Game On, MVE

You know the expression ‘You can take the girl out of the country/small town, but you can’t take the country/small town out of the girl’? Well, all of that to say that even though I spent 6 years in Paris, I still don’t whip out the Louboutins to go to the market.  This coming from the wife of a man who shaves, showers, irons his pants (!) and puts on Prada boots to take the dog out for a pee.

Anyway, to minimize shame upon my husband in our new place of residence, I have been making a solid effort to both shower and put on make-up before exiting the house. Not at his request (he values his life….) but because we live in a nice area where ‘dress sweatpants’ – even Lululemons – are not acceptable attire. (I totally should have done a rundown on this annoying fact before renting an apartment in this neighborhood, but too late now.)

Saturday arrives, and I get done up and head off to market. Good thing I left my ‘dress sweatpants’ at home, too, otherwise I could have missed out on making an ally in the war against my MVE (Market Vendor Enemy – aka the flower guy who ripped me off.)  

I saunter by his stand and give him the snub, which he does not notice in the least. In hind sight, that is quite normal, seeing as how this week he does not recognize the new me (showered, appropriately dressed and made-up) compared to last week’s pony tail, hoodie and glasses. Enough said.

I stand in line, almost beside him, at his competitor’s stand and wait to order flowers. A well-to-do grande Dame in front of me huffs, “This isn’t Paris, you thief!” and shakes her fist at him. He scurries to the far end of his stand and pretends not to hear her.  She has on a flashy Hermès scarf, a long fur-trimmed cashmere coat and is carrying a Dior handbag. A little man (Husband? Driver? Concierge?) is standing nervously at her side.

I give her the one over and think, this is a lady I might like to know.

“15 euros for roses? Who does he think he is fooling!?” she rants on.

I can’t help myself, “You are not alone. He ripped me off last week. I am new here and as soon as he heard my accent, I got the ‘Foreigner Special’.”

“Shame on him! A young girl like you. And your French is very good. Don’t worry too much about him. I’ll see to it myself that he does not last here long if he keeps it up.”

“Count me in. I will not buy a single flower from him again.”

She pats my hand and says “Welcome to the 6^th, darling. I’ll be seeing you around, for sure.” Then with a little wink, off she goes in a cloud of Chanel perfume.