Six Months in the U.S., Paris Toujours

On half a year back in America, the Olympics, and my Mary Lou 'do.

Aug 02, 2024

Yesterday marked six months since I returned to the U.S. after nine years of calling Paris home. Six months déjà!

Normally, on August 1st, I’d have left France for the U.S. anyway since it’s the start of les vacances when the French (and those of us who prefer not to stay in a city that takes a monthlong, collective nap) set up their “out-of-office” or tape signs to storefronts announcing their annual departure.

Surprisingly, perhaps to no one, this time I am here wishing I was there. Mostly because of the Olympics, which kicked off last Friday in a showstopping ceremony along the Seine. I have no doubt I would’ve been there had I still…been there. But that rain looked brutal anyway so all’s well that ends wet. (Don’t give me “Paris is pretty in the rain.” Imagine being one of the people who watched 85 slow-moving boats cruise by while acting as a human umbrella for the stadium seats they paid thousands of dollars for, mostly to watch it all unfold on giant screens. Or, being one of the recipients of standing-room-only free tickets only to end up more drenched than the swim team because the waterproof windbreaker they wore wasn’t so waterproof after all. Send your thoughts and prayers to Jess, who then lost the windbreaker in the metro.)

FOMO or not, after the sting of that first day, which was mostly spent holding back tears, I have settled into being on the English language side of things when it comes to learning about the athletes’ backstories through often cringy commentary and post-competition interviews. Plus, I get to view the matches from air-conditioned bedrooms or breezy rooftops with giant flatscreens. I’m also super into all the TikToks coming out of the Athletes Village, which I surely wouldn’t get to witness IRL anyway. (And we can all agree that watching any TikTok be filmed is the epitome of awkwardness, right? I love bloopers and BTS footage, but I do not want to be a part of your holding up traffic or blocking views to get the shot.)

So, anyway, half a year back in the U.S., and while I’m still not fully settled permanently, I am learning how to exist as an elder (gulp) human in a constantly shifting country, which now involves wearing calf-high socks to fit in and not admitting to my friends’ kids that I had to google Charli XCX and still struggle with how to properly use the term “Brat.”

For some reason, stuff like this didn’t seem to matter in Paris. I was aware of trending phenomena, of course. I read all the hot takes and am on social media. It all just felt more observatory. A silly little blip of nowness we all giggled about in the group chat or over €5 glasses of Savigny. Crew socks? Stanley cups? Pointy nails? Bof. Here in the U.S., however, there’s more pressure to participate and, certainly, to keep up. For better or worse, I feel more invested in assimilating. Whether that’s a me-thing or a culture-thing is probably for a therapist to dissect. (FWIW, I’ve succumbed to the socks, but not the Stanley cups and pointy nails.)

I had grand plans to share other observations; something witty like “six lessons from six months,” but truth be told I’ve been distracted by Simone Biles and co. this week, and received a last-minute story assignment. Plus, how shocking is it to learn my taste is significantly more discerning than it was 10 years ago? Especially when it comes to wine, cheese, and bread. I’d rather avoid it all entirely if it’s not up to my (admittedly high) standards. It’s like returning to Economy after sitting in First Class for so long.

I went overboard on fancy cheeses, rosemary crackers, a “French onion” spread, and skin contact wine to watch the Opening Ceremonies with friends.

I will say that while I don’t miss speaking French regularly, I do miss using it casually. There are only so many words I can throw into English conversations with my non-French-speaking friends before they toss me an eye roll emoji because they either don’t understand or don’t necessarily want to participate. Oui, parfait, and merci, they get. J’arrive, à tout, and quand même, maybe not. Oh, and I have fallen back into my old ways and been reminded that it is a true luxury and a privilege to have someone else clip, file, buff, and polish my nails. In France, manicures were pricey and salons are not as prevalent so I did it myself and mostly went au natural. While I don’t have a standing appointment or anything, they seem to have replaced my €23, three-course lunches. I do miss those, but hey, these are less buttery and last longer!

Enjoy Week Two of the Olympics and the beginning of my birthday month, friends! I’ve got a mini guide to Upstate New York for paid subs coming next week so upgrade now to receive it in your inbox. :) xx — Sara

Clickable

The best of the Olympics…so far. | Intelligencer
Bof, as the French would say. Disagree. | The Atlantic
Gen Z loves a label. | The Times
Meet NYC’s hunka-hunka storm chaster. | The Cut
An ‘ignorance audit’ sounds like a worthy exercise. | The New Yorker
Same for memorizing a poem a day. | WaPo
For the sanity of commuters, listen with headphones. | The Guardian

Share Overthinking It

Watchable

If, like me, you were wondering about the logistics of getting all those boats down the Seine, and why organizers chose to animate the now much-debated-about montage of Dionysis (and not The Last Supper) among the many other creative decisions that went into producing the Olympics’ Opening Ceremony, La Grand Seine is worth watching. The two-episode docu-series on Peacock, which—heads up!—does involve some subtitles, reveals all the major players (politicians, designers, composers, etc.), and unveils their part in manifesting and then staging such an unprecedented show. It also features voiceovers from one of my best friends who’s a news anchor in France so that was fun.

Currently overthinking…

…where to eat in NYC when someone else invites you AND says you can pick the restaurant, but it’s two days prior and all the places on your “list” are booked…

Souvenir: Mary Lou Retton

In honor of Simone Biles’ and Katie Ledecky’s record-breaking wins this week, I had to throw it back to OG Olympian Mary Lou Retton. In 1984, she was the first American woman to win a gold medal in gymnastics and the first female athlete to appear on a Wheaties box, promoting the “Breakfast of Champions.” America’s Sweetheart, who recently struggled with a life-threatening bout with pneumonia, gave way to all those who followed in her (bare) footsteps. Loved her—though did not love how her hairstyle looked on my head as a six-year-old, and to this day wonder what my mom was thinking. You’re welcome for the visual.