Paris on the Horizon

Hey there,

It’s happening.
It’s happening.
It’s happening.

In less than 24 hours, I’ll be already a few hours into my flight.
In less than 24 hours, I’ll be on my way to truly calling Paris home.

It’s happening!

And yet it still continues to feel surreal. Let’s recap how we got here:
2010 – Ian (boyfriend at the time, best friend of the present) convinced me to go to Paris after I complained about how I had no interest in seeing that city, didn’t care for the French, and never considered it as a travel option. Stepped into the city and immediately fell in love.
2011 – Returned to the city because I loved it so much. And here is where the French obsession really skyrocketed.
2012-2015 – Obsessively collected all items that were Paris themed, all books about Paris, all memoirs of people who did the move to Paris from another country, got a Paris tattoo, lamented about Paris not being my every day reality, wrote poems about Paris, cried over Paris, used Paris in my EMDR therapy sessions to cure me of my PTSD…
2016 – Returned to Paris after facing my sexual assailant in court. It was an amazing trip. Cried the day I had to come home.
2017 – Told anyone who would listen about my dreams of moving to Paris.
Beginning of 2018 – Had a dream about living in Paris that felt more real than ever before, just a week before my 30th birthday. Applied to jobs, immediately got an interview, was accepted, this was it
March 2018 – Went to Paris for the first time on my own, loved the feeling of it, loved knowing I’d be coming back to it and calling it home.
May 2018 – I found my very first Parisian apartment in the 3rd Arrondissement!
Summer 2018 – And I’m off —

Paris is on my horizon.
Get ready for a lot of photos, people!

xo
C

Amazing Thrift Finds

Hey there,

I just want to take a bit of time to talk about the amazing thrift store/resell/consignment stores that I’ve frequented in the last month, finding some of the most amazing additions to my wardrobe and jewelry box! While my finds are numerous, extensive, overflowing-my-luggage-planned-for-France, the specific buys I’m going to talk about are in my feature image for this post (starting from left to right). I’m also going to tell you what I paid for everything and their compare at price, linking the items or comparable items if possible.

On the far left:

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Absolutely everything you see in this image is thrifted #notnew!
Starting at the top, you’ve got a gorgeous Coach necklace from Style Encore Oakville (@styleencoreoakville). $15 comparable Coach statement necklaces of this size go for about $200, new.

My mustard yellow tank which goes with everything these days was $6 from Style Encore Oakville. It’s not labelled so I’m not sure what the comparable would be.

The skirt is Tory Burch and I got it from Re’volver (@revolverburlington) for $20 with tags on! Compare at $100 from Tradesy (used) or 395EUROS for a skirt of the similar length and fabric from the Tory Burch website.

The purse is a Furla Perla crossbody in Aubergine that I got from Style Encore Guelph (@styleencoreguelph) for $45! It was in pristine condition and came with a dust bag. I don’t think it was every used! Compare at $200 from Ebay for this specific bag or new crossbodies from Furla cost around $480!

Second from the left:

IMG_20180803_123019_238

Starting at the top, the necklace is Bauble Bar and I got it at Plato’s Closet Burlington (@platosclosetburlington) for $5! Comparable prices for similar statement necklaces from the Bauble Bar website are $58USD!!

The tank top is soooo lovely in person. I got it from Kiki’s Closet in Hamilton (@kikis_closet) and it was $13. I don’t have a comparable price.

The belt is Dolce & Gabbana (!!!) from Style Encore Oakville and it was $30 (!!!!!). Compare at $900+ for a standard D&G leather belt (with a single logo) WHHHAAAAATTTT!

The jeans were thrifted from Platos Closet Burlington but I don’t remember what I paid for them (something like $15?).

 

Second from the right:

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The belt is back, and they’re joined these absolutely rad loafer heels by GUCCI! Gucci are known for their square toes and loafer styles (and square toes are back in trend because of the 90s comebacks!). I paid $90 for them and I got them from Style Encore Oakville. The same shoe on Tradesy but in brown are going for $195 and I’ve only found them in black on one website and they were $250! Brand new, Gucci heels go for around $1000+.

