Lost In Paris

FOUR days after I arrived in Paris, I bought an umbrella. It had been raining on and off the entire time, and during my daily walks I’d been carrying a lightweight waterproof shell — bright green — which at the first sign of precipitation I’d unroll from its bundle and zip up, often removing it just minutes later, when the skies temporarily cleared. This was silly, I kept telling myself. There had to be a better way.

Still, I never set out specifically to buy the umbrella. It was only when, one Monday morning, I had decided to stroll the streets of St.-Germain-des-Prés, the tony Left Bank neighborhood, that the urge struck me. It happened, appropriately enough, in front of an umbrella store on the Boulevard St.-Germain.

This was no mere umbrella store. This was Alexandra Sojfer, and its windows were dazzling displays of parasols, frilly and bright and elaborate and not exactly my style — but umbrellas nonetheless. Inside, I asked about the wares, and the shopkeeper, a refreshingly friendly blond woman, who I later realized was Ms. Sojfer herself, explained that the company had been in the umbrella business since 1834 and that yes, they did carry more masculine, utilitarian rain gear. She showed me two models, a long one and a short one, both with fine carved-wood handles.

“But you know,” I said, “I come from New York, where the wind is strong and the streets are littered with the skeletons of dead umbrellas.”

Not to worry, she said. If any of the metal struts were damaged, I could simply return it to the shop to be fixed.

“O.K.,” I said, hefting a short, gray one, “I’ll take it.”

A version of this article appeared in print on October 9, 2011, on page TR1 of the New York edition with the headline: Lost in Paris




In a shell... Frilly and bright, that is what they saw me as.
everyday I become a little more waterproof, I keep telling myself
it is O.K.
If I bundle up whats inside I can find a temporary fix to the damage
I am strong enough to clear the skeletons away at least temporarily

but the wind is too strong, I am damaged everything has become gray, I cant put on my elaborate bright green frilly show anymore


I need an umbrella


someone to worry about me
someone who will see how silly this is and make it better
someone who will explain why I feel dead
someone who will help me feel un-dead 
someone to remove the skeletons


so I will stroll the streets and look into every umbrella shop until I find my umbrella
   maybe my umbrella will be short,
                                        maybe it will have a fine carved- wood handle, 
                    maybe it will be masculine or maybe it will be bright green and frilly

As long as its waterproof enough for the both of us

As long as it stops the rain 

                                                                I'll take It