Stuff Parisians Like

by Olivier Magny

  Despising le PSG

  In Paris, the ultimate form of mental degradation is to support a sports team.

  Parisians are not into sports very much. Playing sports is degrading. Watching sports on TV is straight-up shameful.

  Yet the Parisian is an understanding person. He will give his friend an earful if the friend said he watched du foot à la télé the night before. But he understands. What he does not understand and therefore does not tolerate is the act of supporting one given sports team.

  Blind and continuous support to a cause is fully acceptable in Paris should the cause be a social or political one. Blind and continuous support to any other cause should be treated with nothing but contempt. This rule applies to all people within Paris.

  Though it is worthwhile to know that Parisians find a certain romantic appeal to soccer/football fanatics in Marseille, in Lens, and in Latin countries. All other soccer fans are irremediable beaufs.

  The most repelling form of degradation in Paris is to support the local soccer/football team: le Paris Saint-Germain (aka le PSG). It is obvious Parisian knowledge that there is nothing good about le PSG. Nothing.

  Consequently, there can be nothing good about PSG fans. Not only are they sports fans, they are soccer fans. Not only are they soccer fans, they are PSG fans. A hopeless category of people.

  The only Parisians who like le PSG are banlieusards (“suburbanites”). Banlieusards thus feel like they actually are Parisians. Needless to say, this is foolishly illusory. No one who grew up or lives on the other side of le périphérique, no matter how close, can ever claim, one day, to be a Parisian.

  The hatred against le PSG is so deeply rooted in Parisians that simply going to le Parc des Princes to see a game is considered a social disgrace. Interestingly, while going to see a PSG game is the most obvious form of absence of dignity in Paris, it is fully acceptable, if not cool, to go see le Stade Français—Paris’s rugby team. Parisians are people of taste. Rugby cannot be compared to soccer.

  The Parisian feels great about hating le PSG. By doing so, he clearly states that he is not a beauf, not into sports, and not blinded by illusory feelings of belonging. Hating le PSG is just another oblivious statement of superiority for Parisians. In hatred, the Parisian grows as a person.

  USEFUL TIP: Buying a PSG jersey is a great gift for anyone who lives outside Europe. Europeans prefer a Stade Français item.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Tu vois le mec, ambiance, genre, euh . . . supporter du PSG!(“The guy was like . . . hmm . . . PSG-fan type!”)

  Diets

  Parisians are all too fat. They are therefore all on a diet.

  After the weather conversation, the weight conversation is the Parisian’s favorite. It is a fantastic conversation. It allows the Parisian to display his observation talent and his contrition while at the same time showing ambition and resolution.

  The Parisian will not let fatness take over.

  Comments about the weight gained or lost by a person—should that person be facing the Parisian or not—are usual and widely accepted. Being utterly sensitive, the Parisian frequently enriches his weight comments with psychological explanations. The most common reason in Paris to explain weight gain is il a pas trop la forme (“he’s kind of down these days”). The Parisian knows how to play with words. Psychological contributions aim at displaying a deeper level of consciousness and a real sense of empathy. The Parisian never sees you as just a body. The Parisian knows you are first and foremost a soul.

  Only one expression can precede weight comments. That is bah dis donc: Bah dis donc, t’as pris un peu, non?! Or, the reverse, Bah dis donc, t’as vachement maigri. It is good to know that the Parisian will only seem to rejoice about a friend’s weight loss. Deep inside, all he thinks about is that his weight is not following the same noble curve.

  A common mistake is to believe that only Parisian women are dieting. Men are, too. Paris is the only city in the world where men eat salads for lunch. It would be misleading to draw conclusions about the salad-eating Parisian man’s sexual orientation.

  Diets in Paris are not followed in a precise manner. Especially by men. In Paris, social life undermines all possibilities of an actual diet. Hence all possibilities of an actual weight loss. Since diets do not work, Parisians need more diets. Parisian women try diets they hear about in magazines or from their friends. Parisian men just skip dessert. Yet Parisian men are never au régime, Parisian men font gaffe en ce moment. It is not the same.

