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afternoon in Toronto, “Midnight in Paris”

Yesterday’s feast of pleasures: a mild grey-ish day, thank heaven, so it was possible to get things done without the siren call of sunshine luring me hither. The roses more sublime than ever. I remember buying this spindly little rosebush at Loblaw’s, at least five years ago – and now, suddenly, it has come into its own. And how.

Decided to go outside despite my sniffles and set off for downtown, steering via the library to return some books, thus forcing me to go into Doubletake on the way. And there … well, you know I am a shallow person, so I hope you won’t mind a muffled scream. Occasionally, in my secondhand adventures, something extremely desirable comes along; yesterday, hanging upon the handbag rack, was a Coach bag. A geniune Coach handbag in all its thick beautifully crafted leather glory, in perfect condition, all zippers working, nothing ripped or stained – who, who, who gave this bag worth hundreds of dollars away? Perhaps the colour is not in fashion; it’s beigey-white, not the exciting colour of today’s vivid bags, but still gorgeous.
It cost $7.
I was happy.
I transferred everything to my new bag and rode on – I’d been waiting for a cloudy day to go and see Woody Allen’s “Midnight in Paris.” I expected to love it, and I did – it’s a confection, delicious. Of course, it features Paris in the most glorious light – the characters are often ALONE as they wander – you are never alone in Paris! There’s some clumsy writing that I’m surprised was left in, characters informing each other of things they’d obviously know but we the audience don’t, the problem of exposition that we talk about in writing class, carelessly effected by Mr. Allen. It’s too bad the glorious Rachel McAdams has to play such a cliché, without a redeeming feature except incredible beauty, and the ending is soppy and predictable. But he has so much fun with his Republican characters, so much fun with Hemingway and Zelda and Gertrude Stein – oh, it’s a joy.
Occasionally, as I watched, I patted my new handbag, to make sure she was still there. And then – more consumption. Yes, much as I’d like to leave this out, I am going to tell you the truth – as I left the movie theatre, I saw a sale at Ron White Shoes and could not help going in to look at his big foot section. In fact, I recognized Mr. White, shook his hand and thanked him for being a friend to the big-footed woman. And yes, there was a pair of wonderful comfortable yet elegant teacherly shoes, 70% off, fitted me perfectly. 70% off. Fitted me perfectly. Bore them away in the new handbag.
Then to yoga class at the Y, a wonderful class. Home stretched and serene to the quiet house – my son is away for the weekend and the upstairs tenant has gone back to Berlin, so for the first time in a year I have my house to myself – and to have a long chat with my mother, who was lively and cheerful and told me lots of stories. Another great gift.
And then I put on my new shoes and worked all evening, in the quiet. The greatest gift of all.



One response to “afternoon in Toronto, “Midnight in Paris””

  1. beautiful flowers, I hope my yard can also like you ,your yard is so sweet. Wish you many update photos.

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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Chris Walks
This blog evolves. It once was about travels. Now it’s a reason to be at the keyboard that I value.

Theresa Kishkan
Theresa Kishkan is a writer living on the Sechelt Peninsula on the west coast of Canada.

I walk on. With my feet, and in my mind as well.

Carrie Snyder
Wherever you’ve come from, wherever you’re going, consider this space a place for reflection and pause.


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