CHAPTER SEVEN

The Art of the French Flirt

(And Why Conversation Matters)

When she raises her eyelids, it’s as if she were taking off all her clothes.

—COLETTE

WHENEVER I TALK TO AMERICAN FRIENDS about flirting, they seem to get a little nervous. Men get particularly nervous. I think this is because they imagine that flirting is a kind of sexual promise and if unfulfilled, they interpret this perceived promise as no more than a big (and extremely disappointing) tease. In fact, they actually feel they’ve been tricked!

On the other hand, American women want to know, How do I get the guy? A French woman will tell you that this is actually the wrong question. This idea of getting the guy is what will keep the guy away. Plus, it turns you into the one who is pursuing him, and it’s much better when he’s pursuing you. Truthfully, we would all be much better served by slowing down and enjoying life and love and friendship and sparkling conversation and being alive to possibility and beauty in the world.

And this is why flirting and charm are so important to French life. It’s an elegant way of getting to “yes” without even asking the question. And it’s a way of sharing a bit of sunshine with the world.

• • •

EARLY ON IN MY STUDIES with Madame M., she taught me that the French word for “flirt” comes from conter fleurette, which basically means to talk sweetly and to have a nice repartee. We might translate this as “sweet talk,” but the concept of flirting is so much more subtle and complex in French. When it comes to the French flirt, there is no goal or purpose other than to bring a little charm into your daily life. French women know that when we have developed our sense of charm, along with poise, intelligence, grace, and an appreciation for the world around us, well, then we are irresistible.

Charm and wit are the cornerstones of French flirting.

French women “flirt” (talk about the flowers) all the time with everyone. French women will often make a comment about the weather or what cute shoes you’re wearing or perhaps ask a question that’s relevant to the moment. They might complain (this is actually a favorite pastime for the French). It’s a matter of being friendly and interested in life, getting into conversations with people, and being present to the moment. Charm and wit are the cornerstones of French flirting. French women have told me that you simply can’t prepare witty bon mots in advance of conversation, but rather you must stay on your toes and really listen, then react quickly, using your intellect. It’s a little game of wits, and it’s light and fun.

• • •

AND THERE’S ANOTHER BENEFIT from this—you might be conter fleurette with an old lady or a child, and a gentleman might overhear you and join in on the conversation. He feels safe this way. He is not harassing anyone. He is not “coming on.” But rather, he is simply being interested.

A common mistake most American women make is that we try to flirt alone with a man. This really doesn’t work to our advantage. It makes everyone a little nervous and, yes, this can give a guy the wrong idea. French women do things in groups—it’s the way the old-fashioned idea of the chaperone has evolved in Europe. True, they don’t have Jane Austen–style chaperones, but they do tend to go out in groups, and, of course, dinner parties are preferred over dating in France. Community events and parties are a wonderful way to keep your intentions mysterious. No one suspects you might have a crush on one particular man. That is your own delicious secret, to be savored and explored in your own sweet time. There are no agendas in this scenario, only pleasure and charm.

MASTER FLIRT

Now when I look back at my lessons with Madame M., I realize she was a PhD in the art of French flirtation, if there were such a thing. Truly, she was a master flirt. Before I even arrived at her front door, I could feel myself being seduced. I approached her house by driving down the long, winding path under a canopy of old trees, my car tires crunching noisily over the autumn leaves. I parked my car and then approached her door and thumped three times on the dragonfly door knocker. Sometimes she would open the door quickly and smile as if she were surprised to see me (even though she had been expecting me ten minutes ago), but then greet me like a long-lost friend, with a bisou on each cheek, and then she would say something sweet about my hair or my scarf or my bag.

Madame M. was always dressed beautifully. She always wore a pretty scarf and she always wore her signature Guerlain perfume. After I got to know Madame M. a little better, she would often hide behind the door, let it open slowly, and then when I called her name and pushed the door, she would peep out and say, “Boo!”

I had to laugh. Every single time she did this, I started laughing. It was just the silliest and funniest thing ever! You would think the two of us were about ten years old.

And this was just the beginning of the flirtation that went in my lessons. She would bring out books with lovely photographs of France and she often served delicious little treats—fresh strawberries that we could dip in finely granulated sugar. In the winter, she served hot tea and we would read the little messages on the tea bags and then translate them into French. Serious stuff, this learning French!

In the summer, she served iced tea that we stirred with her family’s silver iced tea spoons—the ones with really skinny straws and the tiny heart on the end that served as a spoon. (You see, even her silverware was flirtatious!)

