Becoming a Parisian

I’ll give you just a minute to stop laughing. There really is no such thing as becoming Parisian.  This city’s initiation process would make the worst frat-boy hazing seem innocuous. If you were not born here, you will never be Parisian. But…that doesn’t stop the effort.

What can be more Parisian than a beautiful man in a Paris apartment a full 77 steps from the ground with no lift, drinking an espresso and wearing a perfectly positioned scarf?  Nothing.

Then there’s shopping at the BHV in the Marais.  Stands for Bazaar Hotel de Ville but I think of it as “Blazing Hot de Ville” because the air is stifling inside. To help me make my case on just how Parisian we’ve become, please know that the picture here is of an extreme examination of a coffee press which did not get purchased but was under consideration.  Know, too, that what was purchased was some bubble wrap and postage tape from the basement’s hardware store. I can promise you no tourists were in line at this particular caisse (cash desk).


The once mystifying metros have become easy. You can overhear us talking about taking the number 6 line because it runs into the number 10 line and at least on number 6 you get to ride above ground for a bit.

The one thing that still confuses me–though I’m forced to conform–is that floor at Gallieries Lafayette labeled “Seduction Fashion”. I’ve gone ahead and purchased some clothes from this floor and I wear them…in public. Because, this is seduction fashion:

I don’t, however wear or purchase anything from the first floor. It is called “Creative Fashion”. There they sell Prada and Gucci and a number of other exclusive lines. Best I can tell, the “creative” part is trying to figure out how to pay for it.

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