It was at the end of a street near the Champs Elysees. I walked by it all the time on my way to the movies, to a restaurant, to meet some friends. It was a fixture in my life, a fixture I rarely looked at let alone went into.
Why would I? Chanel was a store for old ladies. Old fuddy duddy ladies. All those woolen suits. All that bling before bling was hip. At times I would note that the suits were a tad more purple than the last season, or that pink was particularly prominent that year. But I never, ever felt the urge to go in.
It amazes me that something that felt so distant to me is something I remember clearly whenever I walk down that street in my mind. I couldn’t tell you what the stores around that Chanel boutique contained, but I remember that store so clearly.
It is for me one of the landmarks that portray my home town to me, so much so that when I see a picture of Jacqueline Onassis Kennedy, wearing one of her trademark Chanel suits, or when I actually see someone in the street with one (rare, but not unheard of) I’m instantly transported back to that street corner and feel like I’m walking towards and evening of fun with my friends.
This post was loosely inspired by the Silicon Valley Moms Blog bookclub pick of the month Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky by Chris Greenhalgh. Be sure to visit the Silicon Valley Moms Blog to see other posts inspired by the novel.