Paris, On My Own

Overlooking the Seine

I have dreamed of going to Paris since I was a little girl. I loved the idea of a city where beauty seemed to be part of everyday life: flowers spilling out of shopfronts, old buildings with impossibly lovely details, cafés where you could spend an entire afternoon doing very little. For years, Paris lived in my imagination as a place I would visit someday. This summer, I finally booked the trip. I went by myself, which made it my first time traveling internationally alone. I expected to see a city I had loved from afar. I didn’t expect to feel so completely at home in myself once I got there.

First night in Paris

Most mornings, I left the hotel with a loose plan and let the day take shape as I walked. I went to the Louvre, the Musée Rodin, L’Orangerie, and the Picasso Museum; I spent a day at Versailles wandering through the gardens and the Petit Trianon. I loved seeing the art I had traveled across an ocean to see, then stepping outside and finding just as much to admire on the way to lunch. I took photographs of old doors, iron balconies, flowers, and storefronts. I browsed vintage shops and came home with ideas for interiors (as well as a few treasures): the warmth of aged wood, a beautifully worn piece beside something polished, the way a room can feel elegant without feeling too precious to live in. Paris reminded me why I love collected spaces. Everywhere I looked, there was something with a story.

View from the second floor of the Eiffel Tower

And then there was the food. I had coffee at sidewalk cafés, wandered into pâtisseries, lingered over meals, and ordered dessert because I wanted it. Eating alone took a little getting used to at first, but after a day or so, I started to truly enjoy it. I could choose a restaurant because it looked inviting, order whatever sounded good, and stay for one more glass of wine without checking whether anyone else was ready to leave. I made time for shopping, too—vintage finds, little shops, beautiful things I didn’t need but loved looking at. Paris makes a convincing case for a little frivolity, and I let myself have it.

The Palais Royal - steps from my hotel and thus a part of my daily walk

For so many years, I felt as though I wasn’t living fully or freely. I don’t think I realized how much of myself I had been holding back until I spent a week following my own curiosity. In Paris, I went where I wanted, changed my mind when I wanted, dressed up for dinner by myself, stayed out to see the city at night, and took the long way home because the light was so beautiful. I could be thoughtful and adventurous, independent and indulgent, all in the same day. I did exactly as a pleased. Somewhere among the museums, the cafés, and all those miles of walking, I felt a version of myself come forward that had been waiting for room to breathe. I have never felt more like myself than I did there.

After dinner with a new friend

I came home with a camera roll full of art and architecture, plenty of design inspiration, and a kind of confidence I hadn’t packed. Traveling internationally alone had once seemed daunting; now I knew I could navigate an unfamiliar city and make a beautiful life for myself within it, even for just a week. This trip changed the way I see what’s possible for myself. I hope I return to Paris many times, perhaps with friends or with someone I love. But I’ll always be grateful that my first visit belonged solely to me. The little girl who dreamed of going would have loved the city. I think she would have been even happier to see how freely I lived while I was there.

Outside the Petite Trianon in the gardens of Versailles