I am the Crown Prince of France

Chapter 153: Paris Fashion Week

March 11th, 5:00 PM.

At the Tuileries Palace, newly adorned with countless streamers, paintings, and billboards, the much-anticipated Paris Fashion Week was about to begin. The entire European continent had its eyes on this event.

The Tuileries Palace, a castle-like structure, was surrounded on all sides by towering buildings, enclosing a vast central square. Originally designed to serve as the king's last fortress in times of emergency, this square was meant for the mustering of troops. But today, the square was filled with thousands of visitors from various countries who had come to attend Fashion Week.

Additionally, a large number of visitors who were unwilling to pay for the expensive seats stood in the gaps between the square and the buildings, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the massive runway on the east side. Even standing-room-only tickets cost a hefty 6 livres.

Joseph had ensured widespread promotion across various countries in the lead-up to the event, with slogans like "Paris Fashion Week, for those who truly understand style," "Hand in hand with your loved one in the most romantic city," and "The wind of your longing has blown to Paris Fashion Week." These slogans had echoed in the ears of Europe's nobility, creating such a buzz that Paris Fashion Week had become the most talked-about event in the noble circles of Europe. Unless they were unable to afford the trip to Paris, no one wanted to miss this grand occasion—doing so would leave them feeling embarrassed in front of those who had experienced it.

As a result, at least 100,000 people flocked to Paris for Fashion Week.

Though the tickets for the opening ceremony were expensive, they had sold out a month in advance. Those nobles who wanted tickets later had to pay four or five times the original price, falling prey to the "scalpers."

At this moment, in the eastern section of the Tuileries Palace square, where the luxurious seats were placed—these "golden" seats close to the runway were priced at 80 livres each—a middle-aged Englishman with sagging eye bags and prominent ears, dressed in a black velvet coat, was wide-eyed as he took in the opulence of the Tuileries Palace, exclaiming:

"When I first read in the newspapers about 'Experience your royal life at the Tuileries Palace,' I thought it was just French exaggeration. But they've really outdone themselves."

The young man beside him, holding a notebook and pen, smiled and replied:

"Mr. Walsh, in fact, this Tuileries Palace used to be the royal palace of the French."

"Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Alvin," Walsh nodded in surprise, marveling, "No wonder it's so luxurious! Looks like my money wasn't wasted after all."

His wife laughed and added:

"Dear, I remember you saying on the ship over that the French are only good at making fancy food and clothes."

"Well, I have to admit, their palaces are not bad either."

At that moment, a soothing melody began to play, and the Chancellor of the Seal of Versailles, Baron Don, walked onto the stage, delivering an exceedingly long opening speech in the style of a recitative.

Following him, Queen Marie, dressed in a white gown with a towering hairdo of nearly a foot and a half, gracefully stepped out from backstage, surrounded by attendants and maids. As she appeared, brilliant fireworks lit up the sky.

The French guards and officials surrounding the area immediately bowed their heads in respect, and the visitors, surprised to see the Queen of France—Europe's epitome of fashion and luxury—attending the event in person, quickly stood and nodded courteously.

The atmosphere reached its peak.

Smiling, Queen Marie greeted the crowd before beginning the speech Joseph had written for her:

"Welcome to Paris, the city of fashion and romance, to participate in Europe's grandest fashion event…"

Walsh, not understanding French, anxiously hoped that the "five daily fashion shows, showcasing over a hundred beauties" advertised in the papers would start soon.

Fortunately, Queen Marie didn't keep him waiting long. After concluding with, "Enjoy this wonderful week," she turned and returned to her room on the third floor of the Tuileries Palace, directly overlooking the runway.

Next, a renowned singer performed a song, and then the main event of Fashion Week officially began.

As lively music played, three tall, beautiful models, dressed in the latest season's luxurious gowns, strutted down the runway.

The audience was stunned.

This was unlike any fashion show they had ever seen!

