Propping up the Bar

Design contre Design:catbar, originally uploaded by rhino75.

Wandering round the Grand Palais last night, clutching an empty champagne flute and in search of a bar, I came across this beauty. JUST the thing for Rhino75 Towers this Christmas, don'tcha think, dear reader? And Kitty would love it. There was also this rather saucy chair and a bed in the form of a uterus - you don't get many of those in the Ikea catalogue methinks. They're all part of a small exhibition called "Design Contre Design" which I wasn't expecting to see at all but was actually rather fun. I was there, naturally, for the big guns Courbet show. Have you noticed that no sooner do I mention that I love Courbet on this blog than the Grand Palais comes up with this exhibition - it's almost (my italics) spooky. I was familiar with many of the portraits but had never seen his landscapes before - a revelation, particularly the seascapes (check out La Vague) - or the hunting scenes. Such a wide range and yet you could see all the signs, particularly in the landscapes, of the Impressionists to come. Loved it. And I got to stand next to Bernard Tapie. While eating a bite-sized risotto. But I digress. Off to Brighton AGAIN this weekend to help sis celebrate her birthday and watch a bit more X-Factor. Hurrah!!

Two Good Reasons to Get Into Jazz

When I tell you, dear reader, that I spent Saturday night in a dark cellar, drinking cocktails and watching four - and sometimes five - men perform on a small stage, you could be forgiven for thinking "Ha, as usual, plus ça change etc." - but NO! Because this time (my italics) it was all in the name of culture. Well, nearly all - these two hotties certainly helped to rekindle my interest in jazz :-) Paris, of course, has a longtime relationship with the genre, with American jazz musicians moving to the City of Light as early as the 1920s. Who can think of St. Germain without the Age of Cool, Chet Baker, Miles Davis? And the scene here is still very much alive and kicking, so I'm not really sure why I don't go and see more. Anyway, this weekend, Pierre's friend Benjamin Le Jean was playing with his group L'Esprit de la Maison at the Caveau des Oubliettes in St. Michel. Not only was the music excellent (click on the link to check out his MySpace) but all the other details were just as they should be - a packed, smoke-filled basement, killer double-rum cocktails, pretty girls, cool guys and three sets that went on until past 2 a.m. (FYI the two sax players in the pic are Samuel Maingaud of L'Esprit de la Maison and guest Benjamin Petit). There was just one tiny - and very French - hitch in the proceedings when Benjamin Petit, after being announced as a special guest, was prevented from actually reaching the stage fora good five minutes by a long line of teens going through the obligatory French kissing goodbye ritual. Hilarious. Just to keep the cultural mix nice 'n' eclectic, dinner earlier was okonomiyaki at Aki (11 bis rue Sainte-Anne, 75002 - highly recommended) All this, plus Raph's birthday picnic in the Parc Montsouris, where I found myself playing "Time's Up!" and trying (unsuccessfully) to mime Marie Trintignant, while drinking champagne out of small bottles. More birthdays coming this week too...stand by...

Crumbs

Behold, dear reader, the fruit of my loins weekend labours. Does that look a) deelish or b) deelish? (Take your time over that one). The occasion: Sandrine's birthday. The motivation: a rash promise on my part and a tea party on hers. The result: some rather medieval scenes chopping hazelnuts in the Rhino75 kitchen, a bit of a cake-tin crisis, and finally, this baby. Of course, it went down a storm, so much so, in fact, that a Navy SEAL was spotted taking some home. And the lovely Mrs. LOG suggested I open a salon de thé, or tearoom, on boulevard Beaumarchais (well, she's my friend, isn't she?). After tea, we hopped on the bus and sped across town to see this guy's one-man show "Imagine-toi" (Imagine Yourself). Now, when I first heard that we were going to see a clown/mime artist, I was naturally afraid. Spending my Sunday afternoon watching someone walk backwards in a wind (they always do that one, don't they?) with a red nose and checked trousers is not my idea of time well spent. How wrong can you be? It was absolutely fantastic. Funny, touching, and he even got one of our party up on stage to help him out. If you're in Paris and you get a chance to see this show, GO. By the end, I was starting to find the star of the show rather cute too - yes, Rhino75 was lusting after a sweaty clown again. In my defence, I was feeling a little feeble after a bit of a HUMDINGER of a party the night before, hosted by the lovely Kirsty. I'm still getting flashbacks of dancing to the BeeGees, Peter, Björn and John, talking Tina Arena, drinking vats of delicious Aussie wine and meeting some very fun people, including a direct descendant of William Wordsworth (classy, eh?). P.S. The Parisians among you should keep an eye out for the Freresbrothers. I went to see them on Friday night with Micke (they're friends of his) and they were great fun (and fantastic singers to boot).

Crossin' the Pond

Just a reminder that posting may be a little erratic over the next week as I shall be "crossing the pond" to star with Nick in our very own version of "Ocean's Two" This is an historic event for two reasons: Firstly, it's the first time we've gone on holiday together since we were 17. Secondly, on Saturday (my birthday!! - shameless plug) , we will be doing this. If I can remember where I put the tickets. The rest of the time has already been allotted to shopping and cocktails, though I am also on a mission to bet on a secret lucky number for Mr. & Mrs. LOG. Be good.

Is that? Could it be?

Oh yes, dear reader, when my friend Mickelino decides to push to boat out, he does it in style. And just look who was the guest of honour!! I don't want to get "Hung Up" on naming names, and if you've "heard it All before, heard it all before" etc. then I'm "Sorry". That as many clues as you're getting. The pics speak for themselves (click on them to see more). It was a wonderful night: fantastic food, beautiful people, great music, "enthusiastic" dancing, need I say more?? Be sure to visit Micke's site tomorrow and wish him a Happy Birthday!! P.S. As you can tell, I've cheered up quite a bit since my last post. I love weekends.

Lordi!!

There were tears and gnashing of teeth at Rhino75 Towers last night and it was all because of these guys. Oh yes. Because, dear reader, this is the group that won the 2006 Eurovision Song Contest. Can you believe it? The Buffyfication of one of the major events on the camp calendar. Outrageous. I love Finland and there's a place (I'm sure) for a KISS tribute band but it's not Eurovision. And what made it worse was that this year, for the first time in AGES, there was actually a - relatively - good crop of entries. My fellow juror Micke and I, in between mouthfuls of pizza and gulps of red wine, both managed to vote for Sweden's "Invincible" performed by that fabulous old Eurovision trooper Carola. The wind machine, the trowelled make-up, the outrageous frock, the belting voice - *textbook* ESC and surely a natural winner. Russia's amazingly tacky entry also had its merits (cute guy who could jump very high) and even the U.K.'s entry wasn't that embarrassing (for once). France, however, narrowly avoided a "nul points" disaster - they did change the song from the original selection (good thing) but replaced it with, to paraphrase Mr. Wogan, the same song they've been singing since 1977 (bad thing). And the poor girl looked as if she was hating every minute and couldn't wait to get back to her hairdressing job. Anyway after such irrefutable proof that there is no Eurovision god, what could I do but head off to my friend Amy's birthday party and drown my sorrows? Until 6 a.m. this morning. Yes, I think you can imagine how great I'm feeling today. But it was worth it - great fun, loadsa booze and the opportunity to dance (well, hobble in my case) to Soft Cell's "Tainted Love".
P.S. If you're after a glimpse of life in the wings at Eurovision, I recommend you hop across to Troubled Diva's report here. Great stuff!