As the bell stopped ringing and I blinked to adjust my eyes, the door at the back opened narrowly and a man appeared,
![french old tiny piano french old tiny piano](https://assets.bwbx.io/images/users/iqjWHBFdfxIU/iK.YSpg6yL1k/v1/-1x-1.jpg)
Windowless dark to a small glass door through it a suffused light shone dimly into the front of the shop. Between the counter and the shelves a cramped aisle led back through the Narrow room, a counter running its length on one side and along the facing wall a row of shelves laden with bolts of crimson and bone-white felt. As I pushed the door inwards it shook a small bell secured to the top of the jamb a delicate chime rang out unevenly, breaking the silence as I swung the door closed behind me. I knocked and waited finally I tried the old wooden handle and found that the What better source for suggestions as to where I might find a good used instrument than this dusty little neighborhood parts store? It wasĪt least a plausible reason for knocking.Īnd so I found myself in front of Desforges one sunny morning in late April, after dropping off the children down the street. My opening: more settled now, I had been toying with the idea of buying a piano. Should I tell them of my lifelong love of pianos, of how I hoped to play again after many vagabond years when owning a piano was as impractical as keeping a large dog or a collection of orchids? That's where I saw What pretext could I have in a piano furnisher's when I didn't even own the instrument they repaired? I had avoided going into the shop for many weeks for the simple reason that I did not have a piano. And then I decided to find out for myself. Something new and unexpected each time, like a band of smugglers or an eccentric music school. But still my doubt edged into curiosity I saw myself opening the door to the shop and finding Surely there were enough pianos in Paris to sustain a trade in their parts. After all, this was but one more highly specialized store in aĬity known for its specialties and refinements. Once I saw it as a riddle, it filled the few minutes left to me on those quiet mornings when I would walk past the shop, alone and wondering. Known repairs to be done on site the bother and expense of moving pianos was prohibitive, to say nothing of the problem of storing them. Did pianos need to be brought to the shop to be repaired? Elsewhere I had always Repair tools? Often a small truck was pulled up at the curb with pianos being loaded or unloaded and trundled into the shop on a handcart. Was it possible that an entire business was maintained selling piano parts and Quiet quartier, far from the conservatories or concert halls and their related music stores that sprinkle a select few neighborhoods. Something seemed out of place about this specialty store in our In these moments, stopping in front of the strange little store front, I would consider the assortment of objects haphazardly displayed there. I would buy a baguette for lunch and, if I could spare ten minutes before getting to work, treat myself to a second cup of coffee at the café across the street from the piano shop. The smell from la boulangerie du coin, the local bakery, always greeted me as I turned the corner, the essence of freshly baked bread never failing to fill me with desire and expectation. Invariably ran high in the gutters, the daily tide set forth by the street sweepers who, rain or shine, open special valves set into the curb and then channel the flow of jetsam with rolled-up scraps of carpet as they swish In the early morning a fresh stream of water The quiet street was still out-of-the-way and narrow enough to be paved with the cobblestones that on larger avenues in the city have been covered with macadam. My steps, savoring the sense of promise and early morning calm that at this hour envelops Paris. After exchanging a few words with other parents, I would often take an extra ten minutes to retrace On the way to their classes in the morning there was never time to stop. Not so many years ago when our children were in kindergarten, this shop lay along their route to school, and I passed it on foot several times on the days when it was my turn to take them to school and to
![french old tiny piano french old tiny piano](https://www.janod.com/8614-large_default/my-first-electronic-piano-confetti-wood.jpg)
The entire facade has a sleepy, nineteenth-century charm about it, the window frame and the narrow door Behind the shelf the interior of the shop is hidden by a curtain of heavy white gauze. On a small, red felt-covered shelf in the window are displayed the tools and instruments of piano repair: tightening wrenches, tuning pins, piano wire, several swatches of felt and various small pieces of hardwareįrom the innards of a piano. Discovering a Forgotten Passion in a Paris AtelierĪlong a narrow street in the Paris neighborhood where I live sits a little store front with a simple sign stencilled on the window: ` Desforges