Madame M. taught me how to modulate my voice for full effect, when to whisper, and when to say nothing at all. Oh, and every once in a while, she would say something a little cheeky and then she’d wink at me. You can see why I fell under her spell. And if you deconstruct my lessons, you will see that she employed the classic art of seduction, following all these timeworn principles:

Secrecy. Yes, there was the routine of hiding behind the door, but more than this, Madame M. never let me see the mysterious private rooms of her house, where she apparently had thousands of books.

Surprise. She had a way of hiding behind the door and then suddenly peeking out, as well as the messages on the Yogi Tea.

Sound. Her voice was a musical instrument and a delight to the ears.

Smile. She used her smile to wonderful effect. Sometimes she would withhold her smile and even pretend to be quite strict. At other times, she would slay me with her sweet smile.

Style. She dressed beautifully in elegant skirts and sweaters, always with a pretty scarf tied around her neck. She always wore a bit of plum lipstick.

I do believe that this sly sense of formality might just be a cornerstone of French flirtation. You see, if we are always casual, if we are overly friendly and open and much too quick to completely reveal ourselves and give away all our secrets—well, then we have no where to go in terms of the slow dance to intimacy. If we are “intimate” all the time, then how do we create a burning desire to truly know us better? And ultimately, the slow burn is so much more desirable, n’est-ce pas?

FLIRTING WITH THE ÉCLAIR

I am walking down Rue de l’Ancienne-Comédie and I pass Café Procope, the restaurant where I had lunch with Carol Gillott a few weeks earlier. It’s the oldest restaurant in Paris, founded in 1686, and it’s always busy. It’s really bustling today, and I have to scoot around a small group of customers standing outside, whispering in French, looking at the menu, then whispering some more. I continue down the street and just as I am about to turn onto Rue Dauphine, I come upon a most intriguing vision. I am standing in front of L’Éclair de Génie, and I am confused. The décor is very modern—not at all what you’d imagine a Parisian pâtisserie to look like. The color scheme is bright yellow, and honestly, when I first look inside the shop, it doesn’t even register for me that this shop sells éclairs. In fact, as I watch the interaction between a nice looking man in a suit and tie and a young salesgirl, I imagine the store sells fine watches.

I step a little closer to the window and discreetly look inside. The éclairs are lined up in a perfect row as if they are expensive jewelry in a glass case. The man leans over and points to one of the delicacies. The shop girl pulls out a tray and discusses the virtues of the éclairs in question. This goes on for quite some time.

Each individual éclair is a work of art, beautifully arranged to showcase its unique appeal. Oh, and they’re small and elegant, topped with luscious-looking berries and colorful bonbons.

I imagine they must be very expensive. And the most important part of enjoying one of these éclairs is the experience of coming into the store and talking with the store clerk and learning all about the assorted varieties, and the process of selecting the éclair. How could you then go home—or worse yet, walk out on the street—unwrap your prized éclair, and gobble it down? You know all about this éclair! You’ve discovered this éclair’s history, its special appeal. You are now familiar with the nuances of this éclair. You selected this éclair out of all the other charming and delicious-looking éclairs. Mon dieu, it’s as if you’re in a relationship with this beautiful little pastry!

• • •

ALL RIGHT, STAY WITH ME here.

I think buying an éclair in Paris offers us an opportunity to learn all about the art of Parisian charm, and even more about how the French flirt.

Yes, the man and the woman are flirting. Don’t ask me how I know this, but I know it, and besides, this is Paris. However, they are not talking about anything personal, but rather they are talking—passionately, I might add—about éclairs. The pair of them are having a private moment in a public space. This adds a lovely tension. They are both dressed up, so there’s a feeling of formality. The man is wearing a suit and the shopgirl is wearing her official L’Éclair de Génie uniform. A large counter filled with luscious little éclairs separates them, but not too much. They are alone, but another customer could walk in on them at any moment. And of course, there’s that middle-aged American woman with her camera and Moleskine notebook, trying not to be noticed as she hides at the far corner of the shop window. So you see, you have this delicious tension between public and private space. In addition to this, there is limited time. He can’t stay in that shop forever, but certainly, the French take their time when it comes to selecting a dessert—and this makes sense because this particular dessert is most assuredly a work of art.

And not only that, but this éclair has provided a theatrical opportunity for the handsome man to tell an amusing story when he brings his prized box of éclairs (yes, he’s buying a box of them) with him to that dinner party he will inevitably attend that evening. Ah, the stories he’ll tell, and how he’ll show off his newfound knowledge about éclairs and delight everyone in attendance with his brilliant insights.

That’s how the French flirt.

