The Secret Maths of Bad French Taste

Whereas Carrie Bradshaw fell in Dior, I the Paris Poodle had Dior fall on me! You may think this is the better way round – a luxurious shower of quilted handbags and Diorette rings falling into my outstretched hands! But no. Dior, in my case, was a 6ft Amazonian check out worker at Monoprix who happened to trip up onto me in the cheese aisle.

The glamour of it. I know. With her stock of chevre (goats cheese) flying partout (everywhere) and my jus d’orange splattering colourfully on the floor this was one Paris moment this Poodle is keen to forget –how I felt for Carrie Bradshaw. Yet, at least when she fell over, her vintage clutch fell open like a Pandora’s box of lipsticks and credit cards; when Dior fell, her goats cheese smeared onto my coat in the process. I’m sure Carrie would have felt worse for me. I detest goats cheese.

It’s clear from this humiliating incident that:

Carrie Bradshaw + Fall in Dior x Credit Cards = Amusing albeit embarrassing anecdote

But

(Dior ÷ Monoprix checkout girl) + Goats Cheese x Paris Poodle = Messy supermarket disaster with no happy ending

This mortifying episode got the Poodle pondering, how ironically, the French who are soooo renowned for their good taste, elegance and plain smug sophistication can simultaneously do things in exceedingly bad taste. Like call their someone Dior as a prenom. Or even Chanel – another common mistake – I believe I also saw a vendeuse (shop assistant) called Fanta?! No joke.

At the end of all this I do feel worst for Dior (and especially poor Fanta too). After all, having a name such as Dior can only make one feel depressed if your circumstances are anything less than riches, finesse and fortune. Whilst I imagine being called Fanta can only be a negative equation.

Fanta = Lifelong hatred of parents

Paris Hilton’s Chihuahua’s are all named after designers in true tongue in cheek Paris fashion.

Chihuahua x Celebrity owner Paris Hilton + Prada = Cute puppy dog

However, actually being a person named Dior, living in Paris, and working at a Supermarket? That’s just not a kitsch combination.

Aside from such unfortunate names..the Poodle has noted other bad Paris choices which were presumably chosen with tasteful intentions, but how very wrong they were...

For example:

This week alone, I have encountered 3 women wearing real fur. I honestly don’t know how they get around. If this were London they would all 3 of them be beaten to a pulp by the Knightsbridge Harrods protestors. However, it seems that fur, here in Paris, where it isn’t even that cold, and where there is an infinite choice of shops, that fur is still acceptable. I mean! Uniqlo has just opened a branch here for goodness sake – even their awful Parkas are more tasteful!

I have also found that the scrunchie (cue Carrie Bradshaw/Burger argument) is also still an acceptable hair accessory here. Provocatively placed around pony tails and half pony tails, proudly wrapped around buns and semi chignons, I have been flabbergasted to see the scrunchie in shades of sparkling pink, velvet black and 90’s inspired floral print. I even saw one scrunchie teamed with a fur coat – that was TOO much! Je ne sais pas pourquoi the French have failed to throw out their scrunchies but they continue to exist. As soon as I find the offending shops that continue to sell these I will make a formal complaint!