Les Français, fashion and being thin (or not)

I was talking to my boss and her boyfriend over lunch last week about an American's ideal Frenchman:  effortlessly well-dressed, scarf, cigarette, baguette in hand, with a philosophy or poetry book in his jacket pocket. Charles insisted it's not really like that, despite the fact that he pretty much looks like a Frenchman should look. He at least thinks it's a flattering image. But they just don't see it! I see plenty. Like this photo of a guy waiting for the bus:

I was surreptitious/creepy and took this while pretending to check my makeup. But doesn't he totally look like you think he would? Even his posture! Switch out the iPhone for an Anouilh novel and there ya go.

Charles and Auriane are on a quest to restore the more negative image foreigners have of Parisians — that they're rude, snobby, refuse to speak English, etc. They both speak really good English, and Charles said that when he first met Auriane she scolded him for approaching tourists who looked lost and asking if they needed help. "Do you know him? If you don't know him YOU DON'T TALK TO HIM!" she would insist. But now she's on board. And they say the tourists seem really amazed. I'm sure it's also because Charles is kind of boisterous and exaggerated in a totally nice way. And Auriane is every bit the slim, sexy French woman Brigitte Bardot would be proud to call her fellow française.

Back to the men here. A lot of American men (er, boys/guys) make fun of French men, especially the two-to-a-scooter ones, and say stuff like "they're all gay!" I always countered them (like I love to do with sweeping generalizations) and said, no, it's just they don't see physical closeness or nice clothes as something effeminate, they are secure with their sexuality, etc. But now that I'm here, sometimes I really think (not on purpose) "hmmmmwonderifhesgay" and EVERY TIME, his woman shows up, often with a stroller, and I think. Nope, just French. I feel like American men only dress like that if they are super rich or super gay or if they love France. Or any combination of those three things. But these ones aren't gay. And they're not effeminate either (since those aren't synonymous, btw), especially since French women seem to be so in touch with being feminine, so unafraid to be sexy and so unashamed of how they look. It's impressive, really.

I was particularly impressed with Auriane. She's into fashion, she's slender and very lovely. And she has taken me shopping twice during work hours in the three weeks I've been here. (I will admit my clothes are rather sad. I basically don't know how to dress myself and I have resisted buying stuff in the States so I could re-do my wardrobe here and she is loving it.) So, one thing about French women is that they don't seem to have a single, all-encompassing ideal of what's beautiful, or even the impression that there IS one kind of beauty. Each well-dressed woman I see in the Metro or on the street is confident in her unique style, chosen by her, for her body and for her own enjoyment of wearing something she likes.

When Auriane took me shopping I was really self-conscious because I am not a size 2 (far from it... what can I say? I love cheese) and I haven't seen a lot of stores here that would seem to have my size. BUT that's not true. It's a pain shopping in the US because I'm not juniors sizes, petites are too short and regulars are too tall. Plus sizes make me look like I'm drowning in fabric but regular sizes are just a tad too tight. We went to Zara (OMGILOVEZARA) and I tried on a suit jacket I'd seen and loved. The single button wouldn't button thanks to my exaggerated top half, and I motioned around my chest and said "I have problems." She very calmly and reassuringly said, "No, you don't have problems, you just need a different jacket." She wasn't scolding me or being too insistent or condescending like when people outright lie and say "You're NOT FAT." She just was totally non-judgy. But this taught me a few things. First, the JACKET didn't fit ME. It's not that I should fit into the jacket! That's backwards! This is already a striking contrast to American women's relationship with clothing. It's almost like we enjoy torturing ourselves into feeling unworthy because we don't fit into some arbitrary number. BUY CLOTHES THAT FIT YOUR BODY. BODY > CLOTHING.

Second, don't talk smack on yourself. (I was about to say, Americans are so lame that way! but that would be hypocritical.) Anyway, I get the impression, though it's unconfirmed by scientific/statistical evidence, that French women aren't nearly as self-loathing as American women. Maybe it's the Puritan thing and we're always apologizing and trying to correct ourselves, even our physical appearance which is essentially dictated largely by genetics and therefore largely unchangeable. (Of course fitness is a thing but I'll get to that.) By the by, French stores DO have bigger sizes, but service is huge here, so often they will have lots of stuff put away and will get it out for you when you ask, and they WILL find you something you like and that fits your body. For example, we went to Promod last week to find me a pullover kind of sweater and the salesgirl was amazingly helpful, made great suggestions, told me that they can order in another size and have it within two days, etc. So don't despair. You don't have to be thin or curvy or have big boobs or no boobs or hips or no hips or thick hair or straight hair or whatever to be beautiful. It's enough to be a woman. It's actually enough to be you.

Macarons are made to be eaten, people.
This one is like a chocolatey PacMan.

