Tea and Tattered Pages
Finding a refuge for the lonely Anglo expat.
Paris Kiosque - September 2002 - Volume 9, Number 9
Copyright (c) 2002 Lauren Elkin - Used with permission.
It was a long haul from my apartment on Avenue de Saxe to the laundromat in
the Rue Mayet, about five New York City blocks. Not very far at all when
walking briskly, unencumbered, but quite far when one has a heavy backpack
of laundry strapped to one's back and Parisian traffic to navigate. Be that
as it may, since there was no laundry room in my building, there was no
alternative but to schlep it to the laundromat. I must qualify that by
adding that there was no financially responsible alternative for I could
have contentedly avoided doing the laundry in the seven months I lived in
Paris, replacing my dirty clothes with brand new ones from my frequent
shopping jaunts at Printemps and the lovely shops around St-Sulpice.
However, this was not a viable option, thus the biweekly trips to do the
laundry.
I had heard that laundromats were big pickup joints, popular American
expatriate hangouts (heck, everyone has to do their laundry), but the only
person I ever spoke to was a guy who asked me to go ice skating with him and
his family in front of the Hotel de Ville (I must have looked very young and
lonely for this guy to want to adopt me). Suffice it to say, the laundromat
was not quite the social hub I'd heard about, or at least not in my
neighborhood.
One day, growing tired of the plastic chairs numbing my butt
as I ploughed through Eugenie Grandet waiting for my washing to finish, I
closed the book and walked out to explore the surrounding area.
Ten feet past the laundromat, I saw a rack of used books. My eyes traveled
from the sidewalk up the rack to the sign which read "Livres a 10 F" and
above that, one proclaiming the store contained "Tea and Tattered Pages."
This sounded more stimulating than reading Balzac to the hum of a dryer, so
I went inside to poke around in the stacks.
I walked into a room which felt slightly worn, as if mirroring the gently
used and evidently well-read condition of the books lining the store from
top to bottom. They were everywhere-- lining the shelves, piled on the
cashier's desk, stacked on a spiral staircase descending into the floor to
an unseen basement where there waited, undoubtedly, hundreds more books like
those visible from the floor up.
But very interestingly enough, the store wasn't limited to books. Past the
rows of shelves I noticed a back room. I pulled aside a beaded curtain and
found a shabbily genteel tea room. The chintz and ruffled pillows invited
me in, and I sank gratefully into the cushioned banquette of a corner table.
A woman in a half apron brought me the menu, which in addition to an
attractive suggestion of teas included an array of American and British
snacks I hadn't yet been able to find in Paris. They even had bagels!
My Earl Grey tea was brought by the owner, Kristi Andersen, in a little
teapot that yielded several cups of tea and a feeling of being well
looked-after and cared for. I was allowed to read and hang out in this
sanctuary for as long as I wanted, and more hot water was proffered for me
without my even asking. On successive visits, I expanded my order to
include cinnamon toast (melted butter on toast, lightly dusted with cinnamon
sugar, just the way my mom used to make it).
The one detriment to my feeling of utter peace and magnanimity toward all
fellow creatures was the somewhat noisy parrot. His sqwaking eventually
faded into the background noise of customers and the classical music on the
radio.
On all successive visits to the laundry, and even on non-laundry days, I
found myself bringing my work with me to Tea and Tattered Pages, and I began
to add their moderately priced paperbacks to my own book collection. I was
rewarded for my purchases with a fidelity card, which will eventually
entitle me to a free book, I am told.
Free book or no, Tea and Tattered Pages is one of the best places in Paris
for a lonely expat to find a little piece of home. Go forth and enjoy. And
don't mind the parrot.
Tea and Tattered Pages
24 rue Mayet, 75006
01.40.65.94.35
Lauren Elkin is a New York-based freelance writer and graduate student. She
spent the past summer in Paris working as a research
assistant at the Sorbonne, in the
Centre de recherches sur la littérature de voyage.
She can be reached at
laurenelkin@hotmail.com.
Editor's Note:
Dear Readers, while our writers are always
delighted to hear and to receive comments, both about their columns in the The Paris Kiosque,
as well as your experiences in Paris,
they are unable to answer any requests
for travel information.
Thank you for your understanding.
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