USEFUL TIP: The cut of your jeans will tell much about your sexual orientations and availability. Be cautious.
SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Faut qu’j’m’achète un jean. (“I need to buy some jeans.”)
Berthillon
The best ice cream in the world is made in Paris. Of course.
And it can be found at Berthillon. Parisians of all social classes know about Berthillon. Parisians of all social classes have tasted Berthillon.
Berthillon is one of the rare forms of luxury all Parisians can afford.
The beauty of Berthillon lies in the outstanding quality of its glaces et sorbets. But the Berthillon experience goes beyond the tasty delights they offer.
The Berthillon experience starts with a line. There is no touching a Berthillon cône glacé without standing in line for at least a few seconds or a few minutes. The line gives the Parisian the occasion to choose the flavors and the number of boules. One is usual. Two is for les gourmands.
Anything beyond two is for les Américains.
Once served, it is usual for the Parisian to go for a little stroll on l’Ile Saint-Louis with his glace. The Parisian will systematically ask his co-Berthilloner, C’est bon? His is always super bon.
The Berthillon experience is vastly enhanced by the localization of Berthillon shops and resellers—exclusively on l’Ile Saint-Louis. Tasting a glace Berthillon is the only time the Parisian is happy to behave exactly like a tourist. Outside of that occurrence, it is a disgrace.
There is a form of pride in having Berthillon. Buying a glace Berthillon makes you all at once very gourmet, very distinguished, very in the know, very old school, and very rich. Every time he stops at Berthillon for ice cream, the Parisian will tell all the people he meets for the rest of the week. On s’est arrêtés chez Berthillon. Perfect name-dropping.
The other Parisians will be jealous: Berthillon is the gift that keeps giving.
With the surge over the past decades of American and Italian ice cream chains, Berthillon has a lot of competition.
By opting for a small family-owned business that has never branched out or started selling ice cream in supermarkets or overseas, Parisians unconsciously know that by buying des glaces Berthillon, they do more than just treat themselves with a petit plaisir: they support a certain form of civilization. A certain idea of the world. A certain idea of Paris.
USEFUL TIP: Come at night: Berthillon, Notre Dame, and l’Ile Saint-Louis under the Parisian skies are an irresistible combination.
SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Berthillon?! Eh bah ça, va, tu te fais plaisir! (“Berthillon?! Look at you, Mr. Gourmet!”)
Roland Garros
All Parisians love Roland Garros.
Not the man—the tennis tournament. Known overseas as the French Open. Roland Garros is all good news for Parisians.
First, it means spring has arrived. Roland Garros is the official kick-off of the best months of the year. The French Open is allegedly a tennis tournament. Truth be told, it is Paris’s prime solarium. Parisians go to Roland Garros first and foremost to sunbathe.
Besides its tanning function, Roland Garros is one of the greatest social events in Paris. The beauty of Roland Garros lies in the fact that it is both completely exclusive and completely open. Whether one partakes in the exclusive or in the generic experience, he can still brag with his friends: J’étais à Roland Garros hier. The evocation of Roland Garros comes with a beautiful touch of glamour and Parisian elegance. VIPs and corporate guests are allowed inside le Village. The plebe will stick to les Allées. Corporate snobs only spend two or three hours à Roland. A sunny and extended lunch break.
Once seated in le Central, Parisians’ attention is hardly focused on tennis. Sure, they need to keep track of the score for future reference, but the real quest is to spot celebrities. Parisians find quite sweet the feeling of casually sharing hobbies and experiences with celebrities.
One of the things Parisians love about Roland Garros is that it’s situated on the outskirts of Paris in the beautiful Bois de Boulogne. Meaning, as opposed to many other sporting events, it does not screw up their lives by worsening traffic. There is really nothing bad about Roland Garros.
In late May, Paris is split into two categories of people: those who have tickets for la finale, and everyone else. The first type is considered salauds by the second. The ticket possessors secretly agree and giggle in petto: they made it in life.
When going to Roland Garros, it is acceptable for Parisians to buy a souvenir. T-shirts or towels are the most frequent choice. Tennis balls are also OK. While buying a branded souvenir from any other place they visit would be considered outrageously beauf, it is absolutely OK with Roland Garros gear. So is buying ice cream to enjoy while watching the games. Even for Parisian women . . .
Spring’s high mass finally allows pleasure. Everything suddenly seems to become possible, passed the périphérique.
USEFUL TIP: Bring sunscreen.
SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Tu vas à Roland Garros? Oooh, trop d’la chance. (“You’re going to Roland Garros? Oooh, so lucky!”)
Old Friends
Parisians are happy with their friends.
They do not need new friends.
By the age of twenty-three, Parisians have found all their friends for life.
Parisians have three groups of friends: childhood friends, friends from high school, and friends from college. Add a handful of friends they met on vacations and the one or two remaining from the countless hours they spent as kids at sports or music practice and you’ll have it all. Among these, the actual main group of friends is the college friends. Other friends are kind of a chore to see.
