Tourists have been doing it for some time already, other than the self-censoring “Parisians don’t … so I don’t” crowd.

But this year another “don’t” bites the dust.

“Parisians don’t wear sneakers” fell by the wayside in the 90s.

“Parisians don’t eat hamburgers” got gobbled up in the 2000s.

The demise of “In Paris men don’t wear shorts” is now official.

The signs were already here in the dead of winter as men of all ages set about jogging in tights. Men’s running tights, like shorts, are nothing new on the market but rarely had Parisian men dared such public snugness off of the beach. I figured that if men can run around in tights then it’s no daring leap to wearing shorts as the weather warms, even though warmth has been a frustratingly relative term thus far this year.

And so it has come to pass, weather permitting, with men being spotted wearing knee-length cargo shorts, straight shorts showing a flash of knee, flappy shorts showing a glimpse of thigh and the occasional Bermuda, and I’ve even seen some 70s style jean cut-offs on the cobblestone catwalks of my quarter.

The arrival of shorts will now, one hopes, lead to the demise of that most unfortunate article of recent men’s fashion, the pedal pusher, the capris, le pantacourt, those sockless little-boy knickers that found their way into the closets of men and that for several years now have provided proof that les parisiens take their fashion clues not from other men but from les parisiennes. Adieu, then, as pedal pushers find their rightful place in the garbage bin of recent fashionography.

And a hearty and long overdue bienvenue to shorts on men in Paris.

As to that old favorite, “Why do they all smoke?” that’s still got wind in its sails.

© 2013, Gary Lee Kraut

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* * *

The weather has been gloomy in Paris this summer, the sun unpredictable. No sooner are you ready to go out when the sky changes.
Le temps est bien maussade à Paris cet été, le soleil imprévisible. Le temps de se mettre en route et le ciel change.

Still, the desire to be outside and the need for nature are irrepressible. Returning to Parc de Sceaux, I continue my photographic experiments: alone against a tree,
Pourtant l’envie du dehors, le besoin de nature est irrépressible. De retour au Parc de Sceaux, je continue mes expériences : seul contre un arbre,

toes fanning out (a French expression meaning total inactivity),
les doigts de pied en éventail (une expression française qui dit la totale inactivité),

involving a couple of kind tourists with their feet in the water,
impliquant un couple de gentils touristes les pieds dans l’eau,

or playing between shadows and light.
ou jouant entre ombres et lumières.

And this is Paris’s emptiest week of the year: I’ll be here to take advantage of it!
Et c’est ce week end que Paris sera le plus vide de l’année : je serai là pour en profiter!

Photos and text: Va-nu-pieds

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Much less well known and less strolledby foreign visitors is the Paris Plage extension along Bassin de la Villette in the once-far-flung and increasingly happening 19th arrondissment. The bassin is best approached via the Jaurès or Stalingrad metro stop.

Far from the constant, international crowds enjoying a stroll along the Seine, the “beach” area along Bassin de la Villette has a comparatively local feel to it.

So local, in fact, that at 7 o’clock yesterday evening families were going home for dinner as they would from a real neighborhood beach.

There were only a few stragglers on the lounge chairs on the beach above and no one at the ice cream stand below.

Aside from the pleasantness of an off-center promenade, the main attraction of this little beach zone is the open-air dance space that fills from 5 to 8 p.m., later on weekends. That’s when a master or mistress of ceremony leads a public dance featuring one form of music per evening.

Couples and individuals take to the boards try out their steps, whether well practiced or just trying hard. You can, too.

Every night there’s a different type of music according to the following schedule:

Monday: Ballroom.

Tuesday: Rock ’n’ roll and swing.

Wednesday: Bal musette, traditional French dancehall.

Thursday: Tango.

Friday: Salsa.

Saturday: Grand Bal (Musette), traditional French dancehall.

Sunday: Country—yes, country!

I took the photo above on tango evening. That and ballroom draw the fewest dancers, which is why the dancefloor looks sparse above. But it can get quite crowded on other evenings, especially Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

Bassin de la Villette may feel far afield, but a summer stroll actually offers an uncrowded, close-up view of the Eiffel Tower.

Well, maybe not quite the Eiffel Tower.

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