Almost as hard as naming our children, finding a new name for my blog is how I have spent the better part of this New Year’s weekend. Since we were just the two of us at home, sans children, my husband had to be the critic, the sounding board and the creative director, while remaining gentle and patient, which neither of us are good at being, throughout the process.

Marchand de Couleurs

Ogisu Takanori “Marchand de Couleurs” Paris 1953

When I was a little girl my parents’ apartment in Paris was next to a “Marchand de Couleurs”. It was a small store principally selling paints  and varnishes, but also everything from brushes, brooms, kitchen utensils and house cleaning supplies.

I loved that place! It looked and felt like it was frozen in the time of the turn of the century when it had first opened. Even the “merchant” himself looked ancient and venerable.

I remember the smell of furniture wax, the sound of the bell as you entered the store, the dark patina of the floor to ceiling shelves against the popping colors of paint cans and cleaning products. Alibaba’s cavern!

You won’t find a real Marchand de Couleurs in France anymore. These small general stores that once were the essence of a neighborhood have vanished. They have been replaced by the modern hardware super chains near highway exits or, oddly enough, elevated to become Concept Stores for the chic and trendy fashionista.

Couleurs

Indeed colors have had a strong influence on my personality for as long as I can remember. I express my creativity through colors. The best word to describe my house, my clothes and especially my art is “colorful”. A beautiful color can stop me in my tracks anywhere I go. Colors nourish and inspire me.

And finally, it’s in French: I was born and raised in France.

Portrait du Père Tanguy, Marchand de couleurs by Vincent Van Gogh 1887

Next time I go to Paris, I’ll take a picture of the preserved façade of that old store for you.