The Night I Fell in Love with Wine in Paris

Thirty, the city of love, and a glass that changed everything

The night I turned 30, I was in Paris, looking out my hotel window at the glittering city and thinking: this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

Blue silk in the city of love.

It wasn’t my first time in Paris, but it was the first time I truly lived the city. Perhaps because I was turning thirty, perhaps because I was with Stavros, who had given me the trip as a birthday and new chapter gift—only two weeks earlier, after months apart, we had found our way back to each other. And now here we were—beginning again, in the city of love. I remember feeling as if everything in my life had led me to this exact scene: Paris, thirty, and the man I had fallen for all over again.

We checked into Hotel Vinci Due, a little jewel in the heart of the city. Quietly sophisticated, with only 15 rooms and its own private spa, it felt like a secret Paris keeps for those who know where to look. A lovely, atypical hotel that instantly wrapped me in intimacy and charm.

As we walked to dinner, a cobalt-blue storefront caught my eye: Stouls. Bold, striking, unforgettable—just like my mood that night. In the window, the pieces in display seemed to echo the exact shade of the blue silk dress I was wearing, as if Paris were mirroring me back. I remember thinking: this is the version of myself I always imagined I would be—chic, in love, sipping wine in Paris, noticing boutiques I wanted to step into as if the whole city were mine.

Stouls, 36 rue du Mont Thabor, 75001 Paris — Parisian leather reimagined.

That night, we went to Ferdi Paris. If you’ve ever been, you know it’s not just a restaurant—it’s an atmosphere. Cozy, intimate, with the kind of energy that makes you want to stay for hours. It somehow manages to feel both like a local spot and a chic international secret. At the next table? Ben Stiller and his family. Only in Paris.

Ferdi — glowing with its own magic.

And then came the wine…

It’s not like I hadn’t had wine before.

It’s not like I hadn’t loved wine before.

Years earlier, I had already understood that wine is more than just something you drink—it’s a lifestyle, a delight, a way of moving through the world. With Stavros, it became part of our relationship too: evenings at home, him cooking, me carefully choosing the bottle. Wine was our language, our shared ritual.

But that night in Paris, wine transformed into something bigger: It became the mirror of my life… We ordered a Burgundy—red, elegant, magnetic. Light-bodied yet layered, with whispers of red berries and a mix of clove and vanilla, wrapped in a silky texture; Burgundy isn’t loud or showy, it doesn’t need to be. It’s delicate but complex, not for everyone and that’s the point. It was the first time I felt wine capture exactly how I felt.

I remember the waitress speaking about the wine with that French reverence—not just pouring, but presenting it as if it were “haute couture” itself. And I realized: I wasn’t just nodding politely anymore. I knew my regions, my grapes, the way Burgundy changes depending on its village or its soil. I could follow the conversation. I could speak the language of wine. And with that knowledge, came confidence—the kind that stays with you long after the last sip.

I looked at Stavros across the table and thought about how grateful I felt for the way my life was unfolding. Wine wasn’t just pairing with the food—it was pairing with us, with our story, with this chapter of our lives.

And giving Carrie Bradshaw her moment: I couldn’t help but wonder… had I written this into existence years ago in one of my old journals, manifesting it without even knowing?

We had a few minutes before dinner—Stavros, of course, found a bike.

That night was about more than Paris, more than love, more than turning thirty. It was about the realization that wine had become a part of who I am. Not just a passion, but a lens through which I see the world—the way I connect places, style, and relationships.

Wine. Fashion. Travel. My three great loves merging in one intoxicating evening. The Burgundy that became a love letter in a glass, the blue silk dress that made me feel unstoppable and Paris itself reminding me that sometimes dreams really do come true.

I want every woman reading this to feel it too: the thrill of being in love, the power of wearing something that makes you walk taller and the joy of raising a glass to the life you’ve built. You don’t need Paris for that feeling—but if you find yourself in Paris, order the Burgundy.

Because sometimes, it only takes one night, one dress, one sip, one kiss across the table to remind you that you are exactly where you’re meant to be.

Sip chic. Dress bold. Travel always.

— N

Ferdi Paris by day—not my photo, but I loved this shot too much not to share.