Stuff Parisians Like Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Introduction

  South America

  Robert Doisneau

  Calling People Beaufs

  Wedding Days

  Le Caramel au Beurre Salé

  The Word Sympa

  Sushi

  Saying They Like Classical Music

  Le Café Gourmand

  L’Ile Saint-Louis

  Considering Americans Stupid

  Cherry Tomatoes

  The Word Putain

  Belgians

  Moderation

  Stars

  Le Marché

  Crossing the Street in a Bold Way

  La San Pé

  Southern Accents

  Considering Artists as Slackers

  P’tits Weekends

  Olive Oil

  Le Monde

  Thinking That Not Wearing White Socks Makes You a Better Person

  Snow

  The Luxembourg Garden

  Calling People by Their License Plate

  Jeans

  Berthillon

  Roland Garros

  Old Friends

  Seine River Cruises

  Wearing Black

  Having Theories

  Les Grandes Écoles

  Despising le PSG

  Diets

  Knowing About Current Exhibits

  Scruffs

  Version Originale (V.O.)

  Doubts

  Jacques Brel

  Le Moelleux au Chocolat

  The Idea of Sailing

  Winning Conversations

  Foreign Girls

  The Word Petit

  Making Lists

  Le Ski

  Not Exercising

  New York

  Wealthy Arrondissement Bashing

  Complaining

  The Sun

  House Parties

  Last-Minute Flaking

  Urinating in the Street

  Riding a Bicycle

  Macarons Ladurée

  Wondering What the Point of Living in Paris Is

  Rugby

  Small Cars

  The Idea of Moving Overseas

  Clint Eastwood

  Le 1er Mai

  Le TGV

  Calling People Fachos

  Going to the Movies on Sunday

  Considering Mental Affliction a Sign of Intellectual Superiority

  Bitching About Waiters

  Criticizing Parisians

  Les Petites Vestes

  The Idea of Being a Bon Vivant

  Barbecues

  Lunch Menus

  Reading the Titles of the Books Displayed in a Home They’re Invited into for ...

  Thailand

  Le Burger

  Cobblestone

  Les Planches de Charcut

  Wanting to Start a Business

  Relationships

  UNICEF Cards

  Bashing Tourists

  Buying the Paper While on Vacation

  Scarves

  Michelin-Starred Restaurants

  La Bretagne

  Friendly Old People

  La Fleur de Sel

  La Place des Vosges

  Not Talking About Their Money

  Sunglasses

  Saying Trop

  English Humor

  Barcelona

  Reasonably Boring Nightlife

  Testosterone-Deprived Males

  Le Dalaï-Lama

  Interns

  Expats

  Les Droits de l’Homme

  Le Métro

  Le Chèvre Chaud

  Barack Obama

  Saint-Germain des Prés

  Not Drinking Wine

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand

  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2011 Olivier Magny

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley trade paperback edition / July 2011

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Magny, Olivier.

  p. cm.

  ISBN : 978-1-101-51671-3

  1. Paris (France—Civilization—21st century—Humor. 2. Paris (France—Social life and customs—Humor. 3. National characteristics, French—Humor. I. Title.

  DC715M317 2011

  944’.36100207—dc22

  2010049192

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Acknowledgments

  This book would never have existed without the lenience of Nicolas Paradis, my business partner at Ô Chateau. All the time I spent writing Stuff Parisians Like, I did not spend working on Ô Chateau.

  He’s quite the business partner; I’m well aware of it. No matter what the name on the cover says, this book is also vastly his.

  Other special thanks go to the readers of my blog. If it wasn’t for their kind words month after month, I would never have kept on with my silly writing.

  So merci, really.

  (Here, the first French myth debunked: Not all Frenchies are ungrateful pricks.... More in the following pages, stick with me).

  Introduction

  In my broken English, I’ve written every word of this book.

  Except for 6.

  That is “Discovering the quoi in the je-ne-sais-quoi.” I must say I’m somewhat bummed for I think this is the wittiest line of the book, the most efficient, too.

  I’m accountable for the other less witty, less efficient lines in here.

  English

  Parisians know English very well.

  Usually better than French.

  English words have become a necessary ornament to the French spoken in Paris.

  The Parisian talks about son spirit, son timing, or son management with his friends. Il squeeze, il checke, il switche. Parisians working in the corporate world are the best at English. They fully master it. All day, they deal with “meetings,” “slides,” “open space,” and “feedback.”

