NEW YEAR IN PARIS.

Auckland Star, Volume LIII, Issue 309, 30 December 1922, Page 15

NEW YEAR IN PARIS.

THE WAY OT THE YEAB. (By GEORGE CECIL, f Although Christmas in Paris is not considered of much account, New Year's Day, and, of course, New Year's Eve, not to mention the day after New Year's Day, are, of the utmost importance. The jour de lan has been eagerly anticipated for weeks past; the petits riches have saved up for twelve months to do honour to it, and even tbe most humble people, thanks to a marvellous system of economy, often put by something towards the important occasion. A 9 to the well-to-do, they positively throw money about; nothing is too good or too expensive for the fete. All Paris takes a holiday. Every Government and commercial office and all the shops are closed, while the cobblers (who urually work on Sundays) put away the awl and the beeswax, indulge in the luxury of an annual wash and shave, and make merry. There are, however, exceptions, for the really grasping variety, unable to bring themselves to sacrifice a complete working day, only take the evening off. The elusive franc being their particular deity, they hate to forego a chance of adding to the hoard. The cobbler has daughters to marry, and in Paris the fairest of the fair may languish for want of a dowry. The dot, in short, is far more important than a peach-like complexion and a trim figure. The concierge and his wife, like the cobbler, put business before pleasure. So, instead, of calling upon friends and relations and drinking innumerable healths at their expense, tbe grasping couple hover about the house all day, pestering the irritated inhabitants with unwelcome, attentions. Upon being tipped out of all proportion to the services which they profess to have rendered during the year, the ill-conditioned, pair retire to their subterranean quarters and growl. ANXIOUS THOUGHTS. Parisians spend part of New Year's Eve thinking of New Year's Day. "Will twelve bottles of champagne," demands monsieur or madame, "be sufficient for our fifteen guests? Or will they abuse our hospitality by drinking more than their proper share of the agreeable, but deceptive, king of wines? And the 'turkey: 'Twould indeed be a shocking calamity were your rich uncle, the depute, to expect three helpings as he did at our last New Year's dinner. . . " "May Heaven preserve us from rain to-morrow evening ! To have to take a taxi instead of the inexpensive metro to the dance at Auteuil; I tremble at. the mere thought. "Thank God, New Year's Day is a rare occurrence. Four hundred francs to the servants, nine hundred for the dress which you are to wear to-morrow evening, and over a thousand in presents Tis enough to break a banker. ... It will thus be seen that the innate economy Jof the French is the ruling passion of ~ that great nation. , . Still, custom is exigent; so Parisians, resigning themselves to the inevitable, face the situation and plank down the (hoarded francs. They also (more or less) .ret their monev's worth, and thus are partly consoled, though the heavy expenditure may keep them awake o'nights for a month to come. Meanwhile, there are many who curse the first of January, and w : s h —by all the saints in the calendarthat it could be wiped off the face of Time's calculations. . . "It is an imposition, a sheer imposition," they will tell you. DANCING TILL SUNRISE. The New Year's Eve festivities are prolonged, since they begin with an afternoon dance at a private house, or at a "dancing," and last till the next day s sunrise, or thereabouts. Then comes dinner, generally at a restaurant, where the prices are specially raised for the occasion, the tables being engaged weeks ahead. It is not clear why New Year s Eve should be an excuse for extortion, but ever since the aftermath of tbe war let loose profiteers by the hundred it has been customary to overcharge. Persons of this type, in fact, are rather hurt than otherwise if their dinner costs them what it would under ordinary circumstances. "Our dignity," they will tell you, "must be maintained; to prove that we are gentlefolk we are ready to pay a fantastic sum." Those to whom life is a perpetual struggle to make ends meet hate tbe sight of the swaggering vulgarians. THE BACHELOR TAX. New Year's Day sees the bachelor in a taxi, driving to the houses at which he has been entertained during the past year, custom ordaining that Benedict must present each hostess witli a bouquet, or with a box of chocolates, and nobly does he do his duty. He has, at ' intervals, repaid her hospitality in other directions, with theatre tickets galore, for example; but on no account may the New Year's Day offering be omitted. 1 Should the bachelor have little boys and little girls on his visiting list, he also ! may drive round and leave presents foa 1 them. This is optional, but the Parisien r who does so will be adored by the chil- '■ dren's maman. The astute fellow probably knows this. "Truly he is charm- ' ing, "the young officer. To have left that ' exquisite doll for our cherished Mimi! * It must have cost at least two hundred I francs. Really, my old one, had I not : married thee, he would be my choice! I f must speak to my 6ister Marthe about • him, for they would suit each other adf mirably. Besides, he evidently is well r off. . . " t The New Year's presents obligation falls heavily upon some bachelors. HowII ever, they do what is necessary, sparing f neither expense nor trouble over the d gifts, ransacking tout Paris in their '- search for suitable offerings. Professional d men combine duty and pleasure with -- business, for they know that the cadcati h will be talked about. "Delicious, your ?. orchids. A present from the family doc.B tor? Good, I appoint him my family doc■t tor immediately. Gustave and Henriette, (the dear angels, are sure to overeat y I themselves to-night. . . t" I THE PROFITEER?- ---" ! The tradesmen do not, as in Germany, i lavish New Year's dainties upon their i customers. They send in their account j instead, and spend the proceeds in feast- ' ing and riotous living. Dining at a restaurant, these people eat enormously and I drink the generous wines of the country, i toasting the high rates which they are \ permitfed to charge the long-suffering i public. Finally, a move is made for a ! dancing club, or for a "dancing," where, lin the intervals of drinking additional j toasts, they foot it in le fox trot and le one step. The elderly and the staid reI main at home, dining copiously, and won- | dering to what extent they can enhance I the prices of the commodities forming their stock. An ignoble crew. ! The very poor hang about the places 'at which the profiteers dine, and remark ;on the display of extravagance. The i ostentatious vulgarity of the opulent I diners is provocative of a riot, a catas- ! trophe which only is prevented by the law-abiding principles of the populace. There is, however, a limit to human endurance.