100 | August• 2017
She appears to be waiting for some-
one. No-one comes. Across the pas-
sage, in a dealership of rare stamps,
the elderly proprietor sits alone at his
register, nursing a steaktartareand a
red wine. He may be a widower, unac-
customed to solitude – or he may have
dined this way for 65 years.
IF THE BOULEVARD CAFÉSand the
galleries represent two of the great
urban theaters of theville spectacle,
the city of entertainment, as Paris was
known, the third is the department
store, what Balzac called “the great
of erotic nudes. By the time I swivel
back, they’ve set their books down
and are making small talk. By the time
I leave, they’re laughing.
Each of Paris’s galleries, I’ll dis-
cover, has its own stories, only half-
told by the time I pass through. In the
Passage des Panoramas – famous, in
Zola’s novelNana, as the place where
his titular courtesan meets her lovers
- the story may be missed opportuni-
ties. I spy a woman of a certain age,
overdressed in blue chiffon, sitting
straight-backed on the terrace of a
brasserie with a 19th-century facade.
In Paris, a kiss is more than just a kiss – it’s a shared moment in the city’s story