Because I can no longer seek out satisfaction and pleasure in food, eating just being too painful, meal times threaten to be depressing affairs. My solution? To transfer the pleasure of the tongue into the pleasure of the eye.
While in Paris, I spent some time with the porcelain at Hermès Faubourg St-Honoré. I was seeking a small bowl from which to eat my fromage blanc or other soft foods, and I needed it to be that mythical Goldilocks size since I eat ridiculously small portions. The gentleman helping me brought out everything he could imagine enticing me from both the Cheval d’Orient and Balcon services. In the end, the soup bowl (the smallest in either line-up) fit in my hand perfectly.
I took back to New York one Cheval d’Orient bowl for my apartment. And two soup bowls of the Balcon pattern for my boyfriend’s apartment.
I’ve had them for a month now, and I can say readily that they may be among my very favorite Hermès treats across these collecting years. I use them every single day, multiple times a day, and they bring pleasure to eating, which isn’t very interesting or pleasurable by itself. That might be a definition of the art of living. Life isn’t always exquisite—but likely as not, there’s a way of making the unappealing beautiful, the sad marvelous, and the depressing joyful. We just have to figure out how to transform it so.
Thank you very much, everyone, for your supportive comments and private messages upon my previous post. Your words have meant a lot. xo