The stone of the pale buildings and cobbled roads tasted like the deep oaky red wine blushing around my tongue. If Paris was a woman, her body would be beating with stories and her lips would be soft and flavorful. The air felt like a gentle exhale and the movement in the streets was vibrant. The facades of the buildings were a creamy shade with delicate trim around the fenestration. The people walking the streets were beautiful and sophisticated with flowing trench coats, and clutching leather designer bags latched with bold glimmering clasps.

I was staying at the most expensive hotel in Paris. At the main entrance men dressed in coat tail suits with top hats greeted me by name as I entered the lobby. There was a blooming display of pink hydrangeas in black vases, illuminated by chandeliers. The floors and walls were covered in sheets of marble with veins of gold and blue designs. I was led to my suite by a woman in a fitted dress and heels. When I entered my room, there was a flood of white roses; their creamy hue complimented the rest of the room, which was bathed in white. The suite opened to a lounge leading to a glowing outdoor balcony overlooking the Eiffel Tower. The creamy white surfaces were complimented with gold accents and marble. In the lounge of my suite, there was a tray of fresh macaroons and chocolates, delicately displayed. The air smelled rich and sweet, a mixture of floral fragrance with hues of light caramel.

After the concierge gracefully departed, I looked into the kind eyes of the man I loved, wrapping my arms around his neck in a warm embrace. We drifted toward the balcony and gazed out at the city, holding hands and allowing our souls to vibrate with peaceful energy.

I remember, it was only 95 days ago I was working as a consulting engineer. I had spent four years solving equations, lamenting over exams, and living in constant stress. Following that, I spent two years trying to “prove myself” as a hardworking and competent employee. As a consultant, my days consisted of stagnant motions while chained to my desk, responding to emails and worrying about how much time I spent on every task, trying to feed the corporate vampire a profit. I engulfed cup after cup of coffee to manage to stay alert and focused. I was preoccupied with the mundane, with making those around me happy. With being logical, secure, and focused. Every day I was around the same people, in the same city with the same history, and the same views on what life should be.

When I started my first day of university classes, I knew nothing about the world and what it had to offer. I couldn’t have imagined staying in a hotel with the level of service, exquisite detail, and historic atmosphere. I was unfamiliar with the 1885 Bordeaux wine classification (a list made in 1885, with five classes of french wine with the first being of the highest quality), the Louvre, and Rodin’s sculptures.

Xx,

The Independent Blonde