  Parisians cannot get enough of allégé, “0 percent,” and “light” mentions on the foods they buy. It has lately become unthinkable for Parisian women to buy yogurts that are not 0 percent.

  While the rest of the world wants more for less, the Parisian wants less for more. Diets in Paris are the path to wisdom.

  USEFUL TIP: Compliment Parisian men about their weight losses. They will pretend not to care. But you and I know better.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Un p’tit dessert? Non, j’fais gaffe en c’moment. (“A little dessert? No, I’m being careful these days.”)

  Knowing About Current Exhibits

  Art exhibits are a Parisian must. They are many and constant.

  Modern art, photographers, retrospectives ... you name it.

  Most Parisians are aware of the main expos going on.

  It would yet be naive to believe that the point for Parisians to know about current exhibits is to go see them or to develop their culture. The real point of knowing about current exhibits is to show you know about current exhibits. The main effect of which will be an immediate increase in the Parisian’s perceived social value.

  Knowing about current expos, if displayed frequently yet rather discreetly, will make Parisians seem delightfully refined and cultured. Parisians show reverence to people of culture.

  It is important to understand that ultimate levels of sophistication do not come in Paris from being a person of culture but from coming across as one. Culture is a fool’s game in Paris. One may think that keeping up with the ever-changing new expo scene is a lot of work. Again, it is not. Remember, it is not about knowing but about looking like you do. Many Parisians pass a museum on their way to work every morning. And the current main exhibit is always massively advertised in the Metro or on the streets. So right there, the Parisian can effortlessly fuel conversations with at least two exhibits people “need to see.” Maximal effect will be achieved when, alongside with the artist, the Parisian also mentions where the exhibit is held. That is the highest form of culture in Paris.

  It is basic Parisian knowledge that only six categories of people go to art exhibits in Paris. They are provinciaux, foreign exchange students, teachers, foreign tourists, retirees, and expats’ wives. No other Parisian has ever seen an expo ever.

  Yet all Parisians always “really want to go see it.’ Usually because they “heard it was great.” Sadly, they “really don’t have time.” But just in case, they’ll ask, “When does it end?”

  While figuring out this pernicious Parisian approach to cultural life, non-Parisians may think “name-dropping.” Foolish. It’s art-dropping. Art-dropping creates an artsy feeling all around. Contagious bubbles of art talk flourish throughout the city. Experts fail to comment on it, but make no mistake: art-dropping will soon be considered a form of art itself.

  By neglecting art, Parisians create art.

  USEFUL TIP: Only say you actually went to see une expo when talking to people from one of the six categories mentioned above. It would be rude and pretentious to do so with a Parisian.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Il y a une super expo Avedon en ce moment au Jeu de Paume. (“There is a super exhibit on Avedon right now at Jeu de Paume.”)

  Scruffs

  Parisian men are not to shave every day. Parisian men are to have a scruff.

  A good scruff sends Parisian men to the very top of the sexiness scale. Men with a scruff are somewhere between Indiana Jones in Malaysia and George Clooney on a Sunday afternoon. Scru
ff makes Parisian men irresistible.

  Parisian men want to be irresistible.

  Parisian women love their men with a scruff. They love this itchy expression of adventure that grows on their men’s faces. A scruff offers Parisians just the right dose of adventure. Civilized adventure. The look of adventure without the smell of it. Potential is more than enough in Paris.

  In Paris, having a scruff is a social affirmation. A man with a scruff in not a tool of the corporate world. Scruff is a clear indication of freedom in Paris. The more high end the place the Parisian man goes with a scruff, the more powerful and confident he obviously is. The limit of scruff wearing is pushed a bit further every day in Paris.

  Though they love their scruff, Parisian men must go about saying they are tired of their scruff. They need to bitch about how they need to shave and how shaving is such an oppressive task. Parisian men will always shave before meeting up with their mother. It is obviously Parisian knowledge that to Parisian mothers, a scruffy son is a terrible thing.

