At last- my chocolate love of a lifetime consumated in the old chocolaterie of Paris. Angelina's. I arrive and choose a table where I can look out into the mirror and mural lined salon. Sharply dressed waiters bring porceline bowls and cups to customers. I order the most sinful- the specialité- Africaine hot chocolate. Melted milk chocolate in little caraffe, accompanied by a little dish of fresh whipped cream. The liquid pours slowly into my cup. I take the spoon and stir in my whipped cream. A little drop of stray chocolate sits balanced on the spout of the caraffe. I rescue it with the tip of my finger and bring it to my lips. It is the smoothest chocolate I've ever tasted. To eat chocolate is delightful; to drink it is simply decadent. My belly already feels full after two or three sips. I can't finish it. I shouldn't finish it.
The chocolate tastes like the happiness of a child when given a treat. It is thick and soft and the color is pure.
I don't finish my chocolate cup. It's really impossible. Perhaps if I ate nothing for a day or two, I could go to Angelina's and finish it. But no. I can't, and I'm glad. The chocolate left in cup and caraffe seems fitting for such a salon. The polite portion taken; the decedant leftover remains as a symbol of its worth. My tongue will miss you, Angelina.
After leaving chocolate bliss, I set out to find CHANEL's original boutique. I stumbled happily upon rue Cambon and eagerly traversed the street. I began searching for the boutique. I pass 18 rue Cambon. A little further. Then 21. Nearly there. I find it at last. A well dressed man opens the door as I walk into the most beautiful boutique I've ever seen.
They were kinder here. I wandered and looked at everything. Everything. I even tried on a necklace. It looked beautiful. I felt proud that I had been brave enough to ask. I felt less excluded here, yet I also felt like I was in an art gallery. It truly took my breath away.
At last, Coco, we meet in person.
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