Thursday, June 28, 2012
The
Green Fairy Beckons
I’m off to
Paris tomorrow to an international meeting that will include preparations for
the forthcoming international anarchist gathering at St Imier in August.
However Friday will be “free” and I am determined to go to La Fée Verte, an absinthe bar on the Rue de la Roquette on the
north side of the Seine. Pot-bellied absinthe fountains squat on the counter,
and they are filled with iced water, with their miniature taps hanging down
like multiple genitalia or nourishing teats. A dozen brands of the mild green
fairy liquid are on offer and of course I intend to exercise due moderation.
After all, as the immortal Oscar was to note, with due knowledge of the subject,”
After the first glass of absinthe you see things as you wish
they were. After the second you see them as they are not. Finally you see
things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world. I
mean disassociated. Take a top hat. You think you see it as it really is. But
you don’t because you associate it with other things and ideas. If you had
never heard of one before, and suddenly saw it alone, you’d be frightened, or
you’d laugh. That is the effect absinthe has, and that is why it drives men
mad. Three nights I sat up all night drinking absinthe, and thinking that I was
singularly clear-headed and sane. The waiter came in and began watering the
sawdust.The most wonderful flowers, tulips, lilies and roses, sprang up, and
made a garden in the cafe. “Don’t you see them?” I said to him. “Mais non,
monsieur, il n’y a rien.”
If you cannot go to
Paris and live in London, go to the French House pub in Soho and take the
stairs to the first floor. There you will see a magnificent absinthe fountain
on display. The owner of the French House, the Belgian Victor Berlemont, had
large supplies of absinthe which lasted for many years and the bohemians of
Soho were grateful to him for this.
Labels: Absinthe, Green Fairy
