Zen and the Art of Baguette Making

The Poolday Mystery

Week two is in the bag and I am feeling differently about this experience than I did in my earlier posts. I take back what I said about the baguette not being worth the effort. I have moved beyond the constant pain in my left hip from standing up all day, and I am not even as hungry now, (even though we still have no breaks) and have come to appreciate the zen feeling I am getting from producing these little works of temporary art. I may have drunk the Kool-aid and am on the road to true-believer status.

We made baguettes every day this week, as well as a host of other baked goods. But it is the baguette, and the daily improvement in my skill at creating it- making the dough, shaping it, letting it rise, cutting the slits at the exactly appropriate angle, and finally, overseeing the baking of it at a specific temperature, with the right amount of steam added, that produces this —dare I say, daily bread. There are so many tasks in our lives that we do in a slapdash or hurried manner, and we forget to take pride in them—even though they are important for ourselves and/or our loved ones. We take ourselves for granted and don’t appreciate what we create. LCB—even though it has so many annoying characteristics— always brings a refreshing, remembered perspective that creating something that is real and good—even if it is such a small thing—is important to our individual sense of self worth.

I was frustrated by the slow pace, and even bored with waiting for the dough to rise, and the baking to finish— and I lost sight of the purpose. The purpose is to do your best and put your heart and attention into something, so that when it is complete you feel satisfaction. I am not sure there are that many things that I do in a day that bring me satisfaction. I have lists to cross off, meetings to attend, places to be, and things that must be done— but doing them does not always translate into simple satisfaction. And that is totally on me.

I think one has to take on a task purposefully and with commitment to feel satisfaction with the outcome. I am sure that sounds dopey—it does while I am writing it. So maybe I am not expressing it correctly, but, I do believe, at the end of week two, that making a baguette is not the waste of time I said it was 10 days ago. I am getting a very positive sense of accomplishment from the process of doing this every day. Maybe it is like religion or yoga—if you really practice it—it’s not your own skill level you gain satisfaction from —it is your commitment and doing your best, that brings the fulfillment.

This is just one day’s baked goods

Other than baking on the daily, I find myself growing more and more interested in a little mystery on rue Dauphine. For some years now I have been curious about a store on the street called Poolday. As I have mentioned in the past, the main street that sides our building here in Paris is rue Dauphine, and I am sure I have also said, that if you had to live your whole life on rue Dauphine and were never permitted anywhere else— you could do it. To refresh, there is a pharmacy, tailor, nail salon, massage parlor, many restaurants, a palm reader, rug dealer, liquor store, dog groomer, clothing and jewelry stores, dry cleaner, five art galleries, four bars and yes, even a Mexican restaurant (essential to survival for all Texans) that bears the unfortunate name—”Fajitas”—which they don’t even have on the menu. However, when desperate—there are chips and some Old El Paso-type salsa.

Not my favorite but it’ll do in a pinch!

So, while rue Dauphine is mostly a completely known quantity to me in Paris—Poolday is the one place that I can’t quite figure out. Already, even in title alone, it is slightly on the strange side, no?

First, “poolday” is obviously an English word, but it is not one that makes an enticing retail name; and second, when have you ever been to or even seen a pool in Paris? It is such an odd concept that people here might be lounging around their non-existent apartment pools or non-existent public pools, that it defies logic as to why a store like this would find appeal in Paris. Even if it were called Beachday, that would make more sense- as people in Paris go on vacation and visit the beach. But, they do not hang out poolside in Paris. Additionally, the store displays quite a bit of athleisure wear which is also NOT a thing in Paris. You will see no one on the street in their tennis outfit, workout leggings or sweatsuits. It is just not considered apparel fit for public street-walking. These observations taken all together have led to the raising of my mental eyebrow concerning the true nature of “Poolday”.

The weirdness of the merchandise is the real head scratcher, however. For a few years now, since my daughter and I have been paying attention and laughing about Poolday as a concept, we have noticed that the merchandise remains the same—season in and season out, year after year. After a year or so of noticing this same merch—we began taking photos to document the fact. Every time either of us would arrive in Paris, one of the first things we would do is stroll down rue Dauphine and take a look at the window of Poolday and snap a quick pic. Originally, we would send each other the pictures with a crying laughing emoji, but after a while, we began to grow suspicious.

How, you might inquire, were we able to identify specific merchandise so easily that we knew it was the same all the time. Very simply—we identified two outfits—pink and green tracksuits which look a little like a 2000ish collab between Juicy Couture and Lilly Pulitzer. Not something that would seem to be super popular today, or really ever. And also, not popular at all in France—either by color or style. But also very distinctive.

January 2026

October 2025

April 2025

October 2024

July 2024

December 2023

These are just a few of the pictures we have archived of the pink and green tracksuits over the last two years, all in different seasons.

The questions we keep asking ourselves are many. Are they ever selling these pink and green tracksuits, or are the same ones just living in Poolday, season after season? Or— do they sell them and replace them with the exact same ones year after year? And who buys them? Not French people. Hard for me to believe any Americans either. The Italians? The Chinese? I don’t think so. Who is the customer in Paris buying pink and green tracksuits??

Which then made me start thinking a little more critically. And my VERY rusty criminal lawyer brain started whispering—maybe Poolday is just a front for some money-laundering operation and they don’t really sell anything ever and don’t care. That would explain the randomness of the merchandise and its continued sameness. And then I started thinking about the guys that hang around a few doors down at the local tabac. I have always been suspicious of these guys. Every day they pull standing tables out of the tabac, no matter what the weather, and drink beer or coffee on the sidewalk, while they smoke cigarettes and look kind of tough. The tabac has this very presumptuous name, “Les Gagnants”, in giant letters above it; which translates to “The Winners” —at which I have always snickered, as these people do not appear to be the winners of anything. The place is a little creepy, and definitely not welcoming. There is no door—just these strips of heavy duty plastic—like a carwash-that make it hard to see inside and slap you when you try to enter.

The thugs of rue Dauphine

Maybe there is a tie between the “The Winners” and Poolday. A little organized crime going on right here in the 6th. You have your money laundering front and some muscle just next door to enforce —something—whatever it is that needs enforcing in money-laundering situations. I don’t know—just speculating here. Maybe I am being a little dramatic—but you can rest assured that this is something I am lowkey keeping my eye on until they change out those outfits!

On second thought, maybe this is the part where I say this is a work of pure fiction and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is only coincidental. There, that ought to do it. Selfishly, I am thinking about the scaffolding just outside my bedroom window. Very easy access if a person were so inclined. If you don’t see me in Dallas in March—please investigate.

One could easily walk from the scaffolding right into the bedroom!