What Crookies and Franglais Can Do For You

The kookiest English in Paris and other things I've fallen for this week

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A few days ago, I went to lunch with some Spanish/French/American friends that my dog introduced me to in January. He made eyes at them, they invited both of us to join their table, but I was really just the wingwoman. You know how it goes.

I live approximately 721 Metro stops away from these new friends. It takes an hour to cross that much of Paris.  But who could pass up the chance for a lunch conducted in three languages with charming people of three different generations?  It’s like an international game of charades plus wine and cream sauce.  

At one point during the meal, I realized I had been listening to a friend with a Spanish accent speak to me in French and I hadn’t understood anything he said in seven minutes. Nothing. Sure, he’d taken an existential turn, but he must have used SOME French words I knew.  But nope. I just stared like a lemur looking into a flashlight:  hyper-attentive, but completely in the dark.  Erika, my brilliant young friend who speaks all the languages involved, realized I was stuck and kindly towed me back in.

Re-learning French is not like riding a bike after years. It is like running in heels on cobblestones. You don’t know what’s going to take you down, but you know it’s going to happen eventually. Yet, you get up and keep running.

When I do trip up, usually in one of those overly quiet stores where I’m the only customer, I smile and roll my eyes: “Crazy American!  I thought staplers were masculine! But of course, agrafeuse is CLEARLY feminine. I mean who hasn’t known an agrafeuse or two?  You know what I mean? And yes, yes, I do need a bag. She, the agrafeuse will not fit in my pocket.” 

I could then pivot by pointing to my dog and saying something like, “While staplers are feminine, my dog, on the other hand, is a male. Yes, he is a Mister Dog, a garçon who loves attention from people he doesn’t know. If it gets weird like that, I might have to leave the store.  However, this deflection can be an effective way to activate the French canine-adoring gene and smooth over any faux pas. 

I expected those sorts of language confusions when I returned to Paris after decades away.  What I did not expect was to be stumped by English.  It is everywhere and it is baffling.

 I’m not talking about the usual Franglais like le weekend.  Or newer words like “le crookie” which is the sacred union of the French croissant and the American chocolate chip cookie. Pastry hybrids have intuitive names, even if their existence upsets people.

What is really throwing me off is the dramatic rise in stores that have entirely English names, most of which make no sense to me. Here are some names and slogans from storefronts in Paris. Guess the product or service:

People & Baby

Daycare

Oh My Cream!

Beauty product company with stores all over Paris. Should we suggest a comma or would that make it worse?

Eat Dust

Antwerp-based men’s wear company. Their philosophy: “Staying humble is key because what’s right for Eat Dust may not be right for everyone else.”

Feel Your Own Existence

Local contractors that do renovations, plumbing, and electrical work

Madame Pee

Innovative waterless port-a-potty designed for women

Skin Mode 

I still can’t figure out what this place sells. Underwear? Robotics?

Make My Lemonade

Technicolor women’s clothing a la “Emily in Paris”

I’m convinced that being a native speaker is a disadvantage in this new duo lingo landscape. We expect a row of English words to make a certain kind of sense. But after four months here, I find it’s best not to fight for your parochial beliefs about words and meaning. If contractors say they are thinking about your existential needs, just go with the frabjous Jabberwocky of it all. It reminds me of when my sister lived in Japan and had a toaster that said “I Feel Toast” on the side.  She loved it.

When you realize that a rail pass in France is called Ouigo because it’s a bi-lingual portmanteau of the words yes + go, all you can do is laugh and swipe. And that’s not all: Ouigo was coined to sound like you’re saying “we go” in English. It’s the triple axel of Franglais. And sublimely dorky.

I will let the Académie Française fret about protecting the French language from Ouigo words, as they have since 1635. The Immortals, as their members are called, will keep fighting “lexical chimera” as they put it. But I like the word chimera, which itself has several delicious meanings: an unrealizable dream, a fearsome she-monster made of three different animals, and genetic hybrids, like Crookies.

This morning I saw a girl carrying two baguettes and wearing a jacket that said “LOVE NOW” on the back. I don’t know what that phrase means to her.  But it made me happy seeing those words together unexpectedly and in all caps like a command. Or a statement. Or a request. The odd phrasing, that addition of the word NOW made me stop and look at what she was carrying. I thought a person would probably be carrying two baguettes early on a weekend morning if they were bringing them to people they love. The sweetness underneath an ordinary errand… it had me missing my kids. Because love now means a video call instead of bagels in Brooklyn.

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