The warm scents of freshly made croissants waft through the French café, counteracting the chilly weather outside.
It’s extremely damp and chilly today, especially after the pleasant, warm and sunny weather West Chester experienced yesterday. As I walk to La Baguette Magique at 202 West Market Street, this is accentuated. There’s hardly anyone outside at 11:30am, and the windy, spritzing weather makes me long for this French café.
When I arrive, I’m one of two customers. The barista at the counter greets me with “bonjour!” She’s wearing a white apron and hat, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She smiles at me.
Being the cultured person that I am, I unthinkingly responded with an English, “hi!”
After I ordered a cappuccino for $3 and a plain croissant for $2.50, I hear the barista call, “à bientôt!” or “see you later!” at the customer who’s leaving. Now, I sit alone at a thin, wooden table facing a large window that shows me a view of the West Market Street. Soft gray light shines through, illuminating the café. It’s warm and comfortable in here, so it seems strange that an older gentleman is hunched over in a black trench coat bracing in the wind, and a young woman in a black raincoat is hurriedly walking her brown and white French bulldog puppy.
At this window, sipping my cappuccino that’s naturally sweet and delicious, and eating my buttery and flaky croissant, it’s easy to people-watch. Whether it’s that young man in the brown tie walking with determination, a roll of computer papers in his left hand, or two women casually strolling in their raincoats, there’s life in this town.
Dim, twinkling fairy lights adorn the large window I’m looking out of, and I can read the red text, “Patisserie Artisanale,” which appear backwards on the glass.
An older woman enters the café and sits on my right at the table next to mine. She is very well-kempt: her short, silver hair styled primly, makeup done professionally, and multi-colored fashion scarf offering a nice contrast to her black, winter coat. French music plays at a low volume — first, it is a woman singing with trumpets, then it is a man accompanied by violins.
The woman to my right sees a woman through the window in a beige raincoat. They make eye contact, and the woman in beige smiles like she’s seeing an old friend. Which is what happened.
The woman in beige enters and the woman in black stands and greets her. They each order cups of soup that come in French Onion-esque bowls, and brioches.
Their friendship seems just as warm as the café itself.
And it seems to me that La Baguette is like a French haven in this West Chester metropolis.
I instantly regret leaving La Baguette, as the harsh, damp air popped the comfortable bubble that I was in, cold winds and drizzles soaking my coat. I want to keep eating and relaxing in the café, but I must move on. I button my red coat, open my rainbow umbrella, and join the lunch rush crowd of people hurrying in the streets.
It’s a good day.
