The Pleasure Correlation

There's an American Golden Mean:
for every church in town, there are a fixed
number of bars, certain denominations
stacking the equation.

I think the number is 6.

In a typical French village, this theorem breaks
down. There may be one church, one local
watering hole. Children go to the store to get
wine for the table, marc to correct Papa's
morning coffee.

A more reliable rule for measuring
the proportion of pleasure might be
setting up the ratio of chocolateries
and boulangeries to every lingerie shop,
roughly 2:1. Etam, Darjeeling —
all have the ring of high tea on offer.

French men are touchy about these matters.
And feely. In fact, nearly an equal number
of men can be seen at any time shopping
for the right je ne sais quoi for madame as women.
On Christmas Eve, that number changes
by a factor of 1.5, men tipping the scales
by their sheer panic: sleeping chaste
after Midnight Mass is no fault but one's own.

I witnessed a man a Penney's, meek
in the women's lingerie, looking for something
as respectable as an anniversary gift. Hurriedly
surveying the goods. Asking the saleswoman
to hold up the nightgown for view.

At Princesse Tam-Tam the silk shimmies
through the fingers of a fond boyfriend,
a day's wages — three days' wages —
about to go up in flame.

— P.Q. Perron