A nineteenth-century poet once described the Place Dauphine as the ‘vagina of Paris’, because of its erotic triangular V shape. Rumour has it King Henri IV modelled the place after the private parts of his favourite courtesan. Ah, French romance. Vaginas aside, it is one of my favourite squares in Paris, tucked away on an island in the middle of the Seine, unique for its sandy gravel square à la Provencale, where locals playing pétanques in the summer with some of Paris’s most beautiful townhouses in the background. It is where I’m currently spending my weekend, writing this to you in between glances at the view over the snowy rooftops from my little Paris attic.