My Hermès Paris Secrets Revealed

The magic of Paris is still fresh and with me, even as I type this. Nearly three weeks later, my mind remembers the cool wind on my face, the energy of people on the streets, and the pace of my footsteps on the beautifully lit avenues. Sparkling lights hung and stretched from building to building all the way down Saint Honoré. Cars lined the streets with the helter-skelter of people weaving their way around. Oh the magic of Paris!

Rue Saint-Honoré, Paris

This was my first trip to Europe since the pandemic made even more special because Mr. PurseBop was with me. With no serious agenda or appointments, we could set out for the day just enjoying the Parisian energy. It was a reminder of what life really is supposed to be. Of course we wore masks and avoided precarious situations. But the city was alive and energetic. And so were we!

Our adventure began nearly immediately… on our first day in Paris. By the time we settled in the hotel we barely had enough time to shower and dress for what would be one of the most exciting and eventful afternoons in Paris.

First stop was a 1pm lunch at the Hotel Costes. Always a hot spot, the restaurant was buzzing with well dressed and relaxed “beautiful people”. It’s one of the first things I typically notice in Europe – the pace just slows down. It could be just my perception but I always feel like people seem to enjoy that sip of coffee longer, the drag of their cigarette longer, savor each bite of food longer. It was a very special lunch date with a surprise guest… to be revealed in another story.

The retractable roof periodically opened and closed for the birds that had accidentally made their way into the restaurant. Everything about the lunch was just sublime.

Hotel Costes, Paris.

Our next scheduled rendez-vous was 4pm at the Hermès mothership. You can imagine my level of excitement as we strolled down Rue de Saint Honoré to the Rue de Faubourg corner. The sky was the most magnificent shade of blue with fluffy clouds floating. Crisp but not cold air circulated. Mr. PurseBop and I ambled hand-in-hand savoring every minute while absorbing every bit of scenery.

As my last time in Paris was March 2019, the pandemic provided a new and different appreciation for travel and movement. I was determined on this trip to make the most of every single minute.

Trying to stay on topic while waxing rhapsodic about Paris… I took my traditional photo to mark the timestamp of arrival. 3:40pm.

PurseBop timestamp. Hermès 24 rue du Faubourg Saint – Honoré

As excited as I was, my expectations were realistic. For most Hermès lovers, obtaining items has been a sore topic particularly in the latter part of 2021, at least in the United States. Inventory has been so scarce and limited. Disappointment was nearly inevitable.

My approach was this: Since I was fortunate to have an appointment on day 1 of my trip, I could strike it off my Paris must-do list. In theory, I could be done with Hermès (though who is ever really done with the orange mothership lol). But, it meant I didn’t have to stress over getting an appointment or admission to Hermès during the remaining days in Paris. That left me time to enjoy a romantic trip alone with Mr. PB. Whatever happened, I committed that this would be my only visit to Hermès here.

And so … Here we are at Hermès Paris, my heart racing with sheer joy. I was at the mecca of what we so proudly discuss (some would say ad nauseum) . Regardless of the (bag) outcome… I was here in PARIS at the mothership.

It felt so familiar yet so exciting if that’s even possible to understand. After entering the boutique, I made my way over the stairs that create a little bridge only to find quite a crowd of Hermès seekers swarming around the “Queen Bee”. You know who I’m talking about – the door keeper of Hermès wishes. As I waited to gain her attention, I couldn’t help but observe her. A pretty woman, with her blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail, she directed often demanding shoppers with warmth.

Once I got her attention (without interrupting) I stated my name and appointment time. She gently nudged and urged me to wait on the side for a few moments while she located someone to organize my visit. I was too excited to sit though. There was so much happening in that small space. One woman was pleading for an appointment as she didn’t get one through the appointment system. Another woman stood with her blue nuit Kelly open explaining that she actually had an appointment at the Georges V boutique but was somehow instructed to come here instead.

The air was thick with desperation, and in some cases confusion. There were but only one or two individuals trying to sort out the problems of many and get those with appointments situated. I felt compassion towards these women with their various requests because I know very well what it’s like to have a situation that needs to be heard but may not.

As I waited, I took note of how shoppers dressed and the bags they carried, trying to discern whether they were locals or tourists, and what language they spoke. My own French is weak as it’s been years since I’ve really practiced. Having grown up in Canada, French was our second language. I even took summer classes in French immersion. But over the many years it has become rusty. Yet I was amazed at just how much I could pick up just by listening.

The famous Faubourg floor.

Hermès Craie Birkin 25, one from my wishlist.

