JPG Magazine: Stories: Photo Essay: Paris Street Fashion

Paris Street Fashion

Teenagers on the Metro Stairs, Paris 2007

By Rachel Rebibo

6 June 2008

Paris is deceptively chic – there's a protective layer of plastic that manages to guard the reputation of the world's capitol of art and fashion and culture without revealing the kinky underbelly that wears women's panties under his suit to work. The man who's perfectly tailored Lanvin suit falls impeccably to the tips of his polished loafers, shiny gold wedding ring sitting on manicured fingers, and the moment you are alone with him in the metro he leans forward to smell you hair then pretends that he didn't.

At first glance it's the same pair of skinny jeans, ballerina flats, and Chloe bag walking down every buffed avenue but eventually the façade starts to wash away with the spring rain and the "cote trash" manages to climb out of the storm drains so it can do lines with your boyfriend in the toilet.

For fifteen years I have listened to the French complain about the weather and their various physical ailments, casually pulling the packets of tissues and tubes of dissolving tablets for maladies I've never heard of out of their faux sac. A conversation about nothing can go on for hours at a café in Etienne Marcel, mindless babble mixed with full evaluation of every person that walks by, both parties pretending to be attentive even when they are both thinking about masterbating or hitting someone.

The other day I was waiting for the metro and a perfectly normal looking woman came and sat down next to me; she was carrying several shopping bags and looked rather tired. She sat upright, looking straight forward, and out of nowhere began to scream obscenities at the top of her lungs. It's not particularly unusual for crazy people to scream in the city, but this woman looked so normal and was completely composed until the moment she let loose, leaving everyone so shocked that they stopped in their tracks.

I find that teenagers are often the most authentic, especially since they have no problem humping each other in public and walking around with their love scars from previous encounters, a glimmer of pride in the eye that says, "That's right. I'm having sex now." At least they don't pretend to talk about the weather for hours.