Ultra Confused in a Land of Wigs and Women

So today I went to drop off my computer in Arrondissement 10. Helloooo Indian food. And hooray!

Man I've been craving some ethnic food. Turns out Paris is just like San Francisco. There are different districts catering to different palates. St. Michel - Notre Dame has the gyro/kebab Greek market cornered. And Rue de Faubourg Saint Denis has kindly offered its Indian spice to life.

Double hooray that my computer is now fixed, thanks to Mr. Thomas for extracting the hair and dust that somehow found its way to my computer's fan.

Ok, so while waiting for my computer to be doctored, I wandered the precinct and naturally headed in the direction of some random beautiful monument in the middle of the street.

Followed by clothes shopping on Rue de St. Denis. Here's where confusion struck. I saw all these gowns and potentially really expensive clothes stores, but I didn't recognize any names. They all sounded designer-like, but not the big Chanel, Dior, Gucci... names. Then again, I'd never heard of Jimmy Choo til last year, so..... But what threw me was that there were women stationed at like every other shop, just standing in front of the doors who happened to be very buxom and liked to show it, along with some leg. Clearly that sets the mind wondering, but the problem was, this didn't look like a red-light district. It was just this huge street with expensive clothes for women. Why would prostitutes hang out at an outdoor mall?

So then I thought, what if this is Paris' equivalent to New York's grey market on Canal Street? And these big-boobed women are the Parisian take on the Asian walkie-talkie ladies who lead you away to dark alleys to show you their ripped off goods??? Only, I didn't see any cheap American or Parisan 20 year old girls chatting it up with them. So I checked my handy little Rick Steve's Guide Book, but no luck. Somehow Rue de St. Denis didn't make his top 10 list for Paris. I wasn’t gutsy enough to walk into any stores on my first pass by, because of the potential bling $$$$ expectation, and because of these women bouncers. But I summoned my courage and retraced my steps along the street. This time I peaked in a couple shops. Here’s the other weird thing. I have no clue what these shops are about. There were lots of boxes and a lot of loading/unloading going on, like they were factories or outlets of sorts. And there were scraps of material sometimes, like they were designing custom clothes. French designers? But the clothes weren’t outrageously priced – at least not the stores I popped into. I just don’t get it. Anyone have any info on Rue de St. Denis? Please enlighten me. I’m going to go ahead and assume the women bouncers were the retirees of Moulin Rouge :-)

Sadly, I didn’t take any pictures. I sort of thought pictures of prostitutes was not OK for my blog. So just imagine. And to help you, they weren’t very skinny, and I didn’t see anyone younger than 40. Ick. Oh, and they were all wearing nylons. Everyone here wears nylons, or tights. Granted, I know that’s kind of in style right now. Green, purple, grey…. I haven’t succumbed yet. Why would women voluntarily strap themselves into suffocating and constricting leggings by choice? They’re not on a mission, and they don’t work for Marriott. (That’s for you Jane :-) I prefer bare-legged. Call me Californian.

Wait. My confusion and wonder did not stop there. Next I roamed over to Boulevard de Strasbourg. After about 3 blocks, I pieced it together that this street’s sole purpose is to offer fake beauty helps to women. I don’t think I’ve seen more wig shops in my lifetime.This is just a taste. Most windows had 30+ options along with names to ago along with each beauty.

So that’s all well and good, but what got me, once again, was that men, yes men this time, black men too, not that that matters necessarily, were idling around on the street. And you know that feeling you get when you think you better not let them approach you or talk to you. That feeling was very present. Anyway, I let my eye stray just once and this guy came up and tried to hand me some flier. Of course I didn’t know what he said, but I looked down, and I think it was a flier for getting my nails done. What??? Why would men be loafing around on a beauty street and advertising pretty nails? Again. I’m at a loss. Please, if anyone has information on Boulevard de Strasbourg, send it my way.

PS – I closed the day by heading over to Arr. 17 which is a bit of a paradigm shift. Riche-ville! And I landed myself a 2^nd (part-time) job. Just call me Super Nanny on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. If not super, I hope I’m at least decent. This’ll be a first for me.