The hostess then began to cross the room. With each step closer it became more and more evident that she really was coming for us. Accompanying her was a charming woman with a very pleasant smile. I told Mr. PB to quickly stand up… That this was it. The hostess introduced the woman that would be handling our visit. And then she gracefully slipped away.

Our escort, a senior Hermès executive, began, “Madame, we will begin your visit with a tour of the garden. My fear is that if we wait much longer it will be too dark to see anything.” I quickly glanced at my watch only to realize that I had not yet set it to Paris time. Unsuccessfully searching for a clock, I recognized that the actual time didn’t matter.

I must have said something ridiculous like “oui oui, I’m so excited to see the Garden.” Not the most eloquent or elegant utterance. Have you ever had your own tongue tangled so much that you were unable to speak properly? I generally consider myself to be articulate and well-spoken but all of a sudden nothing seemed to come out as planned … not to mention the pitch of my voice was quite possibly too elated. I must point out that by this time it is now approximately 4:30pm in Paris which is about 10:30 in the morning in Chicago. And that’s all great except I didn’t sleep on the flight. So imagine staying up all night and well into the next day on pure purse adrenaline.

She asked if Mr. PurseBop would be joining us and he nodded and said “if it’s alright with you ladies…I would love to join you both.” She responded “But of course Monsieur”. Secretly I was hoping and plotting that it would be permitted.

Instructed to follow our guide, off we went In a single line past several sales associates to a back locked door.

And this is when PurseBop turned into a sponge – grabbing every bit of information and eye candy and storing it as if my life depended on it. I listened and observed, soaking in every last detail, as we made our way through some back stairs. We scooted past the kitchen where meals are prepared for special events. It was quaint with a homey feel, and you almost forgot you are at the boutique. As we walked through many hallways weaving in and out of rooms we finally reached a sort of atrium from where we could see many workshops or ateliers. I was politely asked to not take photos in this area as there were custom bags being created by the artists.

This is the only photo I am permitted to share.

The atrium at the heart of Hermès. You see the original ateliers.

Finally we arrived at the garden. Having read and heard so much about it, the garden in actuality is much smaller than I expected. On the other hand, it is chock-full of sights. I can’t quite explain how I felt. I know I wandered away from Mr. PurseBop and our guide. As I heard their voices chatting in the distance, I explored each section of the garden to each ledge and just pondered the view. The Christmas installations cluttered some areas but that made it all the more special. Every inch of the garden is so vivid in my mind. The color of the grass in mid December, the plants, and the number of pots. And in what might be the sweetest story of all, we were told of the lone apple hanging from the only surviving branch of an apple tree. Apparently the tree had fallen and died, but for one small section. It was salvaged along with its one apple. I had to photograph it for you and for me and to create that memory.

The entrance to the Hermès garden.

The senior executive, our charming guide was so patient and facilitated all my photo whims. Here she holds my birkin so I can get that perfect shot.

The holiday light installation peering up on the sides of the building.

A once in a lifetime experience.

Such a special experience… one that very few lucky ones get to experience. These were moments I was going to savor forever. Every minute etched in our minds for the rest of our lives. Our VIP guide, as I want to call her, insisted on taking some couple photos of us here. And so we posed in several different angles of the garden. It was all very gushy & bittersweet.

How special that Mr. PurseBop was with me! I was honored that he was present and included in a piece of my world. I don’t mean just physically present, I mean he really shared in the significance and joy of what was happening. Furthermore, we recognized that a very important person took the time out of her day to give us this very elaborate and heartfelt tour of Hermès Faubourg.

As we left the garden and made our way back down to the boutique, we passed a few beautiful paintings. Our VIP guide explained their significance in detail. But that’s not all…

As we turned down the second staircase we met someone so very important to this story. Her name is Yasmina Rose Margarite — and although I will share no other names throughout my story I’m hoping that this one is alright as a tribute to her dedication and passion to the mothership’s Garden. Yasmina has been the Garden caregiver for as long as anyone can remember. Her name ironically includes the names of four flowers. How literally fantastic is that? We chatted for quite some time. I loved listening to her beautiful French accent as she was chatting in broken English. Her expressions were more important than the words. I think I hugged her, despite Covid times, but it was an impulsive gesture of sheer emotion. It was the perfect ending to our Garden visit.

Once back downstairs in the boutique I asked our guide whether she would be handling my leather appointment as well. She shook her head to imply… not at all. “No madam… this is where we will part ways.” We exchanged pleasantries and farewells as I was returned to our hostess for my leather appointment.