Separated at birth?

Justin was my host for my trip. We met during Cal welcome week at Griffiths Hall, and spontaneously decided to go to Chinatown one day. We've had many adventures together since then, but this transatlantic one was probably the biggest. He's been there for me in my darkest times, and sometimes, I think we lead parallel lives. Even our boyfriends/husbands have a bit in common - half Mexican and into gaming. When I arrived at his flat in the Marais on Friday morning and headed for the shower, I discovered immediately that there had been no need whatsoever for me to pack any of my toiletries. Aveda Shampure shampoo: check. Aveda Shampure conditioner: check. Kiehl's Creme de Corps: check. Kiehl's Creme with Silk Groom: check. L'Occitane shea butter hand cream: check. Fresh Soy face cleanser: check. Fresh Milk SPF 6 face lotion: check. He did not have my beloved Creme de la Mer face cream ("I ran out, and haven't had time to figure out where they sell it here"), but did have the Fresh Sugar face scrub and Fresh Rose Petal facial mask that I had forgotton to pack. We had quite a laugh lining up my travel size bottles and his full size ones.

Au revoir...

3 things I missed about the States...

1. My husband. Needs no explanation.
2. Large glasses of water. There are no pint glasses in Paris.
3. Charmin. All the toilet paper is sandpaper rough.

Smoking forever...

My second day in Paris, before the Louvre, and before the Eiffel Tower, we went to the Foundation Yves St. Laurent. When the esteemed couturier retired, this "museum" opened, featuring his seminal pantsuit, le Smoking, from 1966, and its permutations. The original suit is as timeless as ever, though I was disabppointed that his Mondrian dresses were not on display. Every single couture item he ever crafed is also archived in the same building, but you must make an appointment to view them. I think you have to be a student, journalist, etc., in order to make an appointment... would my cheese diaries work cut it?