On the Far Right:

IMG_20180816_090309_597

Unfortunately, the lighting for these pieces was absolutely terrible because I was in the basement, but both these items were found at Re’volver Burlington.

The first are are a gorgeous, gorgeous, GORGEOUS pair of Alexander Wang pants WITH TAGS! My mother was apprehensive of the colour but when it’s on, it takes on a new life. They’re perfect for winter and fall and they fit like a dream. They were $47 after taxes and the tag said “Compare at $270” but had a listed price of “$99”. I can’t seem to find the same ones online but T by Alexander Wang pants range from $250-$700 dollars. These ones had Nordstrom Rack tags on it.

And the jewel of all my finds, the gem, the glorious beauty that is this silky, satiny, smooth, sexy black skirt that fits like a dream… It was found on the 50% off sale rack, with TAGS ON. AND IT’S PRADA! I cannot find the same one with the same details online (it’s downstairs and I don’t feel like getting it to look up the serial number). It’s from Holt Renfrew according to the tags and it was originally listed at $870 but seems to have been marked down twice to $370. I got it for $55 after taxes!

—-

This is only a taste of some of the amazing finds I’ve had at local shops. Some of my favourites that are missing from this post is my vintage Prada purse that I got for $150 (compare at ~$1000), my very delicate and gorgeous and delicate vintage Givenchy wool half-sleeve sweater with logo for $65 (compare at ~$1100), and my vintage D&G long sleeve shirt that I got for $17 (compare at ~$600).

What’s the greatest find you’ve ever scored while thrift shopping? Tell me in the comments! And if you visit the stores Re’volver or Style Encore Oakville, don’t forget to tell them that @darthclaudia sent you — I’m a regular there, now, and they know me well!

xo
C

Post Scriptum: Are there any outfits you’ve seen in my Instagram photos or any items I’ve mentioned that you’d like to know more about? Hit me up in the comments and I’ll try and do a feature for you!

18 days to go

Hey there,

It’s hard to believe that we are in August already. It’s hard to believe that my dreams and goals since 2010 of being a “true Parisian” are less than a month away from coming true. It’s truly flying towards me and yet it hardly seems real. All those years of stocking up on Paris literature, of sitting, waiting, wishing that I could call Paris home, are mere moments from happening. I’m not going there to vacation, this time. I’m going there to live. I’m going there to follow my heart, my soul-calling, and we will see where life takes me from there. One day at a time!

It’s also hard to believe that the house I called home for five years, the first home I bought on my own, is just ten days away from closing and belonging to a new couple. I don’t feel attachments to places (other than Paris, obviously) so I’m ready to let this one go. It’s time to close that chapter. And I am so done with packing; I didn’t realize how much stuff I’ve amassed over the years.

In spirituality news: I had a really interesting situation the other day. I was using voice-to-text to type a message to a friend and I said a paragraph of information. None of what I said popped up on the screen, only the word ‘ROCAMADOUR’ appeared. I sent this to my friend saying, “Look what voice-to-text writes instead of the actual sentences I spoke to you. What the hell is a rocamadour, anyway!?” So, I googled it. And this is what came up: “Rocamadour is a small clifftop village in south-central France. ” 

Okay, okay, whoa, whoa, whoa — what?! Now, if you know me well enough, you know that, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m a huge hippie who is highly intuitive and is in-tune to my Spirit Guides and angels (you don’t have to believe in it, it’s real, dudes). Sometimes, they find interesting ways of communicating to me, and I 100% believe this is one of those moments. This is not a word I had ever heard before, not a place that I ever knew about, and not a word I would have spoken. Yet, here it was, appearing on my screen, and in France, where I am headed, no less!

