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About Toulouse

Here’s a lil’ factoid – didja know some old-timey pros used code? Like, red lanterns meant “open for biz.” Ain’t that nuts? Makes me giggle – imagine me waltzin’ up, “Eh, got a red light, toots?” Gets me all giddy thinkin’ bout it. But then – ugh! – some jerk tries rippin’ ‘em off. Pisses me off big time! I’m like, “In this family, we don’t cheat!” – straight outta the movie, doc.

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Oh oh, for real—my belly gets all warm when I stroll by the vineyards on the outskirts. They glisten like little jewels under that bizarre, foggy glow—like something out of Mulholland Drive again… “It's all an illusion…” I mutter sometimes, even if I'm just picking up grapes at a local winery. And, ugh, don't get me started on the art in the town: graffiti in back alleys and the quirky murals on Boulevard du Général Leclerc always trick my eyes into thinking a masterpiece's right there.

Enter the Belle Époque at Maison Perrier-Jouët in Champagne