STRASBOURG: The City That Sang To Me.
- A Love song in pastel colors
Strasbourg is not just a city.
It sings a quiet, soft love song, whispering between worlds — a melody offered to anyone willing to listen.
It’s a city where France and Germany meet, to become one. Both languages entwined like a boat dressed with leaves by the edge of a sunlit beach.
Medieval timber frames lean toward each other like old best friends.
Canals reflect the beauty of rose-colored houses, as if watercolor paintings had come to life.
It’s a city that sees and believes in beauty, mirroring it, making you want to meet it halfway with your fashion. A city that isn’t loud but tender, its details touching your heart softly, making you feel alive.
It wears its heart on its walls. It doesn’t hide its soul. It paints it — in pastel pink, butter yellow, sky blue, mint green, cinnamon brown, crisp white —
It is a dream. A dream I wished I didn’t have to wake up from so soon. A dreamy city where soft life is their lifestyle.
La Petite France 💛
The part of the city that touched me the most was la petite France. The Heart and the most famous part of Strasbourg —
This beautiful place feels like a village inside a city, where time slows, and you can almost hear the rustle of silk from centuries ago.
Every building looks like it stepped out of a storybook.
Narrow canals carry passengers who see the city with twinkling eyes because they feel it touch their hearts tenderly like it touched mine.
Half-timbered houses with steep roofs and flower boxes spilling over with pink and red,
Wooden signs swaying in the wind, shaped like old apothecary bottles or swans,
Cobblestones — some digging through your shoes, reaching your feet as you walk, reminding you they’ve been here for centuries.
La Petite France was once the tanners’ quarter — not glamorous, perhaps, but that history is part of its soul.
But with time, the city softened its edges, turned utility into beauty.
There’s something very feminine about this place — not in terms of gender, but in energy, in feeling.
It is delicate, subtle, gentle, there which out shouting that it exists.
As I walked through La Petite France, listened to it sing its love song to me —
I realized that it isn’t just beautiful. It’s dressed beautifully. Its walls wearing stripes, textures, layers —
just like we do.
And I suddenly, I understood:
I wasn’t just visiting Strasbourg.
I was harmonizing with it. Singing the same song that says we are alike. Tender, sweet, soft, creative and colorful.
~~~
I wore a striped beige-and-white top, flared like a page turning in the wind, accompanied with a wavy-edged skirt, soft and rippling like canal water.
A white bag and brown, black, grey, and golden sandals that mimicked the cobblestones.
And to top it off, white hair clip and hair band that reflects that purity.
I felt like I was rhyming with the city.
~~~
1. Love, Locked in Red
By the canal, I found multiple bridges wrapped in red padlocks —
Small heart shaped promises left by lovers, clicking in the breeze like heartbeats.
It made me think.
Love doesn’t have to be loud to be heard. It is real.
It can be quiet. Small. Held in memory.
So — I imagined an outfit for quiet love:
A pink silk skirt — soft as a first kiss.
Olive green top — calm, steady, growing.
White sandals — barefoot on stone, but still elegant.
A delicate gold necklace — like a single thread of devotion.
Because love isn’t always red roses.
Sometimes, it’s a whisper in pastel.
~~~
2. The Art of the Unplanned
I hope to see art when I’m traveling because I’m an artist, and I also enjoy admiring the artwork of others. As I wandered into the market near the city center, I found what I was hoping for.
Vintage chairs with peeling paint,
Old books with cracked spines,
Handmade ceramics that looked like they’d been kissed by time.
And I saw a building — a building where green leaves sprouted from the roof,
and golden letters curled across the top,
like the city was writing poetry in sunlight.
It reminded me:
Beauty doesn’t need permission.
It grows where it’s loved.
So I dreamed up an outfit for the art of becoming:
Blue striped wide-leg pants — like brushstrokes on canvas
A crisp white blouse — for paint smudges and poetry stains
Brown leather loafers — made for wandering
A vintage brooch — shaped like a bird, because art should fly
~~~
3. The Man and the Bike.
Admiring the canal —
A man holding a child’s bike, small and bright. I imagined his story.
He was only standing there but his stance told his story. A quiet one that an artist like me enjoyed —
As he stood there I thought —
He is part of this moment in time. Our timelines entwined for just a few minutes — and isn’t this what life is meant to be?
This is the tenderness of life…
Present in our memory forever.
So I imagined an outfit for gentle, quiet care, everyday love:
Beige linen set — top and wide pants, soft and breathable
White sneakers — for chasing tiny feet
A canvas tote — holding snacks, toys, tiny socks
A striped scarf in pastel yellow — because joy is small and bright
Because fashion isn’t just for runways.
It’s for creating a moment by the water.
~~~
4. Jazz, in One Note.
Just like the man by the canal. People are at the right place the right time to create a story and I feel blessed to be part of it.
In a corner there sat a man playing saxophone, alone, stuck in the moment, the city like we all did.
He played a melody that traveled through the alley like perfume. Like a meal your grandmother would cook —
The smell inviting, the taste leaving memories that would never fade.
With his consent he allowed me to take a picture of him.
Because he was happy to be heard.
And I thought:
This is why we create.
Not for fame.
Not for likes.
But so someone might pause —
and feel less alone and be part of the light.
My heart recognized it.
Because I speak the same language.
~~~
It is just like fashion. Isn’t it?
Crafted with the heart…
and a joyful surprise to others.
Strasbourg showed me its heart and sang me its song and I sang back, harmonizing with it. Because we were both similar in so many ways. Now I travel with a piece of it in my chest. Still hearing its melody echo in my heart.
Strasbourg didn’t just show me its beauty.
It showed me its heart.
It sang to me —
not in words,
but in pastel-colored houses,
in flowers falling over its balcony,
in the click of red love locks on the canal,
in the way a saxophonist played with quiet ardor.
And I sang back.
Not with voice,
but with what I wore.
A striped beige-and-white top,
flared like a page turning in the wind.
A wavy-edged skirt,
soft and rippling like canal water.
Sandals that mimicked the cobblestones.
A white hair clip —
pure,
quiet,
holy.
We were not so different,
Strasbourg and I.
Both tender.
Both golden.
Both believing in softness.
And now —
I travel with a piece of it in my chest.
Not in a photo,
not in a memory —
but in my soul.
I still hear its melody.
Not in my ears,
but in my breath.
In my silence.
In the way I see and wear color.
And if you listen closely —
you’ll hear it too.
- The love song of a city that still believes in wonder.
- And the girl who sang back in stripes and light.
Thank you so much for reading and for your support.
Yours truly,
Dgoldenblossom 🌸
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