Becoming Parisienne
By: Philippa Hughes
Tags: Travel, Identity, American, Travel Writing, Paris

I was walking down the hill along rue des Martyrs the other day when a French man asked me for directions. He spoke quickly so I couldn’t understand what he was asking. I was late meeting a new friend for coffee across the river on the Left Bank so instead of asking him to repeat himself, I shrugged my shoulders and replied, “Je’n sais pas, désolé.” I don’t know, sorry. I scurried along with a smile, pleased that he must have thought I was a Parisienne who knew her way around the city.

After the coffee date, I walked around the Left Bank and other streets near where I’d lived near the Musée d’Orsay before moving to Montmartre a month ago. I’d walked through the Tuileries or across the Pont des Arts almost every day when I lived across the river. Nowadays, I rarely come down the hill much less cross the river. Like city denizens everywhere, Parisians tend to stick to their neighborhoods and have strong opinions about which neighborhood is the best. Each is completely different from the other and I love them all. Nothing beats the awe I feel of walking along the Seine and around central Paris, though, and seeing the grand structures that represent the romantic’s idea of this city.

The next evening, I was walking back up the rue des Martyrs when a tourist couple speaking French with an accent I could not discern asked me which way to the Moulin Rouges. I pointed down the hill and explained that they should turn right at the light. Even tourists thought I looked Parisian!

I have been observing Parisians for nearly three months and have adopted many of the superficial indicators of Parisian-ness. The first stage in my transformation was to ask for French-girl fringe, or bangs as we Americans say, at the hair salon. The stylist studied my face and asked, “Have you ever had la frange?” I’d worn short bangs as a child, but never as an adult. He consulted with the guy who’d touched up my roots to make sure the bangs would work and then started snipping.

The second stage of my transformation has been to walk with determination and never cede the sidewalk. For the first two months, I would politely step aside on the narrow sidewalks, squeezing myself against a building or stepping into the street. Parisians never give way. After a while, I began walking as if no one else shared the sidewalk.

The third stage of my transformation has been to dress like a Parisienne. Mixing one expensive item with less expensive clothes like plain jeans, layering with a trench coat that can be plain or a statement piece, tucking a cashmere sweater into the front of billowy patterned pants, fashionable comfy sneakers.

Despite the reputation Paris has for being a fashion capital and the center of haute couture, Parisiennes do not dress in trendy styles. Americans are more likely to dress in ways that express their personal style, whereas Parisiennes dress to look Parisienne. That’s why multiple books have been written about how to dress like a Parisian but I can’t think of one book on how to dress like an American.

Paris is also known for its haute cuisine and yet, French people do not frequent Michelin star restaurants. In this way I have been a little less French. As soon as I arrived, I subscribed to numerous newsletters sharing the hottest and best restaurants in the city and have been methodically trying each one, usually at lunch when it’s less busy and a little less expensive.

French people eat at their favorite little corner café or restaurant. I will sorely miss being able to sit at my corner café with a glass of wine and chatting for as long as I want. In the states, I am made to feel guilty if I don’t promise to order food and then I am chased out after I have finished eating the obligatory snack that I didn’t even want in the first place.

Some friends were in town from DC a couple weeks ago and staying at a hotel in the 15th arrondissement, a residential area near the Eiffel Tower. I found a neighborhood restaurant in the style of the bouillon, a traditional, spacious restaurant that usually serves traditional French cuisine quickly and at affordable prices. This particular rendition of the bouillon had turned bougie and was more expensive than the traditional ones I had visited in other parts of Paris, but the space was large and beautiful and the menu offered classic fare.

I leave Paris on Thursday. My transformation is not complete, though, so I reckon I’ll have to return in the spring when the visa rules allow it.