Foreign Parts

À AIMER: les photographes de mode

Paris’s fashion photographers provided comic relief yesterday at the Elie Saab haute couture show for spring/summer 09.  As is usual at these events, they were en forme, running from celebrity to celebrity in order to get the publicity shots that earn them their bread and butter.

That’s actress Michelle Yeoh they’re photographing; the second she walked into le Palais de Tokyo, where the défilé was held, they descended upon her, yelling “Meeshel, Meeshel, Meeshel!”  Dita von Teese arrived next, followed by Kanye West and Mischa Barton, who created quite a stir.

Between the catwalk, which attendees are forbidden to stand on, and Ms. Barton’s front-row seat, there was not nearly enough room for the twenty or so photographers who were trying to take her picture.  At one point a dispute broke out, some shoving occurred et voilà: several guys ended up on their bottoms on the catwalk.  For one of them, the fall was evidently worth it because it afforded him the opportunity to snap a shot up Ms. Barton’s dress — a shot that was, just a few hours later, available for viewing all over the internet.  

À DÉTESTER: les soldes d'hiver

Last year I said that I loved les soldes, France’s biannual sales period.  This year I’m calling it something à détester.  Why? Because the government-sanctioned winter sales period begins after the holidays, once everyone has exchanged gifts and depleted their savings accounts.  Because every year I swear that I will skip the event entirely, that I won’t be duped by 50 percent off items that were originally marked up 250 percent.  Because then I always go anyway, bundling up for the cold streets and then sweating indoors as packs of rabid teenagers elbow me for the pair of boots that I wanted back in September, when they were still in style.  Because after I shove my way out of the stores, exhausted but somehow intact, and at last reach that happy moment in which I review my purchases and congratulate myself on the amount of money I’ve saved, some 19-year-old kid from the Sorbonne sneers at my shopping bags and calls me a capitalist.

For those readers who are prepared to accept verbal and physical assault in the name of a Parisian bargain, this year’s sales period begins Wednesday at 8 a.m. and ends when the stores close on February 10.  Bring your credit card and a pair of steel-toe boots.  You’ll need both.