These weren't mere clothes hangers, nor were they relying on provocative displays to attract attention. The models exuded elegance and nobility in every gesture, their expressions cool and natural, like three confident noblewomen casually passing by.

This refined their dresses, imbuing them with a distinct character and style.

At the same time, on two four-meter-tall display boards flanking the runway, information about the dresses being modeled appeared, including the designers, design concepts, features, and prices.

Staff from Fashion Week moved among the guests, politely informing them that if they liked any of the outfits being showcased, they could place orders immediately.

While this sales model was common in later centuries, in the 18th century, it was an innovative and trendy concept.

Mrs. Walsh was immediately drawn to the light green gown on the model to the left. After glancing at the price—220 livres—she quickly calculated the cost in pounds and, deciding her husband wouldn't mind, turned to him with a charming smile and whispered, "Darling, what do you think of that green gown?"

Walsh, still busy admiring the curvy figures on stage, glanced at the price and absentmindedly nodded, "If you like it, buy it."

"Thank you, dear!" His wife immediately called over a staff member.

But she soon regretted it when the next model appeared, wearing a purple ball gown that captivated her even more than the green one.

As more models paraded down the runway, each outfit more trendy and beautiful than the last, Mrs. Walsh found herself overwhelmed, wishing she could buy them all.

An hour later, the first fashion show ended.

Despite her efforts to restrain herself, Mrs. Walsh ended up buying three outfits. She also purchased a deep blue suit for her husband.

Meanwhile, Mr. Walsh had had his fill of admiring the models and only realized at checkout that he had to pay nearly 40 pounds!

And these were gold pounds, with each pound roughly equivalent to 25 livres.

However, as a wealthy English wool merchant, he paid the bill with ease.

There were countless others in similar situations. The 23 staff members handling pre-orders for Fashion Week were busy until 4 AM, their hands cramping from the volume of orders.

The journalist from England, Mr. Alvin, who had accompanied Mr. Walsh, immediately returned to his room and spent hours compiling over ten pages of notes about Fashion Week, which he then sent back to England overnight.

That evening, the Walshes dined on authentic French court cuisine at the "Royal Restaurant" on the ground floor of the Tuileries Palace. Dishes included beetroot baked snails, the Prince's oysters, cherry-glazed foie gras, and red wine truffle-roasted pigeon…

The sumptuous feast left the two, who hailed from a culinary desert, utterly enchanted and stuffed to the brim, so much so that they had to lean against the walls as they left the restaurant.

Despite having waited in line for over 40 minutes and spending 1 pound and 12 shillings, they felt it was worth every penny.

After returning to the Tuileries Palace, the Walshes planned to have a drink but were drawn to a brightly lit hall filled with strange machines and the sound of laughter. They were immediately captivated.

Their guide pointed to the hall and said, "This is the game room. It's full of fun games to play."

Mr. Walsh, intrigued, stepped inside and immediately saw a young man, who looked Spanish, vigorously pulling a lever on a machine taller than a person. The machine's drum spun rapidly.

The young man stared intently at the drum, muttering, "Stop! Stop!"

After a moment, the front of the drum stopped, showing a yellow fleur-de-lis, the emblem of the French royal family.

Then, the middle section of the drum stopped, revealing another fleur-de-lis.

The young man's breathing grew rapid.

Finally, the drum slowed to a crawl. The last section turned from a sword to an apple and then gradually settled on a fleur-de-lis.

The young Spaniard erupted in wild cheers, jumping up and down in triumph.

The machine emitted a series of "ding" sounds as the young man eagerly retrieved a wooden box from the machine's bottom. It was filled with silver coins—at least seventy or eighty.

"What is this?" Mr. Walsh asked the guide, surprised.

The guide pointed to the machine. "Mr. Walsh, this is called a 'slot machine.' You put in one livre and pull the lever. The drum inside spins. If it stops on three matching symbols, you win several times, or even dozens of times, the amount you bet. The young gentleman just now won the highest payout—one hundred times."

Mr. Walsh's curiosity was piqued. He looked around and noticed that every machine in the hall was occupied.

