citinotes
The café
“To go to Paris without experiencing a café would be like going to Egypt without seeing the Pyramids”, wrote John Sanderson, an American traveler, in 1847. The café is a major Parisian institution whose temples are able to gather more zealots than a church. In stark opposition to the coffee culture of the Anglo-Saxon world, in Paris, people don’t like to take their coffee to the street. In fact, no habit is more Parisian than lingering around one of these round tables, as tiny as their espressos, with a pocketbook in their hands.
If you have visited the City of Lights, you may already know: The Parisian café is not just a coffee shop. You may order coffee there, but what you will most enjoy is the place, the moment, and, at the end of the day, the experience of being part of the city. There is no other place that embraces diversity, ignites discussions and measures the pulse of the city more than the grounds of a café. Since the opening of the first cafés, such as the Café Procope in 1686, Parisians have found a place to host their much-needed debates, political or literary, philosophical or gossipy. Donald Grant Mitchell (1822 – 1908) was one of the first American novelists to write about the ambiance of a “first-class” Parisian café. In his spicy notes below, dating back to 1847, he explains the behavioral protocol that the bourgeois were found happily obliged to respect when sitting at a Parisian café.
Besides their role as a modern “agora”, cafés have helped stimulate artistic creation. In the roaring ‘20s, hundreds of writers and artists flocked to Paris, establishing the French capital as the center of avant-garde creation. The cafés of Montmartre and Montparnasse immediately became their headquarters: destitute artists found a refuge there to warm up, while the wealthy ones discovered a place to socialize and find inspiration.
Later in the swinging ‘60s, cafés even became a research topic for philosophers. As we will see in an extract below, the celebrity couple Jean-Paul Sartre (1905 -1980) and Simone de Beauvoir (1908 – 1986) spent hours at the Café de Flore and Les Deux Magots deciphering the behavior of waiters – how they walked, spoke, or served a table. Their analysis aimed to establish an existentialist theory on the being of things as opposed to the existence of people.
If you are in Paris, take a morning off your museum visits and walk down to the Vavin crossroads at Montparnasse. Choose one of the four legendary cafés from the ‘30s: Le Dôme, La Rotonde, La Coupole, and Le Select. Take a nice sip of a café-crème and flip-through your favorite pocketbook: Hemingway and Fitzgerald’s Parisian novels can immediately recreate the ambiance of these cafés. Now, close your eyes and you might still be able to overhear Fujita asking for a sake drink in vain: this talented Japanese painter and crazy party animal of the ‘30s spent his most creative years in Paris. If a man starts speaking loudly with a deep, daunting voice, maybe it’s the Irish writer James Joyce. He just finished the last pages of his Ulysses and reads verses to his editor, Sylvia Beach. Their common friend, the American surrealist photographer Man Ray, must be at the back of the room, trying to capture the best hangover expression on the face of his muse, Kiki de Montparnasse. So, if the waiters happen to be a bit slow with your order, go easy on them: chances are that they all had one-drink-too-many the night before.
Citinotes
chapter 1
First Class Café
In first-class cafés, the dining rooms are adorned with great elegance, even splendor. Marble pilasters, strategically arranged for effect, and other ornaments reflect in large mirrors tastefully positioned around the room.
On one side, an elecated seat with an elegant desk or counter, often embellished with a hanging canopy, is presided over by a woman chosen for her good looks. She is the genius overseeing the establishment, maintening order and decency among the patrons with the soft the soft -yet effective- power of her presence. Skilfully, she dirests the waitstaff in their duties, handles patrons’ change with extraordinary grace, and responds to any remarks with accomplished politeness.
Donald Grant Mitchell,
Fresh Gleanings, University of Michigan Library, 1847.
Les Deux Magots, an iconic Parisian café, took its name by two chinese figurines that once adorned the sign of a novelty store located on the site of the current café. Source: Sortir à Paris.
The waiters are traditionally dressed in a black log and a white apron, and the pastry service is done on a tray. Hot chocolate, their signature beverage, is made from chocolate bars. Source: Sortir à Paris.
