Walking through the sun-lit rooms, Debussy plays. No one, besides us seem to be under 60 years of age, and for one of the first occasions in a Paris museum most everyone seems to be whispering in French. It's as though the two of us were invited to be amongst the elite at the Musée Jacquemart-André. The beautiful home is a unique showcase of classic french interior filled with collected artwork. A chateau in the city, Edouard and Nelie's home off the boulevard Haussmann is tucked behind a courtyard with trimmed shrubbery, where the sun seems to be beaming most of its rays. We enter through large beautiful french doors along with the other invited guests, and as we stroll through the bourgeois setting we're introduced to Eugène Boudin. We hadn't been introduced before, not in any of my art history classes, or not that I could remember. Perhaps he slipped by without proper recognition, but in this setting with Debussy's abstract dancing finger taps on the piano keys and the sophisticated, much matured guest-list; Eugene is not to be forgotten. Scenes of high society sun bathing in so many layers, under so many tents is an activity from another era. One could never see such a scene in these modern days, but the idea of it all has its appeal. He captures the romantic lighting of Normany and Bretagne; the golden sand, the blue skies, often with thundering clouds in the distance. It makes me long for summer. After our noble walk-through, still with a certain amount of naivety in comparison to the others, we stop in the restaurant for mint tea and lemon meringue tart. I daydream of silk ribbons buried in golden sand and lace-patterned tanlines.
Bisous,
Reba
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