I'll take (a) Manhattan...

Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité

Face up, I laid sprawled out diagonally across the sidewalk of Avenue Kleber with a twelve year old Louis Vuitton (pre-welovesprouse) tote in my left hand and a Jack Spade messenger bag twisted around my neck, and I thought about the French mottos “Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, and It’s not possible”….

It was my last week in France, and I had many things to accomplish before leaving. I started marching up the Avenue at a pace that would be more than appropriate in New York, but slightly aggressive in Paris, particularly in the 16th. Rather than kick the woman’s poodle walking ahead of me, I stepped off the sidewalk into the street to bypass her. I misjudged the stoop stepping back up and crashed to the pavement with a grace that can only be described as American. This fraternity of Parisians universally ignored me as they elegantly stepped over me leaving me in silence. The poodle had the well-bred manners not to lick my face.

This Fraternity seemed to have an unwritten, but frequently spoken motto “It’s not possible”. Was I starting to hear this phrase more than Bonjour? Friends had taken me to a fashionable and tasty restaurant called 6 New York a few nights before, and I was so thirsty for a martini. When the waiter arrived at the table I smiled and asked for a Manhattan as I stared gleefully at the bar. “It’s not possible” and he then instantly disappeared offering me no alternatives. Granted, he was probably scared as the sound of me speaking French sounds like Chewbacca the Wookiee being electrocuted, but at least I was smiling…

Earlier that day at the local café I asked the barista if his fruit smoothies were made fresh. “Mais, oui”. Wonderful, could I have the strawberry smoothie on the menu, and could he add one of the bananas sitting on the basket in front of me? “It’s not possible”. But, why not? “Because we only have strawberry smoothies on the menu, not strawberry-banana.” But, I can pay for Banana as well. “It’s not possible”. Hmmm…this wasn’t Burger King, so I guess I didn’t have the liberté to have it my way…

During that same weekend, my friend and I went to the famous fashion haunt, Mathis Bar which is one of my favorite places in Paris. The décor feels like it was created by Kenzo who might have been inspired by a 1920’s Bordello. The music is fantastic and the scene of people is always over the top. We squeezed past recognizable fashion models fresh from rehab and headed directly to the bar with eager smiles in anticipation of a martini. We said good evening to the bartender and asked for a vodka martini and a Cosmo. We really offended this one because he screamed “It’s not possible”. Ignoring us, he shuffled to the other side of the bar to stare at some void in the left corner of the room.

Egalite? I pondered. Was everyone treated equally as badly in this Fraternity or were we not part of the Fraternity?

My companion and I began to sit down at the two vacant barstools to allow the bartender’s hormonal flash to pass, and this immediately caught his attention. “You cannot sit here!” Why I asked? “It’s not possible!”

Somehow the two bottles of wine that my friend and I shared at dinner had made me very lucid. Within milliseconds, I was summarizing one of two strategies in dealing with this assault on our fun night out. I could use diplomacy to diffuse this bitter little man wearing some sort of Danskin leotard apparently stolen from his younger sister’s closet and made into a makeshift shirt. Or, I could engage him in a New York style confrontation that would result in one of us leaving the bar in tears. What would Obama do?

I chose diplomacy. I smiled and asked “are you having a good night?” Stung, he had not anticipated this. “No, it’s not such a good night”. Well, you could make it a great night for us if you will make us two Grey Goose sodas with limes. He began to pick up the vodka bottle and as his pupils gazed into another corner of the room, the whites of his eyes gestured for us to take the stools. We had passed the test! He liked us, and we felt we were part of the fraternity!

Being in France for over a month, I did start to understand the mottos. I didn’t see any Burger Kings anywhere in the city, and I couldn’t have it my way. The architecture, the culture, the elegance of Paris works because there is a consistency. “It’s not possible” was really a collective resistance to changing too quickly and a preservation of the integrity of the collective society. This City had maintained its elegance because it did not change too quickly and was not subject to the whims of individuals. And, hadn’t I retreated to Paris from the New Economy because of this elegance and slightly slower pace?

Paris had given me the reprieve I needed…time to wander, ponder and write. I was becoming eager to return so I could launch the new website for Mr. Gatsby’s Travel Club. I also understood that I was missing New York where everything is possible!

I’ll take Manhattan…(but I still love Paris and these strong-willed, difficult French!!!)