  Their nine-to-five lingo soon enough turns into a second nature: the Parisian est corporate. Thank God for the corporate world. The Parisian knows that French has its limits. What in the world could be a translation for spirit anyway?

&nbs
p; When a Parisian shares that il est en speed car il a squeezé un gros meeting entre un lunch avec son boss et un conf call avec son CEO (“he is late because he scheduled a big meeting between a lunch with his boss and a conference call with the CEO”), he is completely oblivious to the fact that his French is somewhat sprinkled with English words. That’s what knowledge does to you. Knoweldge acquired in the workplace, while traveling, or in magazines. With most of the press headquartered in Paris, new fashion, people, or shopping sections flourish in every publication.

  To the Parisian, English is secretly more cool and quite obviously much simpler than French. And is a fantastic way for the Parisian to recognize his peers. While all Parisians will understand the sentence above at once, only a few provinciaux will. Most will somehow mock the Parisian for talking like this. That’s what ignorance does to you.

  Faced with criticism, Parisians may react in two opposite fashions. Some will admit: Ouais, je sais, c’est grave, hein, j’peux pas m’empêcher, c’est con, hein?! (“Yes, I know, I can’t stop myself. It’s stupid, right?”) Others will strike back: Oh la la, évolue un peu, c’est bon, faut pas être passéiste comme ça: Relax, Max. (“Suck it up, it’s all good and you don’t have to live in the past like that all the time: Relax.”)

  The Parisian is the victim of his own knowledge. Vraiment, c’est hard d’être Parisien.

  USEFUL TIP: If you’re a native Anglophone, first learn about the meaning Parisians have put behind each English word. Surprises may occur.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: Non, mais le deal c’est qu’y’a pas de guest list, c’est tout! (“No, the deal is that there is no guest list, end of the story.”)

  South America

  Parisians love South America. There is no exception to that rule.

  The definition of South America for Parisians is simple: South America is anything south of America. The existence of Central America is not a relevant question in Paris. The actual existence of several countries within South America is already bewildering enough. All Parisians know that South America is colorful, authentic, and happy. Very little differentiation ought to be made between Guatemala and Peru.

  During his student years, a Parisian customarily takes a trip to South America. A l’aventure. Going to South America without a backpack would be considered very poor travel standards to a Parisian. One is to backpack in South America. Backpacking for the Parisian includes traveling with a backpack and des bonnes chaussures de marche. And sleeping in hotels.

  Returning from a trip to South America, the Parisian will systematically say it was génial. He will have a word about les couleurs. And les gens. Though, obviously, it was un peu roots. For sure, it was.

  Most Parisians have a friend from South America. Those who don’t wished they did. South American friends bring lightheartedness and a Spanish accent to Parisian parties. These are key to a good party. Lightheartedness is a quality Parisians love in people from South America and Belgium. They admire it in English people. And they despise it in people from France or the U.S.

  The only negative point Parisians sometimes mention about South America is la violence. Parisians all have a friend who got mugged in Brazil. Yet Parisians’ love for South America is here to stay. For, ultimately, the Parisian love for South America is a typical form of Parisian love, made of an authentic appreciation for qualities the Parisian wished he had and a comfortable feeling of insuperable superiority over the subject of his love.

  USEFUL TIP: Go to Argentina.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: J’ai trop envie de me faire un voyage en Amérique du Sud. (“I so want to take a trip to South America.”)

  Robert Doisneau

  Parisians like Paris. And they like to display that they do.

  Posters are the Parisians’ vector of choice to celebrate their affection for their city.

  Putting up a poster of a Parisian monument would be such an outsider’s thing to do (though some lazy Parisians will opt for the series of pictures related to the construction of the Eiffel Tower). The whole Aristide Bruant thing has been over for fifteen years.

  These days, a real Parisian prefers to put up on his wall, on his fridge, or in his toilettes a picture of Robert Doisneau. Robert Doisneau’s mid-twentieth century black-and-white pictures usually represent Parisians (lovers or children) in Paris. Doisneau’s pictures give to a room a gloomy/melancholic /artistic touch that Parisians cannot get enough of. The Paris represented in these photographs is the romantic, eternal, and populaire Paris. As Doisneau liked to say, “Ma photo, c’est le monde tel que je souhaite qu’il soit” (“My photo, it’s how I wish the world would be”). Parisians understand this very well. They, too, would like the world to be black and white, charming and melancholic.

