The Paris Architect: A Novel

Adele wasn’t joking when she said she wouldn’t forgive Lucien for missing her fashion show. Nothing in the world was more important to her. That was one of the things he liked most about her. She was as intent on success in her career as he was in his. Even more so, it seemed.

Lucien arrived at her showroom on rue du Colisée twenty minutes to one and stood in the rear. This was the best spot to see any movie stars in attendance. Adele’s shows always attracted celebrities; they never failed to come. They loved Adele. Lucien also loved to feast his eyes on Adele’s fashion models. So many beautiful women in one place at one time. But this afternoon, Lucien was especially interested in seeing one particular woman—Bette Tullard. Since they met that first evening near Le Chat Roux, he couldn’t get the image of that beautiful face out of his mind. Sometimes when he was drawing in his office, he’d begin to daydream about her. He knew she would be here, because without Bette, there would be no show.

The showroom was a two-story high space with white plaster walls and a black marble floor. Although he didn’t design it, Lucien still admired its elegant interior. The room began to fill up, mostly with well-dressed women, a few accompanied by men. They sat in black metal folding chairs arranged in a semicircle around a beautiful curving stair with black marble treads and white plaster sidewalls topped by a continuous chrome railing. Lucien noticed some Wehrmacht officers in attendance. After two years of the Occupation, the French now mixed together with Germans in public events like this without shame. Lucien knew the officers weren’t interested in the dresses but what was inside them.

Sure enough, as one o’clock came near, Suzy Solidor and Simone Signoret made their appearance. A buzz of noise rose from the audience like bees around a hive. Everyone craned their necks to see them. Both women were beautifully outfitted in Adele’s creations, Solidor in a pretty dark blue outfit with a crimson hat and Signoret in a black suit and matching hat. They waved to everyone and stopped to talk to people they knew. The women took seats that had been reserved for them in the front row. Others joined Lucien in standing at the back since the room was now filled to capacity.

The war had just about extinguished haute couture in Paris, and many fashion houses had closed down. It was to Adele’s credit that she kept hers going. The industry’s skilled workers who made the clothes, many of them Jews, had escaped south to Vichy or were rounded up and deported. The Germans, who recognized France’s leadership in fashion, wanted the fashion industry transferred to Berlin, but later rescinded the order because of its sheer impracticality. They realized Germany had no fashion talent even remotely on a par with France’s.