“I keep forgetting to tell you,” Murray says non-chalant-ly one night. Turns out he saw a major French movie star picking up his daughter at school and jumping into a black van. I’ll call him Monsieur C. We even saw his latest film on the plane to Paris. I eagerly sign up for parent/teacher night.
The next week on Wednesday, Emmanuelle casually mentions that she is invited to his daughter’s birthday party, in a night club in St. Germain De Près. They have invited the entire school! No pressure. So what type of birthday present does one buy for the daughter of two movie stars? (Her mother is an Italian-born model/actress and Bond girl). We settle on an Instax Mini camera with polka dot polaroid film. What tween doesn’t like pictures with her friends?
The party starts at 3p.m. and once we get past the doormen at the unmarked door, it’s two flights down into a cavernous, dark, pulsing room with disco lights and several bars. Her mother is twirling on the dancefloor in a floor length gypsy skirt so we know we are in the right place. The girls have an amazing time and the camera is a hit. For my part, I get a few hours to wander around the 6th Arrondissement and have a relaxing glass of wine at Le Comptoir. As I am walking back to the nightclub I hear a familiar voice behind me. I turn, and riding by me on a portable bike in the early evening sun, is Owen Wilson. We make eye contact, and he says hi. I have just had my Midnight in Paris moment.