The Seedy Side of St. Denis

I’m not sure who St. Denis is or what relevancy he has to the French community, but I’m almost certain he’d roll at least once in his grave if he knew what his name represented on the streets of Paris.

While looking for an apartment, we were told to avoid anything near or close to St. Denis. With sex shops lining the streets, “It’s more suitable for those in their twenties looking for a good time,” they said. So, as directed, we opted for a home in the bustling premier arriondissement. However, after stumbling across the heart of St. Denis today, I can safely say it’s so much more than a haven for horny heterosexuals.

As I turned right onto St. Denis, I saw a sea of gentlemen with dollies lining the streets. Most were stationed on corners – exchanging words with a laughter thrown in for good measure. “Why were they standing in huddles,” I thought. “And with dollies?” Once I made a second passing I concluded they were waiting for imported cargo to arrive. I can only assume that when a truck full of imitation fashions and accessories stops to unload, they rush the vehicle like brides at a gown sale hoping to secure one load and its resulting tip.

But it wasn’t until I reached approximately the third block on a stretch of five or seven that I noticed middle-aged women holding court outside numerous doorways. With cigarettes in hand and furs on their back, these overly garnished females were looking for a good time. With excessive blue eye shadow, spritzed hair and skirts barely covering their essentials, they tried gaining the attention of possible suitors as rush hour foot traffic dashed by their storefront. It was hard not to stare. But God forbid if I made eye contact. Then again, with my highlighted hair, I’m sure they knew they’d be barking up the wrong tree.

So who knows if St. Denis would approve. Based on what little knowledge I have of the church, it would be safe to presume he’d have issues with the activities displayed along the boulevard. Then again, those types of assumptions can make an “A-S-S” out of “U-M-E.”