Seen and noticed in Paris, on the rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine (east of the Bastille): a bakery whose display window projects on to the sidewalk.
The display window shows off cakes and pastries. This show is remarkable because it projects –literally– from the bakery to the street: in a fashion, the cakes come to the customer.
Isn’t this inspired marketing?
One of the pleasures of strolling in Paris is being able to enjoy many desserts in bakery store windows. I eat cakes only rarely –were I to travel back in time, I’m sure my 10-year-old self would be aghast– but I enjoy them through bakery windows most every day.
Many bakeries use display windows to promote their wares, but the grammar of bakery windows is drawn mostly from jewelry stores, and banks. The bakery pictured here takes a different approach.
A band of pirates are occupying the birthplace of the marquise de Sévigné, on the place des Vosges in Paris. They took a fancy to the property last year, then took it by force. They occupy the hôtel particulier without regard for niceties like ownership or rent. Even in its current state of relative disrepair, a market rent would be measured in tens of thousands of euros per month.
Of course, even pirates have property and enjoy privacy. The Parisian pirates installed a bulletin board on the outside of the building they’ve taken. The board is a modest affair, with a plexiglas cover that offers some protection from the elements. The board announces various happenings and events and the dearth of affordable housing in Paris. Nothing on the board seems to have any commercial value; all of it could be replaced easily.
The bulletin board’s plexiglas cover is secured by a padlock. In my opinion, this may be the most perverse thing I’ve seen in years.
La goutte d’or –in English, “the golden drop” or “the drop of gold”– sounds great: rich and luxuriant.
It’s not. It’s a Paris neighborhood, on the “wrong”, non-touristy side of Montmartre. A neighborhood out of the way, near to nothing and hard to get to. A neighborhood penned in between a hill and railroad tracks.
Th golden drop refers to wine: a white wine that was once produced on the spot, long ago. The neighborhood was incorporated into Paris about 150 years ago. Back then, it was decidedly working class. It still is. But many of the workers today are African, either sub-Saharan (black) or North African (Arab, berber).
La goutte d’or was in the news recently, for a reason likely to strike outsiders as bizarre: a neighborhood picnic, what in the USA would be called a block party.
The picnic offerings might have raised eyebrows in the USA: saucisses and pinard, popular expressions for tapas and wine. (Readers will be familiar with wine. Tapas are before-dinner appetizers made from ham, referred to colloquially in French as saucisses, sausages. I’ve eaten saucisses, and they are more closely related to Spanish tapas than to German sausages.)
This being France, there are political undercurrents to the neighborhood picnic: enjoying tapas and wine on a Friday afternoon are in keeping with working-class customs (or someone’s idea of them); whereas eating pork and drinking wine are prohibited by Islam, it being understood that many residents who’ve settled in the neighborhood in the past 50 years are Muslim.
This led to all sorts of speculation. Who were the picnic organizers? Were they right-wing militants? (In the past, right-wing groups have made a point of serving pork at soup kitchens.) Were they secular militants, opposed to religious expression of any kind?
The answer seems to be: none of the above. The story seems to be richer and more interesting than anyone had thought. It merits fuller study. It would make for a fascinating book or documentary film.
Two (starting) points that I’d make:
First, I’ve long been struck by how differently dietary restrictions are viewed by Anglo-American and French culture. Especially among the young, vegetarianism seems to be common in the English-speaking world. Among Americans, not wanting to eat ham (or wanting to eat only halal or kosher food) is a preference akin to preferring low-salt or low-fat food; it is a wish easily accommodated. By contrast, many French people strike me as almost militant in their efforts to promote certain foods and drink; and to disparage those who prefer not to try certain foods.
Second, neighborhood streets in the Golden Drop have been occupied, every Friday, for Muslim prayer. Most Parisians have no idea that private groups block off entire streets, every week, as shown in the video below. Viewed in this light, the neighborhood picnic suggests reclaiming or taking back the neighborhood, more than a crusade against Islam.
There are many rules. Most have exceptions or derogations. Many can be broken, often with seeming impunity. But some must never be sidestepped.
Drawing the line between rules that can be broken, and those that must be followed always, is an enduring source of confusion to me.
I was particularly confused by a dust-up in France’s World Cup fiasco, from which the French team was eliminated in the first round.
Hamburger as World Cup trophy
One player, Nicolas Anelka, by most accounts a gifted athlete (he plays with Chelsea) but also a hothead (at ease trash-talking back to coaches or team management), let loose in the locker room with some rough talk directed against Raymond Domenech, the French team’s manager. In short order, Anelka was relieved of further duties to the team, and sent home.
As reported, Anelka’s words sound to my ears much like dialog I’d expect in a Quentin Tarantino film.
But French ears seem to have heard something different. A line seems to have been crossed. Quick, a fast food chain, and Pringles, a potato chip brand of Procter & Gamble, pulled ads that featured Anelka.
I’m confused.
A few years ago, before he wed Carla Bruni, French president Sarkozy wound up in a spot that seemed much the same. The French president, frustrated by an unfriendly crowd, singled out one heckler and let loose with a comparable stream of nasty words. Everyone seemed to have agreed then that Sarkozy showed himself to be uncouth or unpolished; but this impetuous roughness around the edges was part of the conventional wisdom that everyone knew already. After a collective “tsk, tsk”, business went on as normal.
At the end of the last World Cup, in 2006, France competed against Italy. The match was tight, and tough. Towards the end of the game, French superstar Zinedine Zidane delivered a head butt to the chest of Italian superstar Marco Materazzi. Reportedly, Materazzi had provoked Zidane with taunting. In any case, Zidane was promptly sanctioned with a red card, and sent back to the locker room. Despite striking another player during a game –violating the game’s rules and sportsmanship– Zidane’s fortunes did not suffer. Then-president Chirac said he “understood” Zidane’s act, and the French public bore him no grudges. Zidane is, today, a pitchman much in view.
What, exactly, makes Anelka’s situation so different from Sarkozy’s or Zidane’s?
Seen and noticed in Paris, on the rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine (east of the Bastille): a bakery whose display window projects on to the sidewalk.
