The impossible pitting of Paris against London

Sometimes I go to London and think “ehh.” Other times I go and am absolutely smitten, like yesterday.

The day started with breakfast and a flat white from Lantana—more artful than even the French can manage.

And then it moved onto shopping. Well, window-shopping. Although both Vuitton and Smythson have bags that I’m coveting, it was Designers Guild that stole my heart. I wanted every single item in the store—too bad the price tags were a wee bit out of my reach.

So I splurged on books instead. While I adore Galignani, I think Daunt might be the best bookstore in the world.




We strolled around Fitzrovia and Maryleborne, ogling the homes, the architecture...



... and the Francis Bacon, (more) Lucien Freud and Giacometti art at Gagosian—which sent us across town to the King’s Cross location to see an incredible Picasso show.

Throughout the day, I was scoping out the new ping-pong scene. But the only new sport I saw was the city’s three-day-old version of our beloved Velib program.

The stations are scattered all over the city; now they just need to introduce some bike lanes.

The French connection (and comparison) continued when we came across macarons at an outdoor market.


While French-trained Loretta Lui’s specimens didn’t come close to Pierre Hermé’s perfection, we loved the lemongrass flavor and that she donates to Ace of Clubs, a charity for the homeless.

Macarons were followed by fromage, of course. And, well, eat your heart out, Frenchies. Behold, The Cheese Room at La Fromagerie.


Step inside and take a giant, heavenly whiff.

After more exploring and wandering and enjoying, we toasted a great day in London with a glass of cava at Camino…


….and then I stuck my face in all the free magazines on the way home to Paris.