Yesterday I walked around the place Madeleine, into the church devoted to Mary Magdalene, and had macarons and café au lait on the patio outside Fauchon: the most expensive epicerie in Paris, I hear. The shop was full of exquisite, ornate, and delicate pastries; fine jams and spreads; truffles and chocolates; foie gras; expensive imported fruit; prime cuts of meat. A café au lait and three small macarons came to 8.50 euros, so I felt justified stealing a roll of their plush toilet paper from the bathroom. It was so soft; after I finished peeing I just popped it into my purse, surreptitiously.
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