Street talk

It occurs to me that I haven't talked much about where I live, so today, let me introduce you to the rue St Honoré.  It's one loooong mofo of a street - at the east end, heading towards the Marais, it's quite village-y and reasonably quiet.  However, once you pass the rue du 29 juillet and keep heading westwards - what's that I smell?  Ahhh, yes.  Money.  Lots and lots and lots of money.  The street is lined on both sides with fabulous boutiques -  any designer you could possibly name (in fact, if you can think of a designer brand I can't find on my street, I'll eat my chapeau).  And every jeweler you have ever heard of,  as well as some you probably haven't, because they are only for the seriously rich. (If you do know the ones I am talking about, you are clearly ridiculously wealthy,  in which case you should be lying on the beach of your private island in Tahiti, drinking mai tais from a solid gold goblet, not wasting your time reading this blog - what's wrong with you?  Go log off and buy Sweden or something.).  And this is all before the rue St Honoré turns into the rue du Faubourg St Honoré, which is where it realllllllllllllly gets posh.   

So, every morning when I go to work, I walk for half an hour down this lovely street.  I pass Chanel, Givenchy, Dior, Yves Saint Laurent, etc.  I walk past the glittering windows of Cartier, Chopard, Boucheron, Bulgari, etc.  I reflect on how this must be one of the most expensive stretches of real estate on the planet.  Aaaaaaaaand then I step in dog crap.  Because that's just how it is in Paris, even on a street like this.