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A patient gaggle of tourists outside of Louis Vuitton’s headquarters who will wait up to 20 minutes to simply shop Vuitton in Paris. Make no mistake, though, Louis is still the people’s choice in France. Spotting the tell-tale LV’s stamped on to a bus boy’s neck satchel, it is abundantly clear: I am in Paris, home of Brigitte Bardot, Coco Chanel and the Sun King himself. Yet in this city where a simple cup of coffee can run up to 9 euros (don’t get caught in the rain on the Champs-Elysess), I am doing Paris the pedestrian way- trying to keep it chic for cheap and sniff out where the dirty queers are.

Using a bike rented from VéLib, the Parisian system that Montréal’s own bixi was modelled after I’m able to hit all four banks of the River Seine in the span of an afternoon. Starting from the Arc de Triomphe, I speed down the historic shopping district of Champs-Elyssés. The major houses are all here or tucked into a street nearby: Prada, Fendi, Chanel, Dior, Hermes. From the lofty seat of my bicycle, I treat myself to an architectural blitz of the city – a perfect way to savour the spoils of Paris without going broke. I visit the iron impressionist stylings of the Tour d’Eiffel, the imposing Baroque palais of the Jardin du Luxembourg, the lofty gothic towers of the Notre Dame Cathederal, the ostentatious glass dome of the Galeries Lafayette and even the inside-out post-modern glass and pipe monstrosity of the Centre Pompidou.

Hopping off my bike, I wander through Montmartre. The neighbourhood is home to the famous Moulin Rouge. A dinner and show at the notorious cabaret begins at 150 euro, though discerning tourists can enjoy a fair amount of skin at the peepshows, strip clubs, and bath houses that dot the Boulevard de Clichy and adjacent streets.

It’s 5 o’clock and I set south to join the queue for rush tickets in front of the Opéra de Paris. Located at the Place da la Bastille, the Opéra releases discount tickets an hour and a half before show time. I score a 12 euro ticket to a 7:30 showing of Strauss’ Salome (based on a libretto by Oscar Wilde). With time to spare, I hop over to the Places des Vosges, the first master-designed public square in Europe and former home to one Victor Hugo. His second-floor apartment is preserved as a museum. The poet’s boudoir stylings are impressive and, as one of the few free things to do in Paris, it is a must see.

The modern Opéra de la Bastille has been denounced by detractors as a giant toilet for its distasteful similarities to the city’s free public washrooms that line the city streets. However, when the lights dim and the orchestra strikes its first chord, the Opéra’s interior grey scale is easily forgotten. The costumes were spectacular, the set impeccable, and the vocals increasingly incendiary. Angela Denoke is a cold and calculating Salome, whose clumsy Dance of the Seven Veils was utterly comical and absolutely perfect. As a first-time opera-goer, I was in awe despite my maligned surroundings.

After the Opéra, I wend my way back to my rented apartment in the Quartier-Latin. I stop to pick up a 3 euro bottle of local red before heading out for a late night dip in the Piscine Pointoise. This stunning art deco pool features an arced glass ceiling through which you can enjoy the Parisian twilight as you backstroke. Music blares from 8pm onwards and pool goers are encouraged to stay until midnight. As the night wears on, swimming gives way to socializing and the chatter floats up to the ceiling.

Afterwards, I cross the Seine to the Marais, Paris’ fourth arrondissement and the LGBQ neighbourhood. Unlike many of North America’s gayhourhoods, no rainbow banners announce your arrival in the district, but I easily spot a group of lesbians and follow them into the bar 13e Lieu. The place offers a mélange of disco-hits, 4 euro beers, and a full kitchen open until one. I meet some local Parisians who buy me rosé from St-Tropez and add me on Facebook, the global language. After shots of tequila, we head down the street and around the corner to Les Souffleurs, a narrow queer bar with low ceilings and a smoking room in the basement.

Tap that Tapette, Barman at Les Souffleurs

Les Souffleurs is packed with quipsters who sport bone necklaces and the international sign du queer, asymmetrical haircuts. The music is dubstep remixes of American top 40, a style that imbues Rihanna’s S&M with a touch of laissez-faire. It’s too crowded for dancing but the bartender offers me free beers after he discovers I’m a lonely Anglo-queer and I befriend a trio of co-workers who happily teach me dirty phrases, discuss France’s socialist party, and show off the tiny terrier they brought to the bar as a man-trap. They buy me drinks, feed me burgers, and then take me to RAIDD Bar where we dance and are treated to a show of studs in little clothing washing themselves in soap suds. The dog goes home but we stay until 5 in the morning. After promising to rendez-vous with my new friends on Sunday at the drag bar le Club Queen, I stumble home, pausing briefly to watch the sunrise over the Seine.

Raidd Bar – 23 rue de Temple
www.raiddbar.com

Les Souffleurs
7 rue Verrerie (no website)

Le 13eme Lieu
62 rue Quincampoix

Queen Club
102 ave des Champs-Elysses
www.queen.fr

Opéra de Paris

www.operadeparis.fr

Banner Photo by Heather Lewenza