Are bobos guilty of killing Parisian nightlife ?
Where are the cool nightspots in the Marais, arguably the trendiest area in Europe ?
Are the creative directors killing the scene that inspires their ad campaigns?
And is the progressive gentrification of Paris really going to force us out into the Montreuil wilderness to pick up hot swedish girls ?
John Whelan, the co-founder of Le Pompon and Jackets shares his views in light of his recent decision to sell the bar he opened only 6 months ago. Residents of Faubourg Saint Denis and South Pigalle, also take note!
It is not without regret that we have decided to close Jackets and put it up for sale. In spite of current trends, our experiment to open a rock n’ roll bar has been largely successful, as our regular clients would attest. Yet recently we have been forced into a corner by waves of complaints by militant neighbours a recent phenomenon that is steadily snuffing out the city’s world-famous reputation for savoir-vivre. For instance, we have witnessed a number of banners draped from windows above our bar featuring incendiary rhetoric, reminiscent in tone to Bastille-stormers and Soixante-huitards of yore. Droit au sommeil ! Stop au bruit ! Or perhaps the piece de resistance, Le bruit nuit à nos nuits’ (chapeau to the copywriter in question!).
This ‘bruit’ to which our neighbours refer ought to be put into its historical context. Paris in 2013 is in many ways a quieter place than it has ever been, particularly when it comes to bars. In the past, music was played live percussive jazz and swing animating evenings in poorly insulated bars. Yet it was considered part and parcel of urban life, and Parisians simply got on with it. Today, it’s a very different story, where self-righteousness appears to have triumphed, and bars are hamstrung into lowering the music to a pitiful 82DB (as was the case with us), which for your information, is significantly quieter than a throng of human voices. Will they be telling us to keep our voices down as we drink our Friday beers in the not too distant future? Don’t bet against it!
What’s more, the imposition of the smoking ban has created what can only be described as a killjoy catch-22. People who don’t like the smell of smoke have forced smokers outside who in turn annoy the neighbours who, as one amusingly told me ˜likes to sleep with their windows open in summer’. ˜Paris n’est pas Provence Madame’, I replied with a wink and a smile. From the look on her face, I fear that the humour was lost on her. At Jackets, we have herded our clients around the block (literally!) with a variety of exotic cordoning solutions in an attempt to appease the voisinage. No such luck. What became pretty clear pretty quickly is that Parisians like a smoke, mais pas en bas de chez moi.
Mais pas en bas de chez moi. This pretty much sums up the attitude of the vociferous minority who protest against bars of a musical persuasion. You would perhaps think that it’s the elderly who kick up the most fuss, as they grumpily heat up a cassoulet for one in their studio digs. Quite the opposite the owners of L’Inconnu (another beleaguered bar) have been thanked on more than one occasion by elderly people grateful for their provision of professional security in a rough, under policed area with a history of drug dealing. How ironic it is then, that on the rare occasion that the police do come, it’s to threaten the very source of local peace-of-mind.
So if it isn’t the elderly, who is killing all the joy? It seems that the most virulent of protesters are the A.P.C. clad new parents; 30-something bobos who seem to be venting their frustration at those who make them confront their loss of youth on a daily basis. Now that Mummy has hung up her high-heels, protecting the value of her new family-sized apartment/investment seems to be her priority. And if that means driving out the local commerce that makes her community a diverse, interesting and culturally important place to live, so be it!
It would be wise to remind Mummy from time to time where she met Daddy. Chances are it was in an establishment not dissimilar to Jackets. Without seeking to over-romanticize, bars play an important, if not integral part in our society. Ever since that day some grapes were left out for too long, people have been gathering in their droves to drink and to dance, in the hope of meeting the one’. How sad it would be if the beating heart of the City of Love were ripped out because of some officious newlyweds exacting their revenge.
We’ve been fined. We’ve been bullied. We’ve had vinegar thrown on us from on high (!) But we’re planning on going out with a bang rather than a whimper. In 2014, Jackets will reopen again in a location selected for its complete absence of neighbours. It will be a basement club this time round, cocooned in reassuringly thick brick, and open late which means more drinking, more dancing, and more rock n’ roll. We look forward to seeing you there.
Yours sincerely,
John Whelan
(Co-founder of Jackets)
P.S. Neighbours if you’re reading, might we draw your attention to the wonderful invention of the foam ear-plug? I use them every night and sleep like a f*cking log.