Apart from being one of the top destinations in France for religious pilgrimages, it’s also said that, “Amongst all the villages to visit in the Dordogne Valley, Rocamadour is said to be a place where miracles happen…” Now, Rocamadour is a direct train ride from Paris and at nearly 6hours in length and only 20Euros, it would have to be a weekend trip for me, but again, I don’t take signs lightly and I am already with the intent of heading over there.

Now, the thing about me is that my Guides often use pressure on certain parts of my body (chakra locations, usually) as a way to communicate to me. As I write this post, my guides are putting immense pressure on my third eye chakra (the pressure is so intense, it’s like a migraine without the pain). The pressure got extensive as I read this information about the location: “Rocamadour has attracted visitors for its setting in a gorge above a tributary of the River Dordogne, and especially for its historical monuments and its sanctuary of the Blessed Virgin Mary, which for centuries has attracted pilgrims from many countries, among them kings, bishops, and nobles.” — Last time I went to see my medium, she accessed some past life information for me and said I was a writer for kings, bishops, and nobles in France.

The thought of going to this location and perhaps finding that it resonates with me is overwhelmingly exciting. And of course, being able to see the sanctuary of the Blessed Virgin Mary is also a gift. This town also houses a, “small twelfth-century church of Saint-Michel” – my homeboy, Archangel Michael!!

Anyway, as the countdown to home closure is on, I’ve also made a schedule for finishing up every room in the house. Today, it begins with the two bedrooms upstairs being completed. Let me tell you, the next ten days are going to be crazy. I better get to it!

I hope to be writing in here more in the near future, so stay tuned. (How do you like the website changes, by the by? Let me know in the comments!)

xo
C

 

Short Story #1 – The Tower & What Followed

Lightning.

Desolation.

Fire.

Foundations crumbling.

The Tower.

 

It all began when I flipped that damn card. How obvious. Did I expect any other? But I would continue to deny it. And that’s the day he began to grow on me.

 

I woke up that morning and he was on my shoulder, my left side, only at this point he wasn’t a he yet. He was a thing. And he was curious. And ugly. And about the size of a grapefruit but shaped like a camel. And he was black and grey. His colour projecting a small cloud over me. And he seemed to be seamless with my skin and yet he was entirely separate. He was horrifying.

 

He was silent. But he made his presence known. And I hated him. And I couldn’t shake him off of me. I tried to hide him under baggy sweaters but in mere moments, it was as if the fabric dissolved and he was sitting there for all to see. I panicked at first, tearing off my clothes only to discover they were unscathed. And then I tried layers but the same thing happened. Everyone would see him. There was nothing I could do.

 

Only people didn’t seem to acknowledge him. He was there in plain sight for all to judge and yet, despite scanning pupils that seemed to imply glances of discomfort, no one said a word. Despite my attempts to hide him, I wanted people to call him out so I knew I wasn’t crazy. But no one said a word.

 

Until one day, he did.

 

Who are you?

 

Said to me in the depths of night, as if I was the intruder in his life and he wasn’t the foreigner in mine. Disgusted, irritated, angry, and in shock, I shouted back at him. You are not welcome! You know me, you chose me, and you do not belong here! He shook on me and I got an inkling that he was laughing. As he shuddered, he grew in size, covering both my shoulders now. He spoke: You have chosen me. His weight increased. He was now not only an eyesore but a heavy load to bear. I crumpled a little under his weight before holding myself high, again. His colour intensified and the cloud over me grew larger.

 

I went back to sleep and prayed that in the morning that he would be gone.

 

But I awoke and he was there. Inflated, his colour and subsequent shadow deepened further, and his weight even worse to carry. Getting out of bed was difficult for me, so I lay there for an hour or so and contemplated how to escape my day, instead. There’s no point moping and playing the victim. You chose me. I huffed at the audacity of his comments and rolled myself out of bed.

 

I carried him throughout the day and the weight of him gave me severe anxiety.  It was difficult to breathe. It was difficult to eat. It was difficult to engage in conversation without giving hints at his existence and people shrugging off the topic from their own desire to avoid discomfort. He stayed with me and he plagued me. And as he ate away at me, I could no longer deny that I did choose him.

