Road Trip

After a few weeks in the city, I was eager to get out and explore the French countryside I've heard so much about. Because I used to work for a wine retailer, I still had connections (albeit friends of friends) to a few vintners in Burgundy, home to fabled producers of fine pinot noir and chardonnay. Abby and I loaded ourselves and our things into a clownishly small Renault and made a beeline for Beaune and further south to Cotes du Rhone.

Beaune has its charms, however the region – much like its wine – is austere, not terribly accessible to neophytes and requires patience to appreciate. After getting a little bored with our options we headed to a more comfortable hotel in Lyon and then to Avignon. The town of Avignon is billed as a must-see attraction. The Palace of the Popes is lovely and we had a fabulous dinner at Numero 75, but we both were longing for examples of the fine living for which Provence is known. Frankly, we weren't terribly interested in seeing another church, palace or plaza ringed by cafés.

The last day of our trip we took the Twingo out for a spin along the wine trail of Cotes du Rhone. At last, we both thought, this is what we were after… postcard views of sun-baked vineyards over rolling hills, ancient wisteria-covered stone homes sporting happy blue shutters and restaurants filled with tanned patrons clad in perfectly-pressed linen outfits in soft shades of beige and gray. After exploring several tidy medieval hilltop villages, we settled into a lunch under dappled sunlight at a charming restaurant in Gigondas. After a vegetable tart with anchovy cream and mesclun, we ate dorade with a beurre blanc over a red-wine risotto. I drank a white from the town of Sablet, Abby sipped a rosé from Gigondas. Perfection.

Bienvenue, Ralph!

Perhaps no brand's icon is as quickly and uniformly associated with "The Good Life" as the embroidered rider on his polo pony. It means wealth, leisure and Pimm's cup on the terrace in the afternoon. The story is instantly familiar: a Baruch college dropout working as a sales associate at Brooks Brothers started selling ties of his own design to downtown investment bankers. In several years he builds a multi-billion dollar fashion and retail empire. He was born Ralph Lifshitz, son of a house painter from the Bronx. You know him as Ralph Lauren.

The genius of Ralph Lauren isn't his merchandise, it's his merchandising. He has permanently changed the way we shop by building environments that sell a complete lifestyle. His creation of the Polo Mansion (aka: the Rhinelander Mansion) in 1984 on Madison and 72^nd is the most influential retail concept in the last 40 years. Here, you step into the home of some impossibly wealthy robber baron, wander the halls and acquire good taste. The formula is oft copied and Polo Ralph Lauren went on to create "mini mansions" in fashionable downtowns and tony malls throughout the world.

Today, Polo threw open the doors of its first mansion-store at 173 Boulevard Saint Germain in Paris. Yes, there is a women's store on Avenue Montaigne and his first Parisian outpost on Place de la Madeleine, but never before today has there been a Polo store in Paris which rivaled the Rhinelander. Abby and I rode our Velibs across the Seine to pay a visit this afternoon. Judging from the perfectly coiffed heads milling about us, we were joined by every doyenne in Paris for opening day. The store is laid out on five glitteringly appointed floors of palatial proportions. This isn't Hemingway's post-war Paris… this 17th century mansion is straight out of Edith Wharton.

Upstairs, a perfectly tailored salesman in a tweed jacket helped me discern the difference between two single breasted navy blazers (boring, I know – but a void in my wardrobe.) Following the Colette incident, I've been longing for black boots and thought I struck upon a compromise: a sleek pair of black chukkas that would work well with a suit or jeans (day-into-evening!) I asked a tall, handsome, square-jawed salesman if I could try them on in my size and pondered if I should also ask for his number. "These, sir, are made-to-measure." Out of my league… on both counts.

Abby and I were secretly hoping of running into Ralph, and dressed accordingly.  Regrettably, he was not in the store today. As I stood outside taking a photo of the facade, a well-tailored gentleman with a British accent cracked a joke that my photo was the only thing I'd get free from the store. Turns out I was speaking to Julian Griffiths, Senior Director of Operations for Polo Ralph Lauren in Europe – Griffiths was responsible for developing the new store. He explained that today was the culmination of a four-year labor of love - with heavy emphasis on labor. The mansion, once a grand address, had fallen into disrepair and was used for decades as a less-than-grand office building. The architects and designers had to clear away makeshift walls, rebuild the main stairwell, and completely redesign and replant the central courtyard.

The end product surpasses the Rhinelander store – the light is superior, the flow more conducive to browsing, the setting more splendid and something quite – je ne sais quoi – Parisian?

Photos courtesy of WWD Online