From love locks to total lockdown
A short jog is now one of the very few state-sanctioned reasons for being dehors, which means the cigarette-loving French have discovered a belated passion for health
“DO you think this is funny?”
I was wearing skin-tight leggings, a leopard-print polarfleece, and a giant rust-coloured beanie the shape of an empty condom.
If anything, I should have been asking him that question. Alas, this is life under lockdown in France, where police, despite having a rollerblade unit, have zero tolerance for humour.
He let me off with an icy glare, only after checking I was carrying a permission slip. It’s a $250 fine without.
Yes, in the land of liberty you now need papers every time you leave the front door.
No printer? Write the note by hand, an intentional design flaw to encourage people to not bother. Finally, France’s penchant for paperwork and inefficiency combines to save humanity.
A short jog is now one of very few state-sanctioned reasons for being dehors, which means the cigarette-loving French have discovered a belated passion for health. Buying groceries or medicine, walking your dog, helping the elderly are also accepted. But unfortunately, an early proforma note with added exception for “plan cul” – sex friends – proved to be fake news.
It wasn’t always this way. Just two weeks ago coronavirus was a blip across the Italian border. Then the blip became a spike, Spain became an outbreak, and France packed its pantaloons.
Last Sunday, Parisians congregated in the sun by the Seine to picnic, not panic. The official response to France’s Bondi Beach moment was swift and decisive: the French would be grounded at home for “at least 15 days”.
Is it working? On Monday, one week in, the death toll rose 186 in a day bringing the total to 860. There are 20,000 infections, and worse to come.
A country famous for love locks, now lives in lockdown. And, dear Australia, it looks like you’re next.
Yet home jail need not be a life sentence, and hopefully won’t be a death one. The French prepared for confinement by stocking up on wine and Albert Camus’ The Plague. Here’s what I’d add to that list. WFH? Set motivating goals, like only falling down the Google rabbit hole five hours a day. Or achieving screen-time records you never previously imagined. Become a dog person: it’s an excuse to leave the house, and the alternative is jogging.
Cover your mirrors: despite what you may think, home confinement is not the moment for self-reflection. Watch Marie Kondo in reverse: now is the time for hoarding (apparently), not discarding.
With one exception: boring social media friends. Italian doctors are making tough decisions of who to save and who to cull, and you should use this time to do the same.
Start a new relationship: want to meet someone to spend the rest of your life with? Confinement offers the ultimate 45-day trial. And end that extramarital one. If you thought explaining away chlamydia was hard, try COVID-19.
Yell at an old person: But only to maintain your distance while asking how to help.
Apply a spritz of perfume to your hands: LVMH has retooled its perfume factories to produce hand sanitiser for hospitals.
Get a haircut now, and mani-pedi. Or maybe a hat. Or used to grey hair.
And grow a long mo. Corona is the new Movember, and will last a lot longer.
Embrace life in underpants, and a related point, learn where the off-camera button is on every home-working app.
Raise your standards of cleanliness: clean every surface in your house to reduce risk of transmission.
Then lower them right down: it’s easier. And it’s not like guests will visit. Enjoy your last bike rides, parks with your kids, the beach, walking outside, life as you knew it.
You don’t need my permission.
Sam Davies is an Australian journalist living in Paris.