THE WEDDING PLANNER

As a grown woman able to get dressed by herself; have children by herself; say merde to her parents; and handle illnesses, bosses, daily injustices, and a thousand other responsibilities by herself, the last thing she wants to deal with is a crazy, hysterical, and frustrated wedding planner trying to tell her how to organize her wedding.

—Darling, are you sure December twenty-seventh is a good date to get married?

—Yes! Our wedding will be the one fun evening we spend with your family during the Christmas holidays …

—Well, perhaps it’s not such a bad idea.

THE BACHELORETTE PARTY

In French, we still refer to this as l’enterrement de vie de jeune fille— translated literally as “a maiden’s funeral,” except that a Parisienne hasn’t been a maiden for quite some time. So it is out of the question to organize some sunny weekend at the beach, with initiation rites, photo ops, and limousines. Instead she’ll invite only her closest friends—both men and women, because her best friend might be her ex—to a lovely old-school brasserie. There everyone will drink champagne as they eat their blood sausage (only AAAAA—see Fifteen Words You Need). Basta.

—Let’s raise a glass to the future bride!

—Tchin-Tchin!

—Hey … why are you getting married anyway?

—Because in the event I want to get a divorce one day, it’s a lot easier.

THE WEDDING DRESS

The poufy meringue look is out of the question. She will get married in either a black or navy blue tuxedo. Or in a vintage couture dress. Or else, in the middle of winter, in a gigantic white fur coat. She knows exactly what she wants, and certainly won’t monopolize her friends’ precious time by dragging them to every bridal shop in town.

—That one really suits you. Is it for a special occasion?

—Just for my wedding.

THE WEDDING RING

The Parisienne dreams of a simple ring, no diamonds, nothing flashy. A family ring with sentimental value will do just fine. Or a copper band, bought for a pittance on a road trip with her boyfriend. She doesn’t want to encumber her silhouette with a heavy and expensive rock.

—You’re not going to wear your wedding ring every day?

—Are you kidding? What next—I’ll have to take my husband’s name, too? Let’s not get carried away here.

—So why are you getting married?

—I can’t wait to be able to answer the phone and say, “Hold on, I’ll get my husband.”

THE WEDDING LOCATION

Paris, of course. First at the city hall in her arrondissement, and then at a place of worship, if she’s religious. The champagne toast will take place at a little bistro that she knows well, on one of the capital’s lovely squares. No castles in Lorraine or rented manors in Burgundy. At night, everyone will head over to her apartment, which will be full of white flowers for the occasion. Friends and friends of friends will joyously wreck the place in celebration. Sketches, songs, video projections, and other rituals are absolutely forbidden. That day, everything will be improvised—even the speeches.

THE GUESTS

She invites only people she wants to see—which comes down to no more than about twenty guests. First of all, she doesn’t have the means to feed everyone, and doesn’t see why she should ask her parents or in-laws to pay for a party. And so much the better, because that way she doesn’t feel obliged to invite her in-laws or her parents. And as she hasn’t even told them …

—You got married? I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!

—Did you invite your parents when you and dad got married?

—They had already passed away!

—You see, that’s why I didn’t invite you. You always bring everything back to your own suffering.

THE HONEYMOON

Instead of a traditional honeymoon trip, the Parisienne will treat herself to a night in one of Paris’s most luxurious hotels—the Pavillon de la Reine, for example, overlooking the Place des Vosges. Her secret wedding dress is actually the silk lingerie she bought for herself. The next day she’ll walk home barefoot, like a true Cinderella, hand in hand with her Prince Charming.

SEPARATE BEDROOMS

Couples now often don’t choose to sleep in separate bedrooms. A few decades ago, our grandparents still abided by this tradition: they slept separated by thick walls and a touch of modesty. When we were younger this habit seemed archaic, old-fashioned, and downright strange. But we’ve since grown up and made two discoveries: First, that a couple sometimes needs a little space. And also, that today’s prohibitive rents keep us from resurrecting this two-bedroom idea. “Separate bedrooms” no longer means to create two distinct spaces for him and her in one apartment, but rather to sleep apart regularly enough in different locations that you start to miss each other. And so sometimes we force the situation. We take off to the countryside on a whim or stay later than expected at a girlfriend’s house chatting the night away and then decide to stay over on the spur of the moment. Or we might even concoct a business trip, creating a work commitment that separates us for a while and then brings us closer together, an antidote to routine. All for the pleasure of that phone call and hearing him say, “It’s cold, without you.”

“Trust firmly in your luck, cling to your happiness and dare to take risks. They will see you and learn to accept you.”

—RENÉ CHAR,THE DAWN-BREAKERS

SCENES FROM PARISIAN LIFE: TAKE 4

PARISIAN TIPS

Date: 2016-01-14; view: 790