10/01/2015

To quote Memrise, a stroppy vocab learning app which has frustratingly acquired permission to use push notifications, "it's been a while". In the last two months, I have:

• Had a delicious $10 dinner in Melbourne's Chinatown 
• Photographed a ruined French abbey in the North Yorkshire Moors
• Won a Tom Tailor minigolf tournament
• Eaten some mediocre pizza in Hamburg for a fiver
• Jogged up the side of a ski piste to the bemusement of an elderly Swiss couple
• Worked an all-day shift in a Tom Tailor store, djing and making popcorn... At the same time.
• Been to Phillip Island and not seen the penguins – cheers Fergus
• Had a solid 20€ dinner in an Indian restaurant in Versailles (biryani was the right choice)
• Changed country… Four times.
• Not used Memrise once. 

With the boring details covered, I'd now like to write about my latest trip to the supermarket. My local Carrefour hypermarché may not quite match up to my favourite branch in the outskirts of Antibes, where freshly prepared sushi is sold alongside immense 3D televisions and 0,89€ bottles of wine (a product arrangement which could probably be improved upon). Though with live lobster marauding aquariums and four aisles dedicated to cheese, the Porte d’Auteuil offering certainly holds its own. Upon entry, the Gruen transfer effect was immediate (non-Australians may need to google), and I eventually washed up outside the store with far more stuff than I knew what to do with.

It was a three day hike to the stationery section.

In that dizzying blur, ten minutes of consternation in the shampoo & conditioner aisle stood out. In other countries, the name of the game in male grooming tends to be simplicity and accessibility. Not so in France – unable to locate a familiar Pantene shelf in this palace of FMCGs, I turned instead to the local hero, L’Oréal. Of the five distinct shampoos available, each styled itself as the solution to some hair-related problem: two were anti-dandruff, two were anti-hair-loss and one was anti-thinning. In other words, the assumptions in every case were that you a) had a problem with your hair, b) had identified it and c) sought measures to counter it. Their range had somehow managed to miss the proportion of men who (i) don’t have a problem with their hair, (ii) don’t know about it, or (iii) don’t care.

Blue+orange & blue act against dandruff, black+teal & red against hair loss, maroon against thinning. Where is my Pantene classic care?

As a (i) or (ii)er, I felt alienated, frustrated and confused. For L’Oréal’s downbeat offering to work, you’d have to assume a culture in which most men are actively looking for problems with their hair. In my experience, that culture doesn’t exist in England or Australia – but then, it probably would if the market-leading haircare brand started listing all the things that can go wrong on their standard selection. So well done, L’Oréal. You’ve balanced the unfair body image expectations on France’s women by beating its men into paranoia too*. You’ve traded in a little bit of liberté for a bit more égalité on the part of the fraternité. And now I’ll never again lose a hair on my pillow without fearing the worst and cursing your name. And giving thanks for the Arginine Resist X3 Shampooing Renforçateur in my shower. Bastards.

Picked it for the colour scheme, I swear.

So. Shampoo in hand (along with a couple of tartes tatin, some onions and a bathmat), I brought home all my essentials for the next six months in Paris. May those months be littered with LAP articles.

*Thereby making this hilarious but fairly depressing joke a little less true.

PS. The shooting of several policemen and unarmed civilians in France over the last few days has left me feeling cold. I think these articles provide some important reflections in the immediate aftermath.