  Scruff experts do not shave with a razor, but with a tondeuse . Use of la tondeuse allows the most advanced Parisian men to keep a permanent barbe de trois jours. With a bit of aesthetic talent and a sense of facial hair styling, Parisian men achieve this miracle, making three days last forever.

  With just a scruff, Parisian men manage to attract women, express their inalienable freedom, and stop time. Yet their day hasn’t even started yet. Now who can beat that?

  USEFUL TIP: Scruff with very elegant clothes is the absolute key to success in Paris.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Ouais, faut qu’j’me rase. (“Yeah, I need to shave.”)

  Version Originale (V.O.)

  In Paris, foreign movies are to be watched in V.O. (V.O. stands for version originale—which means in their language of origin, with French subtitles.)

  If you watch a foreign film in V.F. (version française), you are a beauf. Straight up.

  Watching a movie in V.O. allows the Parisian to display his superiority in many ways. First off, if the Parisian does so, it is because he is a fantastic English speaker (a huge number of foreign films played in France are American or British). Whether or not the Parisian actually speaks English is irrelevant. He watches films en V.O. so he is.

  Besides being talented and obviously well traveled, the Parisian is also quite the culture person. Therefore he will not tolerate for a work of art to be butchered by poorly executed voice-overs. V.O. is just better. This is not a valid point for Asian movies though.

  It is OK to butcher Asian movies with poorly executed voice-overs.

  If you want to make your Parisian friend feel good about himself, simply offer him the opportunity to watch a movie in V.F. He will refuse with much seriousness, arguing that he never watches movies in V.F. Ever. Je ne supporte pas (“I can’t stand it”) is usually the response you will get. The Parisian just drowned you in the deep seas of ignorance and disdain. Very satisfying feeling. Well done on your side: you just strengthened your friendship with the Parisian.

  The Parisian’s love for V.O. now goes beyond movie theaters. In Paris, it is no longer acceptable to like American TV shows in V.F. A few precursors started the trend a decade ago with the show Friends: Je supporte pas la voix de Ross en français. (“I cannot stand Ross’s voice in French.”) Most Parisians just cannot cope any more with the dubbed versions that TV plays these days. They need to buy the DVDs. It is an obligation. Intellectual excellence has its price.

  Parisians are willing to pay that price.

  USEFUL TIP: To look more Parisian, request V.O. It is evidence.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: V.F.? Pas moyen! (“V.F.? No way!”)

  Doubts

  Some may think that Parisians live in Paris. They don’t.

  They live in doubt.

  Parisians doubt.

  They doubt everything. All the time.

  Truthfully, the Parisian mostly doubts good things. Bad things are rarely questioned, for the Parisian knows that bad is part of life.

  Doubt is a structuring element of Parisian thinking. Doubt offers one of these double-win situations Parisians cannot get enough of. When doubting, you win because you are smarter. If you doubt, you question the given. You shed the higher and brighter light of your intelligence and experience on things.

  But doubting is also a wonderful buffer against enthusiasm and its load of degrading positive vibes. Parisians will doubt any good news. Systematically. They will question the origin, the reality, or the outcome of any new fact. Being in an analytical state allows the Parisian to ingeniously dodge emotional states.

  The Parisian is a thinker. Not a feeler. Cold states comfort him.

  Doubting people will provide the Parisian with much less social gratification than doubting facts or situations. Doubting someone will be seen as a display of insecurity. It is not recommended. Parisians only doubt two types of people: their parents and their significant other. The Parisian only doubts the people he knows the most.

  By doubting things in a systematic manner, the Parisian never expects anything good to come for him. If something good happens, the Parisian will be annoyed that his doubts did not end up being justified. If his doubts were justified and something bad happens, the Parisian will feel the thrill of success and intelligence down his spine.

  Bad feels good for Parisians.

  USEFUL TIP: The most common expression of doubt in Paris is nonverbal. Lip action.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Mouais . . . ca m’étonnerait quand même! (“Well . . . I do have my doubts about that really!”)