Third, eat your dessert. It's true I see lots of thin people here. But they eat dessert, usually two a day. (Mind, these are French portions, like an Activia yogurt or a macaron, not the wall of cake from PF Chang's or anything insane like that.) Sometimes it's a pastry and sometimes just a yogurt or something. But they let themselves end a meal with a little something sweet. No deprivation, but no over-indulgence either. I think it has something to do with the chemistry of taste and how you need all the 5 flavor types to feel satisfied, but it works. IT WORKS. I've lots like 7 pounds and I haven't had time to go running or subject myself to crunches and squats. I walk really fast, go up and down metro stairs and try to sit up straight all day. I walk to buy groceries and go ride bikes with the kids I live with. Just normal stuff. It doesn't have to be so hard! Of course the proof will be in the pudding. We'll see how I do in two more months of Camambert and jambon-beurre on baguette sandwiches. Then again, maybe it will be all the easier to slim down and enjoy my life the less I care about fitting a mold.

la touriste

Today I had planned to go to the Musée Carnavalet, which is all about the history of Paris. It's in the Marais, the oldest district in the city from which the nobility progressively distanced themselves as it got more crowded and newer places developed farther West (like the Louvre). The Marais also has some really great jewelry boutiques, and since I've realized that my style is quite lacking in those finishing touches and I got going pretty late anyway ... um, I didn't make it to the Musée! The other thing on my list was stop by the Jewish area of the Marais and enjoy one of those famous falafel takeaways, but I am dumb and I forgot it was Friday afternoon and everyone who makes a good falafel was already getting ready for the Sabbath.

So, plans changed and I had a cheese plate at some random cafe where I realized how very awkward I am when it comes to interaction with humans. It's only worse in French with the additional linguistic discomfort. What made me almost mortified was my failure to grasp all the unspoken codes like, do I seat myself at a café, or do I make eye contact and say "Bonjour!" to the owner/waiter (often the same person), or does he/she show me to a table? In this I failed. What time is it okay to start saying "Bonsoir" vs. "Bonjour"? In Guatemala the border between tardes and noches was a constant, irritating battle for me. Walking down the street right around sunset (by the way, you basically say hi to everyone there...) I would say "Buenas tardes" and someone would respond to "correct" me with "Buenas noches." I would adjust and say to the next person, "Buenas noches," and they would inevitable feel the urge to "correct" me by saying 'Buenas tardes." So this isn't a new struggle. Also, there is apparently a difference between "Bonsoir" and "Bonne soirée" which is that the first is hello and the second is goodbye. These are nuances no one thinks we need in French 101, and maybe that's true but once you're in the deep end it's a doozie. Also, I discovered today that when you want your check at the café and the guy isn't paying attention, it's not weird to go up to the register where he is engrossed in his newspaper (which is a GOOD thing, people) and give him a big fat hint. I just think he and his buddies (regulars?) who were eating there thought I was insane.

This saga continues with the delicate problem of "la bise" or the little kiss on the cheek they do here. In Guatemala it's just one and since I was on a mission, I never let guys do that and instead opted for a colder (to them) handshake. Sometimes you just have to literally strongarm them out of kissing you, actually. In France, they do two bises in Paris, and three or even four in other regions. (Aren't customs wonderfully inconstant? ...  UGH.) I still have a lot of leftover weirdness about la bise from the mission (and maybe general issues with being around men, in addition to all my natural weirdness about that.) So in short, I am never the one to start dat, even with girls who are SOOOOOO much easier to talk to. By the end of the night, even after a VERY LONG, quite intense, surprisingly weird Victor Hugo compilation performance, I did the proper leave-taking which is saying goodbye to each person individually with a handshake or des bises. *sigh* I am proud of myself for like 10 seconds.

It's funny to me when Americans say French people are rude because I know exactly why people think that, but I also know why French people think Americans are arrogant and imposing. I think French people have a perhaps inflexible form of etiquette but which makes one very attentive and respectful. Monsieur Sprenger pointed out one day that the source of that is essentially the formation of French culture by a noble class that the US never had, though there have been plenty of Gatsbys/Kennedys, etc. I would add. It's easy to forget that and judge people by your own assumptions. In fact, we do that constantly. It's natural but it's not very helpful or diplomatic a lot of the time.

I have been careful to say "Bonjour" when I walk into a store (not like FNAC or Monoprix which are sort of like Target or something but smaller boutiques and things) before I start browsing. One thing that is beautiful about France is the service is very good. People want to help you and they expect you to let them. They seem to take it very seriously and a lot of them are professional. I was AMAZED the other day when I went to buy a bra from an admittedly high-end, quality shop (because it's something I think is very much worth the money). Only one US shop -- The Full Cup in Virginia Beach -- has ever done a good job at identifying and providing my size, and even they use measuring tape. Victorias Secret is a joke. The shop in Rueil, where I am sure the woman is the owner or a total lingerie expert, took literally ONE look at me, went to the drawer and got me a bra that was an absolute perfect fit. MERVEILLEUX! I thought to myself, as I do quite often, "OMG... I LOVE FRANCE."

After the Victor Hugo thing, I was too tired to follow the young'uns to a club to dance the night away because I am totally an old lady on the inside, and was heading home when I decided on a whim to walk along the Champs Elysées and be a total tourist (but not look like one I hope) and this song OBVIOUSLY got stuck in my head as soon as I saw the sign in the metro:


I stopped at FNAC and bought a copy of Voyage au Bout de la Nuit because it's on the master's reading list, it has the awesomest title and Monsieur Sprenger thinks it is, among many others, "un chef d'oeuvre."