CHAMBRE BLEUE

Paris was not always the civilized city that we know it to be today. In fact, there was a time during the early part of the seventeenth century when women were not always appreciated for their femininity and beauty and the streets were dangerous. During this time, Catherine de Vivonne, the Marquise de Rambouillet, founded the Blue Room, or Chambre Bleue, and Paris (and the world) changed forever. This salon elevated the art of conversation and flirtation to the highest standards. The salon included members of the royal court, as well as artists, writers, and philosophers, where important topics such as manners, poetry, literature, dance and games could be discussed through lively banter. For ladies, the salon was an opportunity to be seen and to flirt. In this heated environment, a woman’s intellect and education became just as important as her style of dress and beauty. While women had very little public power in the seventeenth century, Chambre Bleue gave them quite a bit of power. In fact, you might call the salons the first organized charm school, because it was here that French women learned how to dress beautifully, the art of discourse, how to be graceful and witty, and how to flirt intelligently.

This is how France evolved into a culture where a woman’s intellect is considered just as powerful as her beauty. This is how you get to a society that adores and respects the older, the more experienced and well-read woman—le femme d’un certain âge.

FLIRTING FOR SHY PEOPLE

Okay, suppose you’re shy. And suppose you don’t really feel comfortable participating in witty repartee à la française. In fact, you don’t even like to complain about the weather.

Well, the French have the perfect answer for you—hide behind a fan! Peek out every now and then and flutter your eyelashes or perhaps just flash a little smile and then hide again. Seriously. It’s enchanting.

I’ve always loved old-fashioned fans, but I had never heard of Duvelleroy, an iconic French fan designer, until I went to a lecture at my local library in Kinderhook, New York. Abbey Chase, a longtime fan aficionado, was there to give a lecture on the history of fans. I happen to have a weakness for old-fashioned costumes and accessories. In fact, I collect ladies’ gloves, parasols, vintage handbags, and fans. I don’t actually have a big collection by any means—certainly nothing close to the variety and size of Abbey Chase’s collection! She delighted the library audience, showing us fans from all over the world—big sequin fans from 1920s music halls, silk English fans with painted scenes from the countryside, enormous ostrich feather fans, and pretty rice paper fans from the Far East.

Later, when we had an opportunity to talk, Abbey told me about the famous French fan house and how Duvelleroy had recently reopened their boutique in Paris. Of course, I made it my mission to stop by the shop on my very next visit to Paris.

17 RUE AMÉLIE, 7TH ARRONDISSEMENT, PARIS

And so here I am in Paris, standing in front of the window of Duvelleroy. The exterior of the shop is painted a bright yellow. I ring the little bell and Marine steps out to let me in. Marine is a youngish woman with long, sleek black hair. She’s wearing a pair of those black-framed braniac eyeglasses and a short flirty black skirt, with black tights and black ankle boots. She smiles and welcomes me into the shop.

Honestly, it looks a bit like an art gallery. All these beautiful fans are displayed on the walls and in the store window. Marine explains to me how the owners of the shop, Eloïse and Raphaëlle, met each other on a summer day around a pool and she admired her signature fan. Both Raphaëlle and Eloïse are passionate about French heritage brands and are trained in art, marketing, and branding. This first meeting at the party led to a conversation, and once they discovered that the Duvelleroy archives were available, they jumped at the opportunity to revive this very historical house, originally founded in 1827.

As Marine gives me a peek at the archive drawer and shows me the fans, she explains the importance of the house.

“In haute couture, we are interested in the past, the history and of course, French luxury.”

She picks up an enormous white ostrich feather fan and holds it in front of her face.

“In haute couture, a brand has to communicate its past because fashion changes every day. There are always new trends, and so the history is very important, because it tells us why the brand didn’t disappear. If it’s still here, there is a reason.”

I must admit that I am yearning to own one of these haute couture fans. They’re really spectacular and something you’d see onstage at a music hall in 1923. However, when I ask how much they cost, Marine tells me they’re around two thousand euros. Still, a gal can dream. In the meantime, we move on to the ready-to-wear collection. They’re absolutely adorable and cheeky and funny. There’s one that says in big bold red letters, OH BABY! Another one, which Katy Perry famously carried at Fashion Week, says AIR-CONDITIONING. There’s a sweet, very Parisian one with a picture of lipstick and the Eiffel Tower and a cat, and it says, KISS ME! And then there’s another that features a picture of a Parisienne with her iPhone, taking a selfie, and it says, JE M’AIME! They’re so fun. And they’re only thirty-two euros.