It is important to realize that most Parisians are tired of most of their friends. Hence, a natural defiance against new friends. They will probably be tired of them soon as well. Why bother?
Newcomers to Paris can therefore only befriend Parisians of age twenty-three and under. If aiming older, only provinciaux and foreigners will be available. The only way to make Parisian friends is to start a relationship with a person that has befriended Parisians when they were younger than twenty-three. This will grant you the honor of their company.
When entering this prestigious circle, you will be a disruptive element in a group that has most likely been static for several years. This will be the source of much jealousy, drama, and talking. Excessive friendliness will be considered obscene flirtation. Be prepared to be hated by people of your gender or loved by people from the other. That is the rule of new interactions with Parisians.
Old friends give Parisians a strong sense of grounding that they feel urban life deprived them of. Sticking to their friends also gives Parisians a real sense of comfort. By knowing their friends inside and out, they infer that they know the world inside and out. Given such striking deductive talent, no one can really blame Parisians for their shortcomings, when it comes to adding new friends to their life.
USEFUL TIP: Don’t bother! Provinciaux tend to be more fun anyway.
SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Je dîne avec Guillaume jeudi. Pff, ca me saoule, mais j’ai déjà annulé deux fois, il faut vraiment qu’j’y aille. (“I’m eating with Guillaume on Thursday. I really don’t want to go but I already canceled on him twice before, so I really have to.”)
Seine River Cruises
Parisians are dreamers. La Seine is their ocean.
Seine River cruises are their odyssey.
Parisians have a deep love for the Seine. Love in Paris is tender but fierce, therefore all Parisians find the Seine both incredibly beautiful and completely dégueulasse.
Criticism never hurts. Especially a river.
A Seine River cruise is an emotionally loaded moment for every Parisian. It brings back childhood memories of the usual sortie de classe on the Bateaux-Mouches (yes, the Parisian was once a child). Memories of his teen years when bringing his provincial cousin on a Seine River cruise was the worst imaginable chore. Memories of his student years when he g
rasped that the beauty of his city was his major asset to ever seal his romantic endeavors and finally discover physical pleasures (true, the Parisian is no early bloomer). Seine River cruises are always striking moments in the life of the Parisian.
Yet, Seine River cruises are one of these things the Parisian likes without knowing or admitting he does. The only thing the Parisian is able to say when hearing the phrase “Croisière sur la Seine” is “C’est un truc de touristes.”
Nothing is more degrading for the Parisian than doing des trucs de touristes. But the Parisian has a good heart. So one day, as a grown-up, he will take his Spanish friends, his children, his clients, or his mistress on a cruise along the Seine.
While on the boat, the Parisian will always stand outside—with his collar popped. Inside is for suckers. The Parisian likes to feel the wind, the sun, the brutality of the elements whipping his face.
The Seine becomes his Bermuda Triangle.
Such is the Parisian, fearless and adventurous.
USEFUL TIP: To spot the Parisians on a Seine River cruise, just look for people wearing sailing jackets.
SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: J’ai fait une croisière sur la Seine l’autre jour. Il f’sait hyper beau—c’était hyper sympa. (“I took a cruise on the Seine the other day. It was beautiful out—really good fun.”)
Wearing Black
Paris is the city of fashion. Especially if fashion consists of wearing black. Parisians love to wear black: black pants, black shoes, black coats, you name it.
Parisian women are especially fond of black clothes. It is well known that le noir, ça mincit. Parisian women have a mild obsession with looking thin, and so black is their best friend.
But besides its fantastic fat-erasing skills, black is a priceless social color in Paris. With black, you go unnoticed.
Going unnoticed is the dream of every Parisian. The Parisian does not want his clothes to reveal his singularity. The only singularity worth revealing in Paris is that of the mind. Therefore the Parisian’s clothes ought to be simple: all Parisians know that le noir, c’est simple, c’est bien. (“Black is simple; it’s good.”)
The Parisian knows his colors. Parisians look at people dressed colorfully with a fair bit of disdain.
Style exuberance in Paris is considered offensive.
The mental sanity of a person bold enough to wear such outrageous colors as yellow or red will be questioned at once by all Parisians. There is no wearing red or yellow in Paris if you are mentally sane. Blue is acceptable. Especially navy blue, which has the good taste of being easily mistaken for black.
The golden rule of black wearing has only one exception, and that is a seasonal one. In the summertime, Parisian guys get to wear white. For le blanc, c’est simple, c’est bien. (“White is simple; it’s good.”)
Parisian girls will opt for la couleur de l’été. Every summer comes with a new official color dictated by women’s magazines. Color originality has its limits.
All Parisian girls happily accept this new seasonal paradigm. Walking in the streets of Paris on a “blue” summer feels like walking through an urban Smurf village.
When the Parisian boyfriend points out the ugliness of the color, the Parisian girlfriend systematically looks at him with a mix of desperation and exasperation. C’est hyper tendance cette couleur cet été, tu comprends rien. (“That color is so hip this summer, you just don’t get it.”)