  As for all mainstream things in Paris, an implicit social classification exists. What you display on your walls defines where you stand socially. Where you stand socially defines what you display on your walls. The bottom of the Doisneau hierarchy is evidently his most well-known photograph, Le Baiser de l’Hôtel de Ville. All teenage Parisian girls own a reproduction of this picture. Adults putting up a poster of Le Baiser de l’Hotel de Ville send the clear message that either they have stuck to the teenage-girl level or that they are unaware of existing social codes in Paris. Both lead to sheer ridicule and diminished social credit.

  Which Doisneau picture the Parisian chooses to display in his home will help the visitor conjure up a finer portrait of his host. Aspiring artists will cherish Les Pains de Picasso, freethinkers will opt for Les frères, rue du Docteur Lecène, smiley carabins for Regard Obique, while school nostalgia is clearly displayed in L’information scolaire, école rue Buffon. A photo de Doisneau in a Parisian apartment is like a status update on a Facebook profile: a key to one’s identity.

  Parisian women have a special liking for Robert Doisneau, but Parisian men are happy to cope with his artwork. Should conflicts appear about the relevance to display a Doisneau photograph on a wall, a typical Parisian trade-off is to opt for a Doisneau coffee table book. Always a great hit when you have friends over. Flipping through the pages of the book, other Parisians will sit back on the couch, look at the pictures together, and simply say, “J’l’adore celle-là, elle est trop bien.”

  More than just Doisneau, Parisians know their arts.

  USEFUL TIP: Impress your friends by knowing another photographer besides Robert Doisneau.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: J’adooore Doisneau.

  Calling People Beaufs

  Le beauf (pronounce “bohf”) is somewhere between the American redneck and the English pikey. In French imagery, le beauf drinks beer, wears wifebeaters, watches soccer endlessly, and vacations in his RV.

  In Paris, the definition is a bit broader.

  For the Parisian, every person he does not know is a beauf.

  Calling people beaufs is a wonderful thing for Parisians. It allows them to assert conveniently their superiority while not going through the trouble of enduring a painstaking analysis that might lead them to interrogations about themselves or others. Indeed, the beauf verdict is an immediate one. Some beaufs are pushing it and Parisians won’t get much credit for pointing them out: “White socks? Quel beauf!”

  Too easy.

  Superior perceived social status is acquired by mocking habits and attitudes that are typical of upper-class or even better—rich—people. “He’s spending the weekend in Deauville? Can’t believe it. Quel beauf !” “Is he really driving a Hummer? Quel gros beauf!” By striking his audience with an unsuspected beauf designation, the Parisian scores serious social points: “Did he really take his nephew to Disneyland? Quel beauf!” The ultimate goal is to make all the people surrounding the Parisian wonder if, compared to him, they are not ultimately complete beaufs.

  It is Parisian wisdom that one is always someone else’s beauf. Yet the Parisian can never tolerate the threatening shadow of beaufitude upon his head. When one of the things he says, wears, or does gets him called a beauf
by one of his fellow Parisians (who else?), disdain is the appropriate answer. By disdainfully calling on self-derision or edginess, the Parisian not only washes off the attack but also pours the beaufitude back onto his initial offender.

  The beauty of living in Paris is that beauf is a concept applicable to nonhuman things: destinations, activities, pieces of clothing, music, decoration, books ... Almost all things can be beauf in Paris....

  . . . thus making Parisians feel good about themselves in all situations.

  USEFUL TIP: At a costume party, amuse your Parisian friends by opting for a beauf costume.

  SOUND LIKE A PARISIAN: C’est vraiment des gros beaufs ces Américains. . . .

  Wedding Days

  Parisians have mixed feelings about weddings.

  When Parisians first hear about a wedding, they get excited. Automatically. Not by the good news itself, but by the announcement of it: le faire-part. This one piece of paper that defines both the class origin of the couple and the social value of the new household. Le faire-part is an indelible imprint. Friends will find it super classique, hyper moche, or original, disons. Le faire-part is not really a wedding announcement note. It’s more one of these bound-to-fail tests. Automatically, indeed, excitement ensues for the Parisian.

  Such pace is hard to sustain. At this point then, the Parisian gets annoyed with the wedding. He happily claims that he does not want to attend. Fun events are by essence painful to the Parisian. When fun takes the form of a social obligation, the Parisian sees nothing but nonsense. But he will give in. Resiliently for the Parisian man, in vague hysterical stress for the Parisian woman: Oh la la, j’ai rien à me mettre. Et puis j’suis grosse, faut absolument que je perde cinq kilos d’ici le mariage. (“I have nothing to wear. Plus I’m fat. I absolutely must lose ten pounds before this wedding.”)