  Jacques Brel

  Parisians want to be great and in pain.

  Jacques Brel was great, and he was in pain.

  Therefore Jacques Brel is every Parisian’s idol.

  Parisians reluctantly admit to seeing value in other human beings. Only a few can make it to the pantheon of Parisians’ acceptance. Even fewer are artists. Jacques Brel was one of them.

  Jacques Brel was Belgian. Usually, Parisians would hold that against him. But Brel’s talent made him universal. And therefore ultimately Parisian.

  Every Parisian believes deep inside that he has the talent to be a fantastic artist. Life turned out differently but the potential was there. The Parisian is lazy or caught up in life. But he is immensely talented. Brel was a fantastic artist: by excelling in song writing, singing, and interpretation, he kindly put a mirror in front of every Parisian’s face. Every Parisian could be Jacques Brel. Every Parisian is Jacques Brel. At least the greatness of Jacques Brel.

  Because Brel was also a man in pain. Scandalized by the brutalities of life. Brel was singing his pain away. Parisians are addicted to pain. They admire pain.

  A man in pain got it.

  His sulfurous combination of pain and talent, presented with the luster of elegance and truthfulness, is a turn-on for every Parisian. In Paris, constant pain is a form of intellectual distinction. Brel turned pain into beauty. Parisians are forever thankful for that. Brel did not destroy the pain. He magnified it.

  While engaging in a conversation about Brel with a Parisian, it is imperative to also mention Brassens. Brassens and Brel in Paris come as a package.

  USEFUL TIP: A great present for a Parisian is the poster of Jacques Brel, George Brassens, and Léo Ferré. Definitely belongs in his toilettes.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Brel, c’était le plus grand! (“Brel was the greatest!”)

  Le Moelleux au Chocolat

  Parisians are guilty by essence.

  Guilt is a Parisian’s closest companion.

  Parisians like to feed their good old friend guilt. Unconsciously, most of the time. But even, at times, in a perversely conscious manner. The toy of choice for Parisians to pet their guilt is not sex. It is le moelleux au chocolat. Le moelleux au chocolat is pure indulgence. The ultimate form of chocolate-based pleasure. An irresistible mix of mostly chocolate, butter, and sin.

  Parisians all love their moelleux au chocolat. Every restaurant
in Paris carries a moelleux. It has become a Parisian obsession. A discharge system for all frustrations. A deep hole to jump into blindly.

  Le moelleux is dark, sweet, warm, and runny. It is an orgasm crowning Parisian dinners.

  All Parisians feel bad about ordering their moelleux. Most usually handle guilt leaks at the moment of ordering it with a “La vie est courte” (“Life is short”) or an “Allez hop, un petit plaisir” (“A little treat, come on”). Phrases Parisian men would surely like to hear more often.

  Eden’s garden had the apple, Paris has the moelleux.

  Le moelleux is so synonymous with forbidden pleasure that most waiters now offer two spoons when the Parisian orders a moelleux. Against all odds, at that very moment, Parisian waiters become sympathetic. Their legendary coldness is broken down. The weight of guilt on the moelleux eater is too vertiginous. He needs help. He needs another spoon. Even the chef steps in by frequently adding vanilla ice cream on the plate. Foodies think the vanilla ice cream is a triumphant form of contrast, chaud-froid and black-white all at once, highlighting the brotherly insolence of the silky textures. But no. Vanilla ice cream is just there as a relief. It is just there to make the moelleux eater feel better about himself. Vanilla ice cream brings the lightness and the freshness. A spoonful of glace vanille, even mixed with a bite of moelleux, is still not moelleux all the way.

  Le moelleux au chocolat is a very accurate emotional indicator. When witnessing someone eating a moelleux, it is imperative to be quite considerate and delicate with that person. Moelleux eaters indulge because they need to. Le moelleux is the French and fattening version of the American hug. These people are in pain. They need a quick fix. But the moelleux, by feeding their guilt, will only increase their pain. Niceness is necessary before, during, and after a moelleux.