Indeed, Parisian men could make an effort: that was a simple one.
USEFUL TIP: Do not wear black only. A white collar is always an elegant—and simple—addition.
SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: J’me suis acheté un p’tit pull noir, tout simple, super mignon . . . (“I just bought a small black coat, simple and cute . . .”)
Having Theories
Thinking differently in Paris does not imply radical or in-depth questionings. Thinking differently simply implies appearing to be thinking differently. In Paris, this takes the form of having theories.
Parisians have an opinion about most things, thus making it clear they have a significant knowledge about most things in life.
Having theories takes this to the next level. Theories prove that not only does the Parisian have more information and knowledge than other people, but he also processed that information through his own personal filter. The superiority filter.
Parisians have theories about everything and everyone. They do, though, have a special liking for theories that revolve around politics. By politics, the Parisian intends two things: intense battles for power and politicians’ sex lives.
Coming up with blunt media-ingested-type information is a sign of mental weakness in Paris. To come up with a good theory, the Parisian needs to connect facts that are usually not connected or that bring new elements to the table. It is important to appear to be doing this in an intelligent manner. Theories are all about shedding a new light. Parisians create the light.
To introduce his theories, the Parisian will usually use one of two introductory clauses: j’ai ma théorie usually works for theories about people but shows that the theory is not really a serious one; j’ai une théorie shows others that some serious thinking has been put into it and others will listen, for their intellect has been turned on by this expression. But the most Machiavellian Parisians will use theory after theory but never warn that these are theories. Other people, including Parisians, will be fooled and will inevitably reach the conclusion that this Parisian is extremely cultivé and intelligent.
It is important to realize that very few Parisians form their own theories. Most Parisians repeat theories they heard on TV, or from their really smart uncle. No credit is ever given to the actual source. The actual source is always the Parisian.
When a theory has become repeated so much that it stops being a catchy theory in Paris, Parisians usually refrain from using it, for they do not want to come across as fake theory people. They will nonetheless recycle these old theories when they go en province.
For obviously, Parisians have a theory about provinciaux: they have no clue.
USEFUL TIP: Use theories with parsimony, at the risk of appearing as an adept of conspiracy theories, which is a brutal form of disgrace in Paris.
SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Moi j’ai une théorie: les gens qui portent des pantalons à pince . . . (“I have a theory about men who wear pants with apparent folds on each leg . . .”)
Les Grandes Écoles
In Paris, academic performance is the main—if not the only—determinant of intelligence. Consequently, people who did graduate from a grande école are considered superior beings.
Faire de bonnes études in France means only two things: faire médecine or faire une grande école. All the rest is crap.
Les grandes écoles are a highly competitive set of graduate schools. They fall into two categories: commerce (ESSEC, HEC) and ingénieur (Polytechnique, Centrale, Mines, Ponts). Add Sciences Po (which is halfway through) and Ulm (which is not properly une école) to that list and there you have your French grandes écoles. Conveniently, they are all based in the surroundings of Paris. (Where else?)
Graduating from a Grande École leaves in the Parisian subconscious mind a more lasting mark than a tattoo on a Finn’s skin. Most Parisians who did not graduate from a grande école consequently feel a form of discomfort about it. They might be great parents, great professionals, or great people, but they missed that key milestone of Parisian intelligence.
It is therefore every Parisian’s dream to have at least one of his children entering a grande école. If that happens, the Parisian can die in peace.
The fact that a person is a student or an alumnus of a grande école usually comes early in a conversation. Rarely though from the actual graduate: more frequently, this piece of information is brought to the table by the inferior friend, who is too happy to boast a grande école friend in front of his other inferior friends: “J’étais là-bas avec Marc, tu sais, mon copain centralien ...” At this point, the grande écol
e graduate adopts a humble “I’m just like you guys” profile. On top of being smarter, he is also sympa. This makes others admire him even more.
Grandes écoles are hard to get into. It takes excellent grades, hard work, educated parents, and a hint of luck. The most fantastic thing about putting together that combination is that no matter what he does with his life, Parisians will always consider the grande école graduate to be superior. And therefore entitled throughout his career.
The fact that most grande école graduates end up being gray corporate executives is not relevant. Their intelligence has been vouched already. They won. Everybody else lost. It is important to realize that in Paris, no successful entrepreneur, artist, writer, chef, or artisan can be considered part of the elite (at least in his lifetime). This category is exclusively reserved to grandes écoles alumni. Other people are expected to move on.
By understanding that intelligence is onefold and fully determined at age twenty, Parisians manage to offer the world an easily readable social scale. Finally! Merci qui?
USEFUL TIP: The most obvious form of professional success in Paris is to be a grande école almunus’s boss.
SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Tu sais que Diane se marie?! Un garçon très bien, ESSEC, super sympa. (“You know who Diane is marrying? A great guy, ESSEC graduate, really nice.”)
Stuff Parisians Like Page 6
