When I miss Paris so much it hurts . . . .
I dial a friend on my portable, pop on my moto, dab on some rouge à lèvres and hightail it to Le Figaro before happy hour ends! This bistrot-café is straight out of gai Pareeeeeee. Le Fig's opulent simplicity (which is totally ironic, I know) perfectly emulates the sentiments of Paris. Tables spill onto the street. From the looks of the clientele you cannot tell if it is time for an espresso and a croissant with a dose of the morning news (printed of course, the French actually read print), or time for an apéritif and a cigarette. Either way, Paris je t'aime.