists.

And the books? Joe Thomas’s gripping Red Menace is the second in the trilogy I began in Glasgow a few years ago with White Riot. Set in the mid-80s, it follows a similar multi-stranded structure, blending fact and fiction as the shady goings on around the Docklands development play out against the backdrop of the long-running Wapping print workers’ strike, the Broadwater Farm tragedies and police corruption. I wonder what the third episode will tackle.

Part of his Emily Maxwell series, Stewart O’Nan’s quietly poignant tale of ageing and friendship, Evensong, picks up Emily and her sister-in-law Arlene’s stories begun in Wish You Were Here which I read earlier this year in Copenhagen. I’m hoping I get my hands on a copy of the middle volume, Emily Alone, which no longer seems to be available in the UK.