Finally, after paying 10 livres, he managed to take over a slot machine from a middle-aged man, eager to try his luck. He quickly inserted a coin and pulled the lever.

The drum spun rapidly, then stopped on a cat, a shield, and an X. No win.

He frowned, inserted another coin, and tried again. Still nothing.

After 15 attempts, he finally hit three apples, and the machine jingled as silver coins clinked into a tray below.

Walsh gleefully collected the five coins, feeling more triumphant than if he had won five pounds.

An hour later, Mrs. Walsh, yawning, returned to their reserved room on the second floor alone.

Mr. Walsh, meanwhile, noticed that a pinball machine was free, so he moved over, curious to try it.

He inserted a coin, pulled the plunger, and watched as the ball bounced around inside the machine before landing in a hole marked "X3." Three coins clinked into the tray below.

Thrilled, Walsh quickly became engrossed in the pinball machine.

The machines in this hall were specially designed by Joseph for events like Fashion Week.

The internal mechanisms weren't particularly complex—a clockwork spring, a flywheel, and some gears were all it took. Parisian watchmakers spent months crafting these machines, which, despite their simplicity compared to a watch, were still highly entertaining.

Though basic by later standards, these games were utterly novel to people of the 18th century. One by one, they kept pulling levers or plungers, unable to stop.

Over 70 such machines were scattered throughout the Tuileries Palace, each one greedily devouring the visitors' coins.

At around 3 AM, Mrs. Walsh woke from a dream and, realizing her husband still hadn't returned, dressed quickly and rushed to the game room. There she found Mr. Walsh, his eyes bloodshot but his spirit high, still furiously pulling a lever…

The next day.

There were no fashion shows in the morning or at noon.

So, after breakfast, Mrs. Walsh dragged her husband, his eyes surrounded by dark circles, to the Eden Amusement Park, which everyone had been raving about as "incredibly fun" and "a must-see."

Outside the entrance to the fairytale-like amusement park, several workers dressed in costumes with big round ears, large eyes, and pointed noses were greeting visitors.

Yes, these adorable characters were the Mickey Mice of later generations.

But in the 18th century, there was no Disney to sue Joseph, so he had no hesitation in borrowing the design.

Large crowds were drawn to the cuteness of the Mickey costumes, following them around or cautiously petting their heads while exclaiming in delight.

The Mickeys eagerly pointed out the ticket booths to everyone.

The tickets were not cheap—30 livres for unlimited access to all rides, including free tea and snacks. Or 18 livres for access to four steam-powered rides, excluding drinks and sweets.

Mr. Walsh confidently handed over 2 pounds and 10 shillings for the all-access passes and led his wife into the amusement park.

His wife, well past her thirties, quickly transformed into a teenager, giggling and cheering as she hopped between the carousel and the teacup rides.

Once Mrs. Walsh had her fill of fun, she eagerly suggested they visit the main Paris Angels store—although there was a franchise in England, she had heard that the flagship store in Paris had a new product called "eye cream" on sale, with discounts, no less. How could she not go?

They intended to hire a carriage, but a public carriage happened to stop nearby. On the guide's suggestion, they curiously boarded the large carriage that could hold 25 people.

The two horses pulled the public carriage along newly laid wooden tracks. The wheels encountered very little resistance, allowing for a smooth and fast ride. Thanks to the new leaf spring suspension system and the already smooth wooden track, there was virtually no bumpiness inside the carriage.

Mrs. Walsh felt as if she were gently floating down a stream.

"This carriage is quite impressive," she remarked, looking around in delight.

The guide promptly added, "You've got a keen eye! This carriage uses the same technology as the royal carriages. It's currently the top choice among Parisian high society."

Mrs. Walsh quickly whispered, "How much does a carriage like this cost? I mean, one for four people."

"About 600 livres, more or less."

Mrs. Walsh looked pleadingly at her husband, who gallantly nodded, "Let's visit the carriage shop tomorrow."

(End of Chapter)

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