smokeswirls (smokeswirls) wrote,
smokeswirls
smokeswirls

Last night was one of the highlights of my time in Paris thus far.

On a whim, Kelly and I went to the ravishingly gorgeous Opera Nationale de Paris. We were craving some culture. When we read the names Marc Jacobs and Philip Glass, we were immediately sold. We decided to splurge on 65 euro tickets. This is what we saw:

Duato / Lock / Millepied
White darkness / AndréAuria / Amoveo

Three contemporary choregraphers present their work: the young Benjamin Millepied creates Amoveo, on Philip Glass music ; White Darkness, Spanish choregrapher Nacho Duato’s piece, enters the repertory; and finally Edouard Lock, with André Auria, created at the Opéra national de Paris in 2002.


The night consisted of ubiquitous beauty. It was everywhere. Everything from the architecture to the people to the choreography. Kelly and I felt seriously underdressed for such an occasion. This reinforced to me the importance of looking good all the time, because you just never know. There was a wonderfully chic (American) girl in the row in front of me, whose outfit I absolutely fell in love with. She had long, soft, almost waist-length honey blonde hair, and was wearing a long-sleeved mauve knee-length dress with to-die-for black heels. She looked as if she belonged on the staff of Vogue or Harper's Bazaar. I wouldn't be surprised if she was.

The ballet and great style was not the only component that led to me decide that it was one of the hightlights of my time here. In addition to seeing the ballet, we also saw someone else:

Marc Jacobs. Yes, the Marc Jacobs.

While waiting for the show to begin, Kelly and I sat on one of the staircases. I saw a nicely dressed, very petite man walking past us. My first thought was: "He looks a lot like Marc Jacobs." I continued to stare at him, but I ultimately convinced myself that he was just a man that bore an uncanny resemblance to the designer, even though I knew that Marc Jacobs had designed the costumes of "Amoveo." I was under the impression that Mr Jacobs still had the longish hair, and I didn't think that he was so petite. But, I should always trust my instincts because at the end of "Amoveo," the aforementioned man came out onto the stage. At that moment, I knew that I had been right. Of course I was right. I had dismissed my THE Marc Jacobs had indeed been only three feet away from me moments earlier.
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