On a rainy day, the streets sloppy underfoot and an ashen sky overhead, there’s nothing ‘Desperately Seeking Paris’ finds more enjoyable than slogging around town. For then the city, wrapped in a gauzy cocoon, moves to a slower beat, giving you time to think. A time when people poke around more and scurry less. When ambulances with the cheekiness to shriek after midnight, send out muffled cries. And when a bus driver doesn’t mind waiting for a passenger running alongside the M1, hoping to climb on board. With the red lights slower to turn green, I mosey along listening to the song of the city.

When out walking—cellphone in hand to capture any noteworthy sights—there’s always the hope of finding another French “find”—something to put a smile on my face, a lightness in my step, a happiness in my heart. For example, when walking by the small Franklin Hotel on Easy 87th, a place loved by its guests (even though it’s not French), it was odd to note the canopy lights over the entrance darkened. O, no! Were they closing, going out of business? New York is a city quick to scrap its history. Peeking through the windows and seeing the lobby as busy as usual, I breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps they’re only changing the canopy.

Within blocks, the scent of bread baking brought me to a standstill in front of Le Pain Quotidien. Lady Luck must have been sitting on my shoulder that morning because once through the door, the hostess showed me to my favorite table by the window: Where better to watch the ladies of the Upper East Side going by? to sip a café au lait from a bottomless cup without a handle? to slather a buttery croissant with confiture de fraise, strawberry jam?

Nothing says France better than a finger-licking good croissant. My freshly-baked croissant that morning brought me back to a basket of croissants delivered by a room service waiter, head-to-toe in formal black attire at seven in the morning, at the charming hotel Celtic on rue Balzac in Paris. When he opened the door and I heard “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” the syllables rising and falling in the morning light, as he crossed the room and threw open the heavy draperies, I wondered if I was dreaming? does he have the wrong room? has he mistaken a TWA hostess for a princess? Those croissants remain the measure by which I judge each and every other croissant. And to this day, none has exceeded the delight of those in Paris.

That said, my rainy-day croissant at Le Pain Quotidien was quite good, though the service, as you can imagine, was less dramatic than that at the Celtic, now the Hotel Balzac. Nevertheless, fortified with mon pain quotidien, my daily bread, I continued north on Madison where a shock awaited me: The neighborhood is going to pieces!

Where once stood the elegant Ristorante Morini, a hollowness runs for half a block. See for yourself. A sign in the window at Purdy’s thanks everyone for their support and hopes we will follow them to Lexington Avenue when in need of fashionable eyeglasses. Next door, Premier Cru, a delightful wine shop with extremely knowledgeable personnel, likewise thanks its loyal customers for their support over the years. And the shop with the fabulous shoes? Gone.

Tragically, Demarchelier, a neighborhood gem, the most quintessential French bistro this side of Paris is gone after 28 years. A sign says they will reopen Demarchelier in Greenport in the spring of 2020. Greenport? That’s102 miles east. It’s easier to go to Paris.

Above are but a few snapshots of the warm and wonderful front room of Demarchelier, of my favorite lunch, quiche and greens, and of Madame tallying the bill. They will miss us, but not nearly as much as we will miss them, a restaurant that had the most flattering lighting in all of New York. And below is the elegant upstairs dining room of Ristorante Morini, the northern outpost of Marea Group, and the buffalo mozzarella and crostata platter that was a dream. I wish you could have joined me to experience these wonderful places for yourself. It’s too late for that, so you will have to take my word for it.

To give myself a breather, I trudged north to check on another Gallic outpost, the Bistro du Nord, to find it, too, was out-of-business, under reconstruction. A rainy day in New York gives you a lot to think about. What I’m thinking is I might have to find me a new neighborhood. Help me out…if you could live in any part of Paris, which arrondissement (area) would you choose? Why? If there’s one thing I know for sure, I’m not going to live in that new condo they’re building at the corner of Madison and East 86th Street.

The former Bistro du Nord on Madison Avenue

Well, that’s it for today, Guys and Gals. Hope to see you back next time when I’ll have the coffee ready. Until then, may life be good to you. Seriously, where would you like to live in Paris?

Artsy Demarchelier and Elegant Morini: There Goes the Neighborhood