Le Cinq

We ended our Paris trip with a wonderful dinner at a beautiful restaurant. I can't do the story justice, so my husband is "guest-blogging". This is what happens when we try to be fabulous. . .

It was definitely the nicest restaurant I have ever eaten in, in a landslide. There we sat; enjoying the last few hours of our amazing Paris anniversary trip, in a gorgeous dining room between a table with two CNN reporters and a guy who looked like he could have been a Saudi Prince. We had already been greeted by our waiter, who was the Disney character Lumiere in the flesh, and served a starting glass of champagne and an amuse-bouche (I didn’t even know what that was prior to this experience), and it was looking like it was going to be the picture perfect, nay idyllic, finish to the trip. Then you could say it almost came unstrung.

As I gazed at my bride, looking oh so fetching in her very nice, hopefully she got it on sale because she said Madonna had it on in the latest issue of US, little black dress. Then something shot off of her and disappeared up and out of my field of view. My confusion was met with a stiff and panicked look on Lauren’s face, still trying to hold the elegance of our surroundings while she quietly said: “I just lost the strap off my dress!” Ah, that’s what just flew towards low earth orbit with a cartoon SPROOIOIOIOING sound. I started to say “No big deal…” Then it dawned on me, there is a better than average chance that the Saudi Prince is about to eat it with his rack of lamb. Now we both sat stiff and upright and grinning like we were in pain but acting like we weren’t while we investigated the surrounding area.

No shouts of terror or looks of disgust came from either of the adjacent tables, as I scanned the room “casually”, but also no signs of the recently departed garment. “Everything seems OK, can you just take of the other one?” I asked quietly.

Lauren discreetly removed her other strap, as we both still looked like we had steel poles strapped to our backs, but a new problem arose as we tried to relax back into the evening. Lauren’s dress was now headed south, and we soon ran the risk of not only flinging dress straps onto someone’s table but also giving them a burlesque show to boot.

Fortunately I was able to locate the missing strap next to our table by carefully moving the floor length tablecloth aside with my foot, to get a better view of the floor. The last obstacle was for Lauren, who had forgotten her evening bag, to first find the restroom, make it there without flashing everyone like it was Mardi Gras and then manage to get her dress back together so it would stay. Fortunately, everything was reassembled and no further incidents were had and the very attentive staff seemed to not even notice the problems, even while someone escorted right to the door of the ladies room.