The café became a pole of attraction for artists and intellectuals, such as André Breton and his fellow Surrealists, Pablo Picasso, Ernest Hemingway and Jean-Paul Sartre. Source: Sortir à Paris.
chapter 2
Café around the clock
The café is the hub of Parisian public life, akin to what Wall Street is for strictly commercial individuals. It serves as a forum for discussing politics and the amusements of the day. Each table forms its own group, and conversations are conducted discreetly so as not to disturb nearby neighbors […]
Donald Grant Mitchell,
Fresh Gleanings, University of Michigan Library, 1847.
In the café, the Parisian enjoys chocolate and a newspaper, a half-cup with a cigar, the company of a mistress alongside ice cream. The provincial takes lunch and the National (note:a French journal), sips absinthe with his wife. Even the Englishman indulges in Galignani (note: some book bought from an famous Parisian bookstore) and eggs, while the German opts for beer and pipe.
As midday approaches, the little half-cup prevails over the breakfast bowl, and there is a noticeable decrease in visitors over the next three hours. […] Soon, the old bachelors and men in quarrels with their wives make their appearance.
As the day progresses, after-dinner idlers arrive. Elderly ladies with little white dogs search for tables, enjoying their coffee. Outdoor seats fill up with laughter, relaxation, sipping, and conversation. The lamps illuminate the scene. Young men order ice creams, and old men opt for punch. Dominoes can be heard clinking at various tables.
As the clock strikes nine, ten, eleven, and twelve, the Parisian world winds down. Buses have ceased running, shutters are closed, and people begin to leave, not for home – a term absent from their vocabulary – but chez eux.
Donald Grant Mitchell,
Fresh Gleanings, University of Michigan Library, 1847.
chapter 3
How to behave at a Parisian café
Upon entering these cafés, one may spot a person in a white apron, mustached, holding a coffee pot, and gracefully leaning to read a newspaper: he is the waiter. A call of “waiter!” three times prompts the office lady to ring a small doorbell, relieving the server. If you exude a distinguished air, two calls may suffice, and if you look lordly, no calls may be necessary. […]
The waiter, delivering change, anticipates a tip. A penny elicits a head tilt; two prompts a thank-you; and generously leaving three pennies results in a deep bow, muttered thanks, and even door-opening. Exiting, a hat is raised to the lady, whose calm response indicates she has acknowledged half of Europe’s coffee drinkers.
Donald Grant Mitchell,
Fresh Gleanings, University of Michigan Library, 1847.
chapter 4
The waiter
Now, let’s consider this café waiter. His movements are swift and precise, perhaps a touch too eager. Approaching patrons with a brisk step, he leans forward with eagerness, and his voice and eyes display a solicitous interest in the customer’s order.
Finally, there he returns, attempting to mimic the inflexible stiffness of some kind of automaton while carrying his tray with the recklessness of a tightrope walker […]. His entire demeanor appears to be an act.
He applies himself to chaining his movements as they were mechanisms, each one regulating the other; his gestures and even his voice seem to operate like mechanisms. He instills in himself the quickness and pitiless rapidity of things. He is playing, amusing himself. But what is he playing?
He is playing the role of a waiter in a café. There is nothing here that should surprise us. This is a game of detection and investigation. Just as a child plays with his body to explore it, and meticulously study it, the waiter in the café plays with his condition to materialize it.
Now, let’s consider this café waiter. His movements are swift and precise, perhaps a touch too eager. Approaching patrons with a brisk step, he leans forward with eagerness, and his voice and eyes display a solicitous interest in the customer’s order.
This obligation is not unique; all tradesmen must deliver similar performances. Their social status demands a ceremonious display, as the public insists they confine themselves to their designated roles. There’s a dance of the grocer, the tailor, the auctioneer, where they strive to convince clients that they are nothing but their trade. A grocer who dreams is offensive because he transcends his role. Society insists on constraining individuals within their defined functions, taking precautions to prevent escape from assigned roles, as if living in perpetual fear of someone breaking away from their prescribed condition.
Jean-Paul Sartre,
L’Être et le Néant, NRF – Gallimard, 1943.
Paris for café lovers
Our favorite café patios to watch the city parade.
