RIVE GAUCHE, 48 RUE SAINT PLACIDE, PARIS VI
Take your time, look up, walk around
Follow us, we’ll take you along !
Get off at Sèvres-Babylone metro station, in the heart of Saint-Germain des Prés, the literary and artistic Paris.
Facing you, Le Bon Marché is for the pleasure of the eyes, only.
For those who do not know, Le Bon Marché, which is not very affordable, dates from the nineteenth century. A place that inspired Zola for her book Au bonheur des dames. After several enlargements, Le Bon Marché is today the luxury department store of the Left Wing. Obviously, it is not to spend all in these shops that we advise you to look around …;) It’s to say, throughout your walk in this mythical place, look up, and watch carefully what surround you, you will notice the architecture of the nineteenth, but also, in contrasts, the works of contemporary art. You will see paintings by Jean-Michel Alberola, Claude Viallat or Mirna Krevic.
Leaving the market, cross the rue de Sèvres, looking right and left. You arrive at the beginning of Saint-Placide Street.
But who is Saint Placide? It is true, we read, we hear street names, like that, and we do not even ask the question, or so rarely …
Saint-Placide was a discipline of Saint-Benoît, founder of the order of Saint -Benoît (or order of the Benedictines). And the abbey of Saint-Germain des Prés was a Benedictine abbey. This explains that the church of Saint-Germain is still there. You can visit it, but not now, this is not the time! Do not disperse.
Let’s go on. Now walk, but look up. At 28 rue Saint-Placide (sidewalk on the right), you will discover a pretty carved woman’s head affixed to the facade.
Further you will cross the street of Rue du cherche-midi, the street of antique shops, also surrounded with small restaurants for those looking for those seeking a bistro at 14 pm …
Cross. Continue, but not too fast, take your time. Because on the 31st, stop for a moment.
This is the house in which the writer Huysmans died. Besides, we like this extract from There:Là-bas :
“To learn, two, three years later, while the woman is inaccessible, honest, and married, out of Paris, out of France; tolearn that she loved you, whereas one would not even, when she was there, dare to believe it! It’s the dream, that! – There are only these real and intangible loves, these loves made of distant melancholy and regret that are worth! And then there is no flesh in there, no leaven of garbage! To love oneself from a distance and without hope, never to belong to oneself, to dream chastely with pale pleasures, with impossible kisses, with caresses extinguished on forgotten fronts of the dead, ah! It’s something like a delicious and irrevocable misplacement! All the rest is ignoble or empty. “But also, must life be abominable so that it is the only truly heavenly happiness, truly pure, that Heaven concedes, here below, to unbelieving souls that the eternal abjection of life destroys. »
At 33 look up again, look at this feline head, at 40 this woman’s head, at 42 this woman’s head, at 45 that roaring lion’s head, and at 48 several heads. It’s us !
Come in, take your time, look up, walk around.
We are waiting for you!