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...indulgent lingerie fix, go to Boutique Princesse Tam Tam (53, Rue Bonaparte), and look for late-January sales. Sunday-morning ritual? Walk and shop the thriving Marché Biologique (Boulevard Raspail, between Rue de Rennes and Rue du Cherche-Midi). Here amid the cheese and mushrooms are cashmere shawls, Panama hats and herb-infused bath salts. I never leave without buying the best latke--here it's called a galette--I ever ate: grated potato, onion and cheese all sizzled and crusty...
...Unfortunately, the museum couldn't have it all. Les Très Belles Heures de Notre-Dame (circa 1410-12) is at Paris' Bibliothèque National and is too fragile to travel, and the brothers' most famous work, Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry (circa 1411-16), is at the Musèe Condè in Chantilly, near Paris; the museum is bound by contract not to lend it out. But the Valkhof show makes up for these missing pieces in a creative way: it features an animation of two scenes, February and April, from...
...time. Unfortunately, the museum couldn't have it all. Les Très Belles Heures de Notre-Dame (circa 1410-12) is at Paris' Bibliothèque National and is too fragile to travel, and the brothers' most famous work, Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry (circa 1411-16), is at the Musée Condé in Chantilly, near Paris; the museum is bound by contract not to lend it out. But the Valkhof show makes up for these missing pieces in a creative way: it features an animation of two scenes, February and April...
...could see water moving along the ceiling as these bulges would develop,” recalled Karen C. C. Dalton, the assistant director of the W. E. B. Du Bois Institute for African and African American Research, who arrived at the scene the day after the flood to help rescue her department’s art collection...
...casino to which we were refused entry, I bade farewell to the Heineken vending machines and ceramic cows peppering Monte Carlo and accepted the hand of Owen, our captain, as he heaved me back onto the ship’s deck. We made our way back to Le Port du Crouton, a bite-sized harbor in the French Riviera town of Juan-les-Pins where I was staying for a week. I had taken a far too-short hiatus from the paling lights of Boston’s Brigham and Women’s Hospital (the site of my summer...