 

But eliminating him would isolate me. Eliminating him would have me feeling alone. Cutting myself free of his existence would mean I’d have to start over, I’d have to remember life before he began to grow on me. And in some strange way, I felt etherically attached to him. And even though I knew what to do, I still chose him. I still carried his weight. I still allowed his monstrous appearance to be a part of me and my life. I still allowed him to give me the endless discomfort that his mere existence plagued me with. He was winning. I let him live on me even longer.

 

But how could he win when I was the one to flip that card? I asked the question: does that not make me the seer? Does that not make me the wiser one in this non-consensual relationship? You see but you deny. You know but you ignore. You cast your die then expect a different roll.

 

Riddles. Now he plagues me with riddles. Games that I simply have no time for. Dramatics that take up moments of my life that should be spent dreaming, loving carelessly, relishing in happiness. And yet I am spending each waking moment with him, instead. Why?

 

So I tried to get him to go.

 

My first attempt was for me to leave:

I need to leave.
Why?
Because I said so.
You don’t mean it. You are nothing without me.
I am nothing without you.
So you will stay.

I will stay.

 

My second attempt I told him to leave:
This is not what I signed up for. This is the end.
Is it?
Yes.
You don’t sound convinced.
Yes, I am. Goodbye. Get out of here.
Okay. I’m going to hurt myself, though. It will hurt you, as well.
I can’t handle that. I’m here for you. What is it?
So I will stay?
You can stay.

 

My third attempt required a larger divide:
Enough is enough. Manipulation will not have me this time.
You don’t mean that.
I do
You don’t.
I do.
Walk with me.
You are not welcome to be a part of me, anymore.
I can convince you otherwise.
This is the end.
Can I stay?
This is the end.
This is the end?
This is the end. Goodbye.

 

And he was gone. Just like that, he was gone. The shadow he covered me with, the strength it took to get out of bed when he was weighing me down, the discomfort I felt with his existence around others, the way he seemed to permeate every moment, every piece of my life, gone. He was gone.

 

And I didn’t feel alone. And I didn’t feel isolated. And I didn’t feel as though I was starting over; I felt like I was picking up where I left off before he appeared. And I felt free. And even though I would never be able to forget his existence, I was okay with that. It was a reminder to me, an education in making sure he did not appear again, not as he once did.

 

I should have known better are words not worth lamenting. I carried him longer than I should have, I know this, and I learned. I grew. And my confidence in my intuition did, as well.

 

Always trust The Tower.

Afterall, I did ask the question and I did flip the card.

Goodbye Hamilton, Bonjour Paris

Hello there,

Well, a lot has happened this week. And with a lot happening, a lot of chaos and stress usually follows but I’ll save those woes for another post. Let me get you into the loop:

I signed the papers to put my house on the market. My house should be on the market by April 6th. My very first home is going up for my very first sale. Five years have flown by (and a lot of crap has piled up) and now it’s time to let go. I don’t have a large attachment to this house so I’m happy for whatever family starts their own memories within it’s walls.

I also got approved for an apartment, signed my lease papers, and now have a home for 3.5 months for me and Amelia come August 24th. Yes – I have an apartment. Yes – I will be LIVING in Paris. Dreams that I spoke about when I first wrote this blog are becoming a REALITY. I AM GOING TO BE A PARISIAN. A REAL PARISIENNE.

This is insane. It hardly seems real and then I get overwhelmed when it suddenly hits and I FEEL IT. I feel it. I truly feel the reality of it all.

I just can’t believe it. But I can! This is insane. Excuse me, I’m having difficulty processing this as I write this post.

Look at it! My own apartment! IN PARIS! AN APARTMENT. IN. PARIS. I have a lovely little grocery store down the street! Look at my neighbourhood (Marais)! Look at what I will call home for 3.5 months! Maybe more! Who knows! This is so thrilling!

If this is how I’m feeling when it hasn’t hit me yet, how will I be feeling when it does??!

xo

C