We have experimented in all three methods. In the first, you are sure to pay the extreme retail price. In the second, you are very likely to do the same, the only difference being that the courier gets a handsome douceur from the shop-keeper for introducing you, or, in other words, shares with him the extra amount of which you have been plundered. The latter method is by far the best and most satisfactory to strangers unfamiliar with Paris and French customs.
Stereoscopic views of Paris, which we were charged one franc apiece for on the Boulevards, were purchased of the manufacturer in his garret at three francs a dozen. Spectacles which cost five dollars a pair in Boston, and eight francs on the Boulevards, we bought for three francs a pair of the wholesale dealer. Gloves are sold at all sorts of prices, and are of all sorts of qualities, and the makers will make to measure any pattern or style to suit any sort of fancy. Jewelry we were taken to see in the quarter where it was made—up stairs, in back rooms, often in the same building where the artisan lived, where, there being no plate glass, grand store, and heavy expenses to pay, certain small articles of bijouterie could be purchased at a very low figure; rich jewelry, diamonds, and precious stones were sold in quiet, massive rooms, up stairs, in buildings approached through a court-yard.
For diamonds, you may be taken up stairs to a small, carefully guarded inner room, dimly lighted, in which a black-velvet-covered table or counter, and two or three leather-covered chairs, give a decidedly funereal aspect to the place. An old, bent man, whose hooked nose and glittering eyes betoken him a Hebrew, waits upon your conductor, whom he greets as an old acquaintance. He adjusts the window shade so that the light falls directly upon the black counter (which is strikingly suggestive of being prepared to receive a coffin), or else pulls down the window-shade, and turns up the gas-light directly above the black pedestal, and then, from some inner safe or strong box, produces little packages of tissue paper, from which he displays the flashing gems upon the black velvet, shrewdly watching the effect, and the purchaser's skill and judgment, and keeping back the most desirable stones until the last.
Ladies' ready-made clothing may be bought in Paris as readily as gentlemen's can be in New York or Boston—garments of great elegance, and of the most fashionable make and trimming, such as full dress for evening party or ball, dress for promenade, morning dress, and cloaks of the latest mode. These are made, apparently, with all the care of "custom made" garments, certainly of just as rich silk, satin, and velvet, and a corps of workwomen appears to be always in attendance, to immediately adapt a dress or garment to the purchaser by alteration, to make it a perfect fit. In one of these large establishments for the sale of ladies' clothing were numerous small private drawing-rooms, each of which was occupied by different lady purchasers, who were making their selections of dresses, mantles, or cloaks, which were being exhibited to them in almost endless variety.
The saleswomen were aided by young women, evidently selected for their height and good figures, whose duty it was to continually whip on a dress or mantle, and promenade back and forth before the purchasers. By these shrewd manœuvres, many a fat dowager or dumpy woman of wealth was induced to purchase an elegant garment, which, upon the lithe, undulating figure of a girl of twenty was a thing of grace and beauty, thinking it would have the same effect upon herself. These model artists were adepts in the art of dress, and knew how to manage a dress trail in the most distingué style, wore a mantelet with a grace, and threw a glance over the shoulder of a new velvet cloak or mantle with an archness and naiveté that straightway invested it with a charm that could never have been given to it had it been displayed upon a "dummy." As an illustration of the value of a reliable commissionaire's services at this first-class establishment, it is only necessary to state, that on our second visit, which was in his company, we found that a difference of eighty to a hundred francs was made in our favor, on a six hundred franc costume, upon what was charged when we came as strangers, and alone.
There are some magnificent India shawl stores in Paris, carried on by companies of great wealth, who have their agents and operatives constantly employed in India, and whose splendid warehouses are filled with a wealth of those draperies that all women covet. In a room of one of these great shawl warehouses we saw retail dealers selecting and purchasing their supplies. Salesmen were supplied by assistants with different styles from the shelves, which were displayed before the buyer upon a lay figure; and upon his displeasure or decision, it was immediately cast aside upon the floor, to be refolded and replaced by other assistants; which was so much more labor, however, than unfolding, that the floor was heaped with the rich merchandise. This so excited an American visitor, that she could not help exclaiming, "Only think of it! Must it not be nice to stand knee-deep in Cashmere shawls?"
Many purchasers, who seek low prices and fair dealings, visit the establishment known as the "Bon Marché," rather out of the fashionable quarter of the city, and "the other side of the Seine." The proprietor of this place buys in big lots, and sells on the quick-sales-and-small-profits principle; and his immense warehouse, which is filled with every species of dry goods, haberdashery, ribbons, clothing, gloves, gents' furnishing goods, and almost everything except groceries and medicines, is crammed with purchasers every day, whose voitures line the streets in the immediate vicinity. At this place bargains are often obtained in articles of ladies' dress, which may be a month past the season, and which are closed out at a low figure, to make room for the latest style; and American ladies, who sometimes purchase in this manner, rejoice, on arrival in their own country, with that joy which woman only knows when she finds she has about the first article out of a new fashion, and that, too, bought at a bargain.
It is a good plan for American tourists, who have any amount of purchases to make, to take a carriage by the hour, and the banker's clerk or commission merchant whom they engage to accompany them, and make a day of it. It will be found an economy of time, and to involve far less vexation and fatigue, than to attempt walking, or trusting to luck to find the articles desired. An American, on his first visit to Paris, finds so many things to attract and amuse him, and withal meets so many of his countrymen, all bent upon having a good time there, that he generally overstays the time he has allotted himself in the gay capital. Once there, in its whirl of pleasure and never-ending kaleidoscopic changes of attractions, amusements, and enjoyment, time flits by rapidly; and when the day of departure comes, many a thoughtless tourist feels that he has not half seen Paris.