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About Paris

Me, I’d be terrible at it—too loud, too freaky! “It’s showtime!” I’d yell, and they’d probably run screamin’. Picture me, Beetlejuice, hagglin’ prices— “50 bucks? For that? C’mon, I’m a freakin’ icon!” Ha! Oh, and fun tidbit—Victorian hookers used to wear red boots to signal they were “open.” Subtle, huh? Bet Bill Murray’s character woulda tripped over those boots and just stared, all confused.

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I often hit up the old market near Place de la Mairie. Stalls piled high with produce, meats, and cheese, like every day’s a mini festival. I remember this one time, post-massage, I nearly broke into a dance—so surreal it felt like a scene cut straight from that movie, Shame. Crazy, right?

Fury as French officials put up hundreds of flags to mark D-Day but LEAVE OUT Britain