Marine helps me select a little ready-to-wear fan with little blue tigers on it. It’s very cute, but even as she is running my credit card through the machine, I am thinking, Where am I actually going to use this fan? And then there’s the JE M’AIME! fan. Even before my blue tiger fan is in the velvet bag, I regret not buying the JE M’AIME! fan.

Marine tells me that the French always carry fans during the summer, especially on the metro. And then, there are lots of places in Paris that are not air-conditioned, so a fan is the perfect thing. And of course, French women (and lots of men) will own at least one fancy fan to bring to parties, masked balls, the theater, concerts, or any kind of gala event.

And then Marine shows me the most delightful little brochure from the archives. It’s a reprint from the beginning of the nineteenth century with illustrated descriptions on the language of fans. Apparently, in the old days, a woman could secretly communicate all sorts of messages to men, just by the flick of her fan. She could tell a man that she was busy or engaged. She could encourage him to follow her. She could even ask him if he loved her, just by tapping her fan.

iPHONES, SUNGLASSES, LATTES, AND CATS

Later, I meet with my friend Mimi and I tell her about my afternoon at Duvelleroy, and I ask her what she thinks about the early nineteenth-century brochure and language of fans. Mimi gives me a knowing smile. “Well, of course they used fans to send messages. They couldn’t text one another back then!”

Still, this has got me thinking. What if we could send messages with fans? I wonder if Anna Wintour would need her sunglasses and giant latte. Does she really drink that latte or does she really just carry it around as a kind of shield, as if she wants to say, Don’t get too close to me or you’ll get burned by this giant latte? And then there are the sunglasses. They definitely serve to protect and distance.

The same goes for the creative director of Chanel, Karl Lagerfeld. He always wears sunglasses, and he used to use fans, but then he lost a lot of weight and stopped carrying a fan. But then he got a big white Persian cat named Choupette. Choupette has her own Twitter account with over fifty-one thousand followers. She considers Karl to be her father, and somehow Coco Chanel is her grandmother.

But that’s not my point here. My point is that Anna Wintour and Karl Lagerfeld are geniuses at the shy person’s flirt. They might not carry a hand fan, but they use their props—sunglasses, lattes, and cats—to brilliant effect.

You don’t have to say a word to be a master flirt.

If you are shy but aren’t ready to engage in brilliant conversation, take a look at the language of everyday objects. When you lower your eyeglasses and blink your eyes, you are sending out a signal. When you hold your teacup up to your mouth and smile with your eyes alone, you are flirting. When you wear a hat and take it off, you are sending the message that you feel at home. When you slowly remove your gloves or your scarf, you are seducing. You see, you don’t have to say a word to be a master flirt.

Just get a cat! (Kidding.)

Parisian Charm School Lesson

This is why flirtation works so beautifully in France. The elegance and dignity of everyday life—the beautiful clothes, the thoughtful regard for decorum, the separation between public and private space—make the idea of approaching a woman and whistling and saying something disrespectful seem completely wrong.

If you live in a world where there is a sense of dignity, then the men around you will take a cue from you and behave appropriately. Well, maybe some won’t, but you don’t want to have anything to do with a guy who doesn’t know how to behave. And if the men around you don’t quite know how to flirt à la française, well, maybe they will learn, because you will teach them by example.

Redefine flirting in your own life, as a way to slow things down and prevent the one-night stand. It’s not exactly a roadblock, but rather a charming detour that keeps men interested and a little uncertain about whether a woman is just sweet and friendly, or interested in something more.

Practice flirting with someone who will know you are doing nothing more than enjoying a fun conversation. Then, experiment with the very subtle flirt and take note of the responses you garner. This is a great way to gain confidence in your flirting technique.

Learn to flirt with your eyes alone. Then consider your facial expressions and how they may or may not be seductive.

Think about your own cultural history. How did your grandparents flirt? Ask your parents or grandparents how they met and courted. Browse through old family photographs for clues to your own style of flirtation. Take the time to daydream about your earliest memories of grown-ups flirting. What stands out for you and what might you bring into your own romantic life? And finally, take these pieces of memory and imagination and try them out with a spirit of curiosity and an open heart.

Parisian Charm School Pratique

This week, take a fresh look at those routine everyday encounters, such as buying stamps at the post office, and make an effort to spark simple and friendly conversations.

Practice, polish, and develop your own unique art of flirtation.

Everything you do can captivate and charm the world around you.

Begin using your accessories as a way to ignite a man’s imagination. Take your scarf and gloves off slowly. Remove your eyeglasses, or put them on with a sense of purpose.

Look at everyday objects, such as a coffee cup, your iPhone, and a puppy, with this new secret knowledge that everything you do can captivate and charm the world around you.