A couple of weeks ago I travelled to the City of Lights in a trip that very nearly wasn’t. Paris is one my favourite places in the world, not only for its beauty but for the culture of a city steeped in fashion’s very history.
Here’s the thing about being a 21st Century student; have an iPhone, and you will want for nothing else. This being said, my iPhone is my only alarm, and on the morning of said trip it failed its task miserably. I was woken by my flatmate knocking loudly on my door, shouting that I would miss my train – quickly confirmed by a glance at the traitorous iPhone – followed by roughly 13 shouts of “FUCK”, four of “SHIT” and three seesaws of “I’LL NEVER MAKE IT/YES I CAN YOU CAN DO THIS TOM” (I really couldn’t). To put my despair into context, I had to get dressed and take the tube to St Pancras International from the edge of Zone 2 in 30 minutes flat. Literally Mission Impossible.
As I hurled my suitcase into the barrier, jamming it in the process and managing to scream obscenities at the general situation and the people milling around, a strange sort of serenity came over me. I had accepted my fate by the time I was at White City, and the sunglasses I was wearing on the tube definitely made everyone aware of this fact. After getting transferred to the next train for free due to the amazing customer service that Eurostar offers, I proceeded to cause a lot of stress and inconvenience to the French businessman sitting next to me by breathing, which made me feel tres accomplished. Despite all this I made it to the Gare du Nord, into a taxi and to the hotel in one piece, all for only €10.
From there, Paris was a whirlwind of losing Ella on the metro, enjoying foie gras then feeling incredibly guilty about it and wondering why every person we walked past instantly knew we were English. Seriously, its like a sixth sense they have. In my short time there I managed to battle a pickpocket, get drunk off of three Cosmos and successfully navigate the metro alone at night without a single nervous breakdown. By the end of the trip I felt I had experienced the best and worst of what Paris had to offer (the Eiffel Tower being simultaneously the best and worst, depending on your proximity to it). But most importantly of all, what did I take from this experience that shall stay with me forever? The Pounds to Euro exchange was a fucking steal and I got a £60 Zara jacket for £40. WINNING.