Shopping in Paris is exhilarating, but without a plan, it can quickly become overwhelming. With endless boutiques, beautiful streets, and impossibly good window displays (the French really excel at this), it’s easy to wander for hours and still walk away empty-handed.
As a self-proclaimed Type A traveler, I’m the one with an icon-coded Google map, a meticulously organized itinerary, and at least three backup restaurants for every meal. So, spending an agenda-free afternoon in Paris felt like I was rebelling against my natural wiring. It was equal parts liberating and mildly terrifying—with a definite emphasis on terrifying.
London mornings have a magic of their own. Imagine fog drifting off the Thames, the quiet buzz of black cabs, and the inviting aroma of a fresh flat white alongside a croissant or avocado toast. Here, breakfast isn’t just a meal, it’s a blend of tradition and modern style.
Weekends. Do you exist anymore? I am beginning to wonder. If I remember correctly, a weekend was defined by the time I closed out of PowerPoint and shut my computer down on Friday afternoon until it was booted back up on Monday morning. This time was typically used for leisurely activities: checking out movies, shopping, and cocktailing with my friends.
I’ve always considered myself one of Nashville’s rarer specimens, a native, born and raised, from back when that still meant something. As I drive through Music City, I’m not sure I recognize the city that raised me.