A Striking Difference

Bostonians are stylish. But we could learn a few things from our sisters in Paris, who never play it safe.

(Illustration by Marquerite Sauvage)

I'm a people watcher - always have been. Unlike most folks who share my passion, I actually people watch for a living. It's a major part of my job writing and taking photos for the fashion column in this magazine, and previously I was a fashion trend forecaster for 25 years. I traveled the country and abroad to see how the more adventurous souls put themselves together, then reported back to my clients. Street fashion is a cool hunter's crystal ball.

But while everyone thinks he or she can do that job, there is a singular characteristic that separates the professionals from the amateurs. You can't be judgmental, or you might miss the next big thing. And in turn, the fear of one's own outfit being looked upon as a - heaven forbid - "fashion don't" is anathema to jawdropping style.

This brings me to a subject that's been on my mind since I took my most recent trip to France: why Bostonians tend to play it safe with their wardrobes, while Parisians view dressing more as improvisational jazz.

Now, now - don't start writing the "You're so wrong, Boston is too a fashionable city" e-mails - not yet, anyway. I'm not saying Bostonians aren't stylish. I wouldn't be able to do my job if that were true. But New Englanders aren't big on taking sartorial risks. There's that lurking dread of someone across the room checking you out and whispering to a friend, "Doesn't she have a mirror at home?" Parisians are nothing if not certain in their choices.

Recently, I enjoyed an extended stay in the City of Lights celebrating my 25th wedding anniversary. While I've been to Paris many times before, I never really analyzed why Europeans are so chic. Then one morning it hit me. I was watching a TV program about the local street scene when a French commentator remarked, "Americans dress to fit in. Parisians dress to stand out."

It was like a veil (or chiffon scarf ) had been lifted. That's why my column in Boston works so well. If there's a trend, like print dresses or short-shorts, loads of local women will be wearing it, looking similar, and looking great. But in Paris, the trend will be interpreted in such a variety of ways - both by retailers and shoppers - that no one looks like anyone else.

Billowy pants are big right now in Paris. In just one hour at an outdoor cafe, I saw harem, double-layered, slashed balloon, asymmetrical, and drawstring-hemmed styles go by - each worn with a completely different-style top and inventive accessories.

Parisians also aren't big on wild prints (considered not versatile), or jeans and designer logos (too commonplace). Their outfits seem to be inspired more by the cubist artwork in museums than the spreads in fashion and celebrity magazines. Each outfit is carefully crafted from a variety of flattering silhouettes and interesting color combinations that manage to surprise without shouting.

Even window-shopping is taken seriously, with each boutique displaying imaginative outfits paired with large handwritten cards that list the price of every item, so one can budget accordingly. The French are far more likely to buy one or two pricey items they love and wear them all the time, than many more affordable ones.

Fashion is respected for the artistic expression that it is. On that score, as well as many others, Parisians are fearless. Consider: They eat a staggering array of animal innards and don't have screens on open French windows despite the ever-present pigeon population.

Admittedly, fashion was born in Paris. Yves Saint Laurent died during my visit there, and it was like a national week of mourning. And with its balustrades and exquisite stained-glass dome ceiling, Galeries Lafayette looks more like a house of worship than a department store.

But just because Boston came a little late to the fashion party doesn't mean we can't be more experimental. Of course there are many inspired dressers in Boston, but more so at special events in town. In Paris - city and suburb, day and night - they dress creatively just to buy a baguette. It's a sign of respect to the baker.

What have you got to lose? As the always memorable Mae West once said, "It's better to be looked over than to be overlooked."

Tina Sutton has written and photographed "The Clothes We Wear" column since 2004. E-mail her at tsutton@globe.com.