When Joe and I traveled to Paris in December, we stayed at a beautiful boutique hotel in the first arrondissement. Our bedroom had a quaint (read: tiny) balcony that, if we were actual Parisians and valued aesthetic more than our general health, we’d use to smoke and pout as sultrily as possible. Do as the Parisians do, we do not but I digress.
As is with most things in Paris, architecture and design are taken very seriously and could be argued as a leading contribution to the French pretentiousness everyone moans on and on about. However, I’d argue that the French aren’t pretentious at all. In fact, I think they’re completely in on the joke. I mean, how else would you explain this century-old iron railing that looks exactly like a row of dicks?!