Paris
Versailles lived again at haute couture week, as designers paraded their let-them-eat-cake creations, hand-stitched with gilt embroidery and trimmed with guiltless fur — frousfrous that no real women can wear and few can afford.
On Friday night, Christian Lacroix offered his homage to Elsa Schiaparelli, but even high fashion couldn't lift Paris from its low mood. "Liberte, egalite, morosite," Le Monde declared.
Joie de vivre has given way to gaze de navel. The French are so busy wallowing in their existential estrangement — a state of mind Camus described as "Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?" — that they don't even have the energy to be rude. And now that they're smoking electronic cigarettes, their ennui doesn't look as cool. It's not that they've lost faith in their own superiority. They've lost faith that the rest of the world sees it. The whole country has, as Catherine Deneuve says of her crazy blue moods, une araignee au plafond — a spider on the ceiling.
On Place Vendome, Christian Lacroix was dispatching models in black crepe chiffon peplum basques — whatever they are — while on Avenue Hoche, Lacroix's dentist was bemoaning the black crepe City of Lights. Holding a cigarette in a waiting room filled with Picasso-print pillows, Dr. Gerard Armandou told how his patients, always prone to pessimism, are even more filled with malheur now as they sit in his chair contemplating tous les problemes, including "not going anymore on holiday to Egypt."
"Cocteau said the French are Italians in a bad mood, but now there is more morosity," he said. "We are connecting with nostalgia. What is nostalgia? Where the present doesn't agree with the hope that you got in the past."
He said there are widening chasms between sectors of French society — old and young, natives and immigrants, "smokers and nonsmokers, homosexuals and non-homosexuals."
"Enter conflict, where before there was none," he said.
The French have higher rates of taking antidepressants and committing suicide than most other Europeans. And while arguing about how to move forward, they feel trapped in the past, weighed down by high unemployment and low hopes, the onerous taxes that drove Gerard Depardieu to flee, conflicts with immigrants, political scandals, Hollande fatigue, Germany envy, economic stagnation, a hyperelitist education system, and cold, rainy weather that ruined the famous Paris spring. Instead of confronting the questions at hand — how to adjust to globalization and compete with the Chinese — the French are grieving their lost stature and glorious past, stretching back to the colonial empire, the Lumieres, the revolution, Napoleon, even the Jazz Age writers and artists. They're stuck in a sentimental time warp as vivid as the one depicted in Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris."
"In 1945, France was on the losers' side, but this reality has long been masked by the political speeches of Gen. de Gaulle and Francois Mitterrand: They both maintained, in their own way, the idea that it remained a great power promised to an exceptional destiny," the historian Christophe Prochasson told Le Monde. "After they left office, the French continued to live on that belief." Today, he added, this illusion is disappearing gradually and "France is a country in mourning." What is lacking now in France, he said, is the music of history, "the capacity to contemplate tomorrows that sing."
A 2011 BVA-Gallup poll conducted in 51 countries revealed that the French were even more pessimistic than Afghans and Iraqis. As the sociologist Francois Dubet told Le Monde, "If France doesn't get all the Olympic medals and all the Nobel Prizes, the French consider it hopeless."
Though everyone else flocks here to be dazzled, the French are less satisfied than the average European. Claudia Senik, a professor at the Paris School of Economics and the Sorbonne, calls it "a cultural trait" linked not only to circumstance but to values, beliefs and behaviors passed from generation to generation, and exacerbated by madly competitive schools that are hard on self-esteem. In others words, unhappiness has been bred into the French bone. When French citizens emigrate, she said, they take their tristesse with them.
"Our happiness function is a little deficient," she said over espresso at Le Rostand across from the Jardin du Luxembourg. "It's really in the French genome."