Long before thefrancofly had pictures, illustrations, or Paris as its backdrop, I was working as a costume production assistant in New York. Glamorous moments, yes. Knee-deep in snow in one of the brutalist winters to date, where no boots were waterproof enough, about to pass off a bowl of chili to my boss on set, Phillip Seymour Hoffman walked over and asked, “You gonna eat that?”. “No, it’s just keeping my hands warm,” I murmured bug-eyed. Completely frightened, I handed the paper bowl of chili off to Phil and I skipped away as quickly as I could. But for every moment like that, there were weeks were I was lugging around garment bags and Starbucks orders to unknown destinations in New Jersey. Nevertheless, at times like those, I was thinking fondly of Paris. But I had no idea how I would ever make it back. Or let alone, what I would ever do if so.
But what started out as a few foodie musings direct from NYC has morphed into an illustrated snapshot of my new transcontinental exploits in Paris, France. Thefrancofly has transformed into a tremendous creative outlet, reigniting my passion for both writing and illustration. With wider eyes, I am appreciating the beauty of Paris a little more every day, a city in which since most recently I only had lukewarm feelings for. And if anything else, with so many wacky transitions (the phonebook of paperwork, the sky-high price of peanut butter and low-tech downgrades), thefrancofly has become a wonderful source of catharsis, making this new world a little bit funnier and a little easier to swallow.
So dear readers, if the sentimentality has not lost you already, I just want to say thank you for joining me along the way.
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