The Right Word

As someone whose life consists mainly of staring at a blinking cursor or the blank page, I know how hard it is to come up with just the right word.

It’s also true that having two languages doubles the hazards.

When I first arrived in Paris, I always thought it was so pretentious, those anglophones who’d drop in French words while speaking English. Please! I thought. Like you don’t know the word in your native tongue!

Well, turns out, I am now one of those people.

And I promise, I haven’t become pretentious. At least, I hope not. (Now is where you jump in and say that I’m as down-to-earth and lovely as ever).

This is just how the brain works. Certain words arrive in French first and I must grasp for the English word. I even have these brain freezes where I simply cannot find it (the word, not my brain, though sometimes I have moments where I cannot find my brain, either).

I hate when people ask for insta-translations. How do you say “such & such” in English? Or, “how would you say “whatchamacallit” in French?” My mind usually does this: zzzzzzzz.

It’s difficult not to feel stupid at this point. Hmm, I know both of these languages and yet I suddenly can’t remember anything in either one.

I know this is normal, though. (Right. I promise I’ve read articles that say this.)

As you can imagine, losing language is a riot for a writer. Living in France has basically meant I’ve become mediocre in two languages: French gets better, but is still bad; English gets worse. (Also, I’ll take a moment to mourn Spanish, which I used to know well. It’s gone, gone, gone. Or at least very well hidden).

So, with these two things in mind – the difficulty of finding the right word and the fact that we mix and match languages, anyway – I forgive awkward formulations and odd word choices.

Doesn’t mean I don’t still do a double-take, though.

I’m sure there are better examples of store names gone awry. But what impressed me was that I found these all within a five-minute walk. One after the other. It was on Rue Popincourt and Rue de la Roquette in the 11th.

All my shoes are sweet. (Love the superfluous apostrophe, too)

Store doesn't look too chic to me, but ok. It's the one next door that got me: "Lovie Style."

Is this a real name? Makes me think of a cross between Love and Lolita. Shudder.

Hmm. Three K's. (KKK). Sorry, said it in my head and that's what it came out to.

Help! Plastic Bags!

My favorite, in the 20th, though has to be this:

I wonder what happens in this bar.

Ann Mah has some great examples over on her blog, too. What signs have made you do a double-take?