Opéra Garnier as Rarely Seen

Dear Billie,

I’m writing you this letter with the most Parisian view you can imagine. Hazel’s apartment overlooks the Seine, and with today’s snowstorm, the rooftops look like someone dusted glitter all over the city. It’s the first time I’ve had a quiet moment since I landed. A full week has flown by, and my head is still spinning.

First things first, thank you. No, really, thank you. For Hazel*. For the airport send-off. For slipping that little French phrasebook into my coat pocket. Turns out, I needed it more than I thought. My high school French is rustier than I care to admit. I should’ve listened to Miss Blanchard instead of doodling camera sketches in the margins.

But I’m getting by. Hazel’s been nothing short of a miracle. Warm, generous, full of stories, records, and laughter. She welcomed me like a long-lost sister. The apartment is buzzing most evenings. Writers, painters, musicians drifting in and out like it’s nothing. Everyone talks fast and smokes even faster. I’ve started carrying a little notebook everywhere just to keep up.

Yesterday, I wandered out with no real plan. I was just following the curve of the Seine, getting lost at the newspaper stalls when I found the Opéra de Paris. Billie, you would’ve swooned. I stood in front of it for the longest time. This grand, dramatic façade, straight out of a dream. Do you remember three years ago, when you and I went to hear Marian Anderson** at the Met? That’s exactly what came to mind.

I’ve been thinking about that long conversation we had on the way to the airport. About your voice. About Hazel. About Sarah Vaughan***. And how you wondered if you’d ever find your place in the jazz scene. So let me tell you about someone I just learned about... Charles Garnier, the architect behind the Opéra de Paris.

When they launched a competition to design the building in the 1860s, he wasn’t the obvious choice. He was young, relatively unknown, and not nearly as celebrated as the other architects. But Napoleon III chose his vision. And for fifteen years, Garnier poured everything he had into that building. He imagined it, sketched it, revised it and made it into something unforgettable.

So if you ever doubt your place in music, just remember… even the world’s most iconic opera house was once just a dream in the hands of someone just starting out.

I wish you were here. Paris would suit you so well. Hazel and I keep saying so.
In the meantime, I’m sending you a photo of the Opéra de Paris, back when it was still being built around 1880. I think you’ll love it.

I know we’ve had this talk before, but please... just visit. It would mean the world.

More soon,