I have decided to invest in a fashionable pair of supportive shoes. Walking all day is too much for my blue suede Steve Madden flats. Moreover, when the wet, dreary winter sets in, I will need something hardier.  
After my job interview this morning, I dawdled through the Jewish and gay district of le Marais. Keeping an eye out for a good pair of boots and a jacket, I wandered in and out of several shops, including two resale stores which were disappointingly cluttered with old things. Though at times I was up to my elbows rummaging through skirts and scarves, I turned towards my first museum empty handed and drained. I miss Dallas consignment. 

Peter Saul Bewtiful and Stwong

Spirits rose a little as I ventured on the grand escalator, shiny student ticket in hand, towards the contemporary wing of Centre Pompidou. The architects Piano and Rogers designed the strangest building of blocks and tubes that I have ever seen. Parisians enjoy sitting in its sloping square surrounded by large white piping. I could not spend more than two hours in the musée. My feet ached, the musty, unkept stores exhausted my spirit and the works of Peter Saul and André Cadere fried my brain. When I return to Centre Pompidou, I will bring an audio guide with me.