While I realize that the word for cheese in this situation is actually “Ouistiti” in French–not because I speak French but because I have heard of wordreference.com–I decided that my lack of sophistication allows me to get away with using the informal lingo that most people are familiar with (and by informal lingo what I really mean is the version that is just grammatically incorrect no matter which way you slice it). Hang on, now I’m hungry for some cheese. Give me a second will you?
Thanks for waiting. Mmm, why is cheese so good? Oh yeah, anything with a density of 9 grams of fat per ounce has to taste good; it’s a law of nature. Another law of nature: the best way to walk anywhere in Paris is with a stomach happily filled with approximately 3 pains au chocolat.
After stuffing our faces with French pastries, my friends and I decided to take a jaunt down to the Arc de Triomphe. It’s located at the end of the most famous street in Paris, the Avenue de Champs-Elysees. It’s a beautiful street with endless shops and stately statues and pigeons that will most definitely poop on your head if you wait around too long in one spot. When we were about 2/3 of the way down the Champs-Elysees, my friend asked the question that all four of us were thinking: “Does anyone else smell Abercrombie and Fitch?”
We all agreed that the distinct scent of A&F was floating around in the Parisian air, but the oddest thing about it was there was no Abercrombie in sight. Intrigued by this mystery, we became like truffle pigs, following our noses down the street. Unfortunately, Abercrombie scent does perhaps too good of a job infusing the air and we were unable to pinpoint its origin after another twenty minutes of walking. Then, with the Arc standing right before us and the street performers spinning on their heads we took a break from our mission.
About two minutes into our walk back along the other side of the street we smelled the perfume again. It had to be here. We walked and walked, and then all of a sudden, we spotted a majestic building with golden gates with two male models and a bouncer standing outside. The bouncer was obviously there to protect the gorgeous boys, but that didn’t stop my friends and I from getting a picture that could conveniently be cropped so we each look like we had our own boyfriend:
What I really took away from the experience:
Picture with a French model? Mission accomplished.