Paul from Paris

Activia yogurt

Danone (known in the USA as Dannon) makes high-quality yogurts. It’s a big company that plays by the rules.

I was surprised to read, buried in a press release on a promising first quarter, that Danone had withdrawn requests pending before a European authority to make health claims about two of its dairy products.

EFSA is the European Food Safety Authority. EFSA “was set up in January 2002, following a series of food crises in the late 1990s” as an impartial, pan-EU regulatory agency. One of EFSA’s missions is to review nutrition and health claims.

Danone is committed to “nutriceuticals” or “probiotics” and has a history of making claims about health, or that suggest healthiness:

Bio brand yogurt

• A line of dairy products was long named “Bio”. In French, “bio” is shorthand for “organic”. Danone’s product was not organic. The producer said the name was derived from “bios”, Greek for “life”. But why wasn’t the name then “bios”, and why was the product name was displayed on a green background?
• Danone subsequently chose a new name for the Bio line: “Activia”. In the name, there’s “via”, “life”. Much of the product advertising has centered around “feeling better” and improved digestion.
• Danone also introduced “Actimel”, a drinkable fermented milk product. Actimel is compared to a “fortifier” in French product advertising.

Actimel product

Danone has withdrawn its applications to make health claims about Activia and Actimel before the EFSA because, the company says, the regulator’s criteria are “unclear”.

I’m torn: I’d prefer straightfoward health claims to veiled allusions (which is how I’ve understood Danone’s past product advertising), but I’d want a European regulator to apply strict rules on health claims (such as vegetable sterols that help manage cholesterol). I’m not sure whether or how the two aims can be reconciled.

The postman brought a curious document in my mail.

It was from a company called Pages Jaunes 712 (in French “pages jaunes” means “yellow pages”).

It looked like an invoice. It mentioned (in boldface type) a total payable amount of €297.80, indicated (in ALL CAPS) instructions to make payment by check, together with a payment stub (much as you would receive from an electric or other utility), in a helpfully provided return envelope.

Did I send money? No.

I never contracted with Pages Jaunes 712. I’ve never contacted them; and before this mailing, they had never contacted me.

How did Pages Jaunes 712 choose me? I set up a company earlier this year, creating a public record that Pages Jaunes 712 consulted. (I’ve copied the mailing and attached it to this post, after redacting this information, less from privacy concerns than from unease about copycat mailers.)

What relation does Pages Jaunes 712 have with Pages Jaunes, the publicly traded company that publishes the yellow pages directory in France?

So far as I can tell, none whatsoever. The company that solicited payment asked that I send a check to a Paris address that acts as a domiciliary for many companies. It is not Paris-based, but registered in Nice, on the French Riviera. It’s actually called Webtel (although, like Pages Jaunes 712, this name may suggest connotations that are unreal), its registered offices are at 5 rue Victor Hugo in Menton (another domiciliary service), and its manager is Maximiliano Burgisi, at Via Giovanni XXIII N° 1 in Vallebona, an Italian town across the border from Nice (as reported in the company filing published in the 11 December 2009 edition of the Tribune Bulletin Côte d’Azur).

I’ve asked the authorities to look into the matter. From forums on the web, I do not seem to be alone. I’m still a bit surprised, because in this case, spam:

• was not web-based. It was physical, demonstrated sophisticated production values, and reached me by the postal service.
• was not sent from Nigeria or a Tijuana mail-order pharmacy. It instead came from a French company that sought a reply to a Paris address. Its authors strove to suggest legitimacy.

Here are two campaigns that caught my eye:

Burberry features Emma Watson, an actress best known for her role in the Harry Potter series of films. Ms. Watson turns 20 this year. I think of Burberry as an older brand, vaguely matronly. This campaign changes my mind.

Dior‘s Eau Sauvage cologne for men features a handsome young man in its campaign. The handsome man happens to be Alain Delon, a French actor who turns 75 this year. I like this campaign because it makes me think of Eau Sauvage, like Alain Delon, as a living legend. It turns out that the photo of Delon dates from 1966, the year that Eau Sauvage was launched. If you’re under 30, chances are that you haven’t a clue who the man in the campaign is.

Seen in the window of a pharmacy while walking in my Paris neighborhood: breasts, actually a breast-and-a-half.

It’s the visual behind an advertisement for a new cream, Buste, which for less than €20 per tube promises “a firm young chest”.

The photo is really big –maybe three times life size– and I’m sure that male passersby noticed. Actually, it would be hard not to notice the display.

Two questions passed through my mind.

First, do the breasts and the hand below to the same person? Or was there a breast model, plus a hand model?

Second, what ingredient could achieve the promised goal?

I tried to look up the manufacturer; what I found puzzled me. Buste is manufactured by a Belgian company, DexSil Labs, whose logo suggests a man being drawn and quartered, and whose web site is under construction (“Please come back later.”). DexSil Labs would seem to have no relation to Dexsil, a US-based manufacturer of portable tests and instruments to detect and quantify contaminants in soil, water, and oil.

The entire DexSil product line, including Buste, revolves around one key ingredient: silicon. How fascinating! I don’t know what to think: computer chips? meteorites? breast implants (sans the implant or the silicone, itself made from silicon)?

Seen in the window of a shop in my neighborhood, Loft Design By:

It looks like a cream-colored dress shirt. But it’s not. It actually a model of a dress shirt, made from kraft paper, which is usually used for envelopes or packaging. It’s fully detailed, with a carefully constructed collar and sleeves; the buttons appear to be genuine.