The year was 1963. I was young and in love with all things Parisian—the streets, the people, the cats, the dogs… and, of course, Art.

I happened to luck into the most fabulous little pad just off the famed Place Furstenberg. In fact you can see my front door if you look at my splash page and follow the left hand sidewalk to its very end. There you will see a black doorway with its rounded top.

I arrived on October 5 and was met with the news that my beloved Edith Piaf had just died. But my sadness was tinged with excitement at finally being in my spiritual home.

“Eblouie”, is the French name for what I felt when I received my student card from the Sorbonne. In French the word means dazzled or resplendent. I think of it meaning ‘all lit up’. Same thing.

There I was in the amphitheatre of the lecture hall, enraptured by the words of the professor du jour, sitting cheek to jowl with Danish royalty and preppies from all over the world.

In fact, I felt as if I had just stumbled into this world of privilege, as if I were an Alice in Wonderland.

After all I had done nothing to secure the most desirable apartment in all of Paris and here I was taking notes right next to Princess Margrethe.

My blog: My Paris, will share with you my experiences from that amazing time, and that magical place.