The debate

It is still the Presidential elections in France and last night was the great debate, which I didn’t find so great, but I did find rather fun to watch. French political debates are very different from my memories of US Presidential debates. Instead of standing officially at lecterns, each candidate is comfortably seated, with their notes. They face each other, not the voters, which helps tensions rise and makes for some great tv moments. As does the fact that the candidates do not have a set time limit for each answer. From an anglo-saxon perspective, this is not a debate, but a moderated argument, that turns into an intellectual free for all.

If I had any doubts as to the tone of the debate, I had only to look at the stage set, which closely resembled an electrified, post-modern gladiator arena from the days when Astérix and Obelisk were tormenting their Roman landlords in a Paris that was known as Lutèce.

Two journalist join the candidates at a table that, in keeping with the ancient roman theme, resembles a gladiator’s shield when seen from above. Their official role is to ask the questions, balance each candidate’s speaking time and try to keep the debate moving forward. Their unofficial role is to prevent it from coming to blows.

In true forum style, candidates quickly go beyond the gallic shrug and show their latin roots as they pound fists on the table, point fingers and throw insults at one another. And what never ceases to amuse my anglo upbringing is that they interrupt each other. Loudly and for an extended period of time, so that voters, hoping to be more informed, and perhaps make a decision based on some facts, never actually hear any facts.

Following another anglo tradition, my New Zealander friend Koko has an important note for the socialist party’s candidate; your party’s colors are red, not blue, red. Change the glasses, get a new tie and for heaven’s sake man, show some pride in your team! Nobody, but nobody in the French press has mentioned this little faux pas, so my best guess is that in France, this is not a faux pas. Red is simply not ‘in’ this year and no matter what your political allegiance may be, this is Paris… fashion first!

After talking to Koko, I made a point of noticing that the two journalists on the set. They were both clad in a judicial, neutral black. Très chic

Hermes

Your new summer tote

When I first noticed the Vanessa Bruno tote, it was not because I had a great love of fashion, but because it was literally everywhere. It would have been hard to miss it. The following season there was a scarf that had a similar following (knit with thin, bright-colored stripes on a dark grey background) and there have since been many more fashion fads.

Last month I saw a new fad emerging. It is a lovely, duo-toned leather tote, with a gold zipper that runs horizontally, about 2/3s down the bag and has two rather large, leather tassels. The faux-leather is often brightly colored in green, salmon or yellow jewels tones, sometimes balanced with a sedate beige and it is occasionally stamped with a faux animal print, imitating croc or snake skin.

The first time I saw this bag I was on the rue de Babylone, just steps from my very first fashion fad spotting, so perhaps it was the universe telling me something. I doubt it. The bag I spotted was in a gorgeous green that really caught my eye. I thought it was a very expensive designer bag. But, I was seeing it everywhere and on everyone of all ages, which is usually a sign that it is reasonably affordable. Then I started seeing it in shop windows, and sure enough, at 69€, the bag is several generations removed from a runway budget. At that price, it is clearly not leather and I wanted to know more. After visiting three or four shops and getting no answers, helpful sales girl reluctantly informed me that the bags are a crafty restyling (therefore legal) of a very expensive and very popular Celine bag.

Now, I know the argument, who wants fake, when you can have the real deal? Clearly the hundreds of parisennes I see toting this tote. Because, you see, as much as they love fashion parisiennes are a pragmatic lot and unless they are fabulously wealthy, they are not likely to invest in a luxurious, yet trendy, leather bag that they’d then be traipsing through a sandy beach and it likely to be a has been within the next 3 years. A faux-leather, not-quite-fake bag is good enough for a passing summer fancy.

I bet that you are all dying to know where you can get yours. I see them everywhere, but at this address near the Bon Marché they have the faux version, as well as more expensive ones in leather and a very helpful young sales lady who was willing to tell the truth. Happy shopping!

Basic Bazaar

May Day

Confession. I collect dolls. I have collected dolls since I was a very young girl, then I started collecting masks, and then I opened a portrait studio. I seem to be obsessed with faces. One of my favorite dolls when I was very young was from the Kiddie Kologne collection by Matel. Sour apple, Honeysuckle, I had them all, but the one I loved was Lily-of-the-Valley, for her charming blossoms and delicate scent. I still love Lily-of-the-Valley, but today I have to settle for the flowers.

May 1st, 1561, King Charles IX received a Lily-of-the-Valley for good luck. He liked the idea and offered the same flower to all the ladies in his court. It was a very good idea and 500 years latet the tradition seems to have stuck. Probably because the lady receiving the flower is obliged to give a kiss in return, which seems to inspire quite a bit of generousity. Every year, on May Day, the streets of every town are littered with people selling bouquets of muguets, while the forests are full of people harvesting muguet on the one day it is legal to do so and even the chocolatiers get into the act, filling plastic pots with chocolate soil and adding a plastic sprig of the bloom.

When we were first dating Mr French noticed that I like white flowers in general, and I may have mentioned the Lily-of-the-Valley specifically. The weekend before ‘our’ first May Day he showed up for a date with a huge bouquet of Lily-of-the-Valley. No fillers, just lilies. There were probably 200 sprigs in the bunch. It was gorgeous. It swept me off my feet and made me feel like one of Charles IX ladies at a royal court.

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