Fezzik In Paris

Two Americans, three cats, and too many places named "de Gaulle"

It will come as a surprise to precisely nobody that The List remained untouched this past weekend; while six weekends might not be statistically significant from a trend standpoint (then again, given the data set…), we have been lousy followers of The Calendar (read: The List, evolved).

That said, Saturday was spent gathering materials of a last-minute nature.

Monday evening saw us return to Versailles yet again, though this time was a touch different; not only was Versailles closed, we were in “quality baroque costumes” (as evidenced by the deposit; 1700€ between the two of us) for the fêtes galantes, otherwise known as a-bunch-of-adults-dress-up-like-Louis-XIV-era-French-aristocracy-and-run-around-le-château-de-versailles.

We had quite a bit of fun.

While the original plan entailed getting ready at home (clothing of the time period: very heavy), heading over to Versailles via the RER C, partying, and then heading back home, we modified the plan such that we grabbed a hotel room in the vicinity of the château. Our plans to ride the train over there were further modified when we cemented our status as rain totems (it has begun flooding in Paris while it continues to flood in Texas). Thus we climbed into the Uber with an unholy number of (heavy) bags and proceeded to check into the hotel, which is where we ended up readying ourselves for the fête.

The actual party was a whirlwind.


  • wandered;
  • laughed at the lower-quality costumes and the modern Mesdames du Barry;
  • learned how to contredance (I’m still counting to eight in my head);
  • took a tour through the courtesan’s quarters (hint: the king’s bedroom has direct access via a hallway);
  • lamented the lack of macarron towers;
  • saw a not-insignifcnat number of wardrobe malfunctions (I am a damn fine lacer of corsets, thank you very much);
  • listened to an aria in les salles des gardes du Roi;
  • were tossed around in the sea of people contredancing during the closing ball;
  • watched fireworks through the windows of the galerie du glace;
  • and ultimately retunred to the hotel and ordered the worst room service that either of us have ever had.

Food was the sole disappointment of the evening; while our tickets said unlimited champagne and access to the buffet, and the champagne proved to be indeed unlimited, the buffet was limited to lousy apéros, and there was not a macarron to be seen (food-wise, I was expecting at least a roasted chicken and maybe pheasant). We largely abandoned our original champagne consumption plan, though it was actually quite good (Deutz, to their credit), due to our mostly-empty stomachs.

I would undoubtedly shave my legs, wear tights, grow a beard, shave said beard (I needed the louis xiv moustache), wear makeup, and slog to the château in the rain again.

I would just make